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

Chapter 29

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.

Walking out of school, I yanked my iPod from my bag to drown out the whispers and white noise around me, so that I could just tune it all out with the comforting sound of Tokio Hotel, Bill's essence the only thing keeping me going when I knew I had a long walk ahead of me. It had been months since I walked home, always receiving a ride from Joey, but, with that bridge burned, that wasn't quite an option anymore.

The journey itself wasn't that long, but the walking distance seemed amplified when I realized that Ellie was only about fifty yards ahead of me. I knew she had noticed me, and she kept turning back, but I just kept my eyes on the sidewalk, trying not to pay attention to much. She obviously had heard about my break-up, and I really did want to set myself back on track to be who I used to be, but it didn't matter to her, after what I did. She wasn't going to say anything to me, I knew, and I had no just grounds to say anything to her. She shut me down Friday night, she shut me down at prom, and she didn't make the effort through the school day, so the evidence led me to believe that she really was serious about not wanting to be friends.

But, in my newly-found state of almost complete numbness, I couldn't feel angry or sad about it. I didn't really feel much of anything as I walked home that day. The sunlight beamed down on me and kissed my skin hello after the long void of winter, but I could hardly feel the warmth of it. The air around me smelled like spring flowers, but I couldn't find it within me to enjoy the sensation. People I passed on the sidewalk grinned and said hello, but I couldn't empathize with their joy. I walked through my town like a zombie, cold and unfeeling, and I didn't care who had what to say about it.

Mum wasn't there when I got home, and my adopted apathy prevented me from trying to figure out where it is she might have gone. I dropped my bag by the door with my shoes and made my way up to my bedroom, ignoring the usually tempting sight of a plate of cookies sitting out on the counter. All I wanted was to lose myself in music and art, and, thus, I did. I docked my iPod so it could blare through my room, and I set up a new canvas on my easel, retrieving my paints from where I had stored them the night before, and set to work.

As I usually did when I began working on a piece I had become really emotionally invested in, I kind of blacked out during the actual painting process. It's not that I didn't care about it or anything, but my subconscious took over, and my active mind kind of shut down for a while. From the time I got home from school to the time I finished my piece all became one big blur to me, and I couldn't remember at all what I had done. I vaguely recall leaving my bedroom at one point very shortly before I finished the piece, but, what I did while I was gone, I couldn't call to mind.

The sunlight had expired before I finished painting whatever came to me, singing absentmindedly to the medley of Tokio Hotel filling my room with the calming sensation of music. I hadn't even paid much attention to what my subconscious mind had transferred into my art, just enjoying the blissful abyss of nothingness it permitted me to feel, but, when it was done, I turned on my light and stood back to admire what some version of me had done, and I smiled to myself for the second time that day.

On my canvas was exactly what I saw when I closed my eyes at night. The beautiful earth tones of the Meadow set the background atmosphere, complimented by the sun beaming up in the sky. In the foreground was the tree Bill and I always find ourselves cozy together underneath, and he and I were relaxing beneath it, bundled together. We wore the same things we had on in my painting for school, though no part of our skin was touching, not even in my painting, as not to wake us up. Our eyes were closed, and we were grinning together, just enjoying the company. Painted in black cursive scroll in the sky were the lyrics of his that had always brought a smirk to my face - “In my dreams, together, we'll be strange”.