I'll Sing You One Last Song and then I'm Gone (Tokio Hotel Fan-Fic)

Chapter 20

This story is written by @xAnDeinerSeitex She wrote this story on a website called TokioHotelFiction.com. I was able to locate her and found out she had a wattpad account. She has given me permission to post it on here. @xAnDienerSeitex aslo has a new updated version of the story, as seeing this one is a few years old. If you like to read that one click the external link on the side. And I would like to say I have no rights to this story and I am NOT the writer. I would also like to thank @xAnDeinerSeitex for writing this great story and letting me post it on my account.

I heard the gentle, welcoming sound of a piano before I even opened my eyes. It ascended in volume until it felt like I was in the same room as the source of the noise, and while it sounds relaxing in theory, it filled me with a feeling of dread.

Bill and I have dreamed together in four places. There was the meadow, which hasn't been our setting since it began getting cold outside, like our minds somehow register the change in temperature and seek the warming solace of the indoors. Then there was the one time in the guest room at Joey's house, when it took him a while to find me, and I was just so thankful that Joey had hesitated as long as he did to open the door, for the sake of protecting my secret. More often was my bedroom, which kind of made me wonder why we never dreamed in Bill's room (or his hotel room, since he's on the road most of the time). The final place was the Bistro, where we found ourselves a lot more often since Joey and I became intertwined, like my dreams were dying to give me away.

Unfortunately for me, only one of those locales had a piano.

I peeled my eyes open, trying my hardest to brace for whatever it was that I was about to enter into, though no amount of mental preparation could have readied me for the scene splayed before me the moment I found myself in my dream.

Not only were we in the Bistro, but whatever higher power it is that sculpts my dreams thought that it'd be hilarious to set Bill and I in the back room, where my party had taken place tonight. Everything was still decorated exactly like it was when the group in the limo got there, complete with the trays of food that filled the room with the unmistakeable scent of Italian cuisine. There were still all the typical birthday stuff Julian had insisted I had – the streamers, multi-colored balloons with white stars printed into the latex, to go with Joey lovingly calling me Stellita all the time, and even the silly little signs with each letter in a different color that spelled out “Buon Compleanno Ashley, La Nostra Dolcezza” (which, I was told, meant, “happy birthday, Ashley, our Dolcezza”, though, since I don't understand it, why they chose to put the sign in Italian baffled me) – just like there was a full-blown party about to take place, though it already had.

To make things worse, instead of being filled with a sense of complete love and familiarity when I lay eyes on Bill for the first time each night, when I finally focused on him instead of the decorations, I was so shocked that I literally jumped a bit in my seat. Saving the pajamas for another night, Bill sat in the seat directly beside me, exactly where Joey had been seated during the party, wearing the same thing as my real-world love interest was that night. While Bill had the habit of looking great in whatever he wore, I couldn't allow myself to like this ensemble, seeing as the plain black button-up flannel, black jeans, black leather boots, and black leather jacket weren't even his. None of it looked right at all. That was Joey's style; those clothes belonged on him. If the universe wanted Bill dressed up, it could have put him in something else, unless it's doing all it can to make me feel like absolute shit for the constant battle between the two teams living inside of me.

Bill caught my gaze, and chuckled lightly to himself. “Weird, aren't they? This whole thing is totally not how I would usually dress, but really, it's kind of sharp. It's not me, but I almost don't mind it.” He yanked a bit at the sleeve of the jacket, which, even though it was technically Joey's jacket and they were definitely not the same size or stature (Bill is much taller and more slender than Joey), fit him like a glove. “This is genuine Italian leather. Being into fashion as I am, believe me, I checked. I have a bunch of leather myself, but not a plain black jacket like this. I kind of enjoy this darker look.”