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

Chapter 8

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.

That afternoon in the Meadow, I'd tossed around the idea of telling Bill about the wicked kids in my art class and their utterly cruel reaction to the back-story to my project. Every single part of me ached to just bellow about how malicious they are, about how they just didn't understand the special connection the two of us inexplicably have together, about how passionately I hated each and every one of them.

But, after careful deliberation, I decided to completely forget the idea of telling him any of it. The thought of having someone to confide in about my feelings was absolutely amazing, and a totally liberating change from the locked-inside-myself lifestyle I'm used to living, but the risk of telling him the truth was far too great.

And what I mean by that is, I don't want him to get scared off by my telling him. Because if I told him that they wound up laughing, he would either think that it was about him as a person (which it wasn't), or wonder what I said to make them have such a brutal go at me. I wouldn't want him to think that they were laughing at him, meaning he could only ask what about my presentation was so comical. That would lead to my telling him everything that I actually said to provoke such a reaction from my classmates.

What I'd said about why I'd chosen Bill as my person of interest was exactly the part that I wanted to directly avoid spilling to anyone, most especially him himself. I hadn't actually meant to say what I had said out loud to my class. Had I been in my right mind, I never would have even imagined telling people about my angel. He was mine, at least during the night, but I don't know what I was thinking, doing him for my project. I should have realized that the whole idea was stupid from the start. Of course Protoccelli would have had me explain why I'd done someone so unconventional. Why that slipped my mind before I started my work on my piece, I'll never know.

The point was, I felt myself falling hard for Bill, even if I only knew him in my dreams, and only for a couple weeks. If that wasn't bizarre, then I don't know what is. And truly, part of me wanted him to know for sure what kind of spell he'd cast on me and held me under. He was all I thought of, he was all I talked of, and he was all I dreamed of, literally. Not one night had gone by where I wasn't greeted by his smiling face in my sleep. But, what if that scared him? What if he was only in this because he had no choice but to be? We'd been together in a way we couldn't escape from for a growing period of time, with no signs of it slowing. What if he only came to know me because he realized I wasn't going away, and he was just making the best of a sticky situation?

There's also the possibility that I was the only one entrapped in this continuous strand of lucid dreams, that I was dreaming in a way that I could control myself, but Bill being there with me all the time was just a figment of my imagination.

But I absolutely refused to believe that. There was nothing fake or one-sided about my lucid experiences. Bill was there with me, no doubt in my mind.

I'd just really like to keep him there. And if that means concealing my feelings from him, then so be it. I would knock down all my walls and allow him access to everything about me, except for that one, juicy little tidbit. Once the walls fall down, he's met with a safe, solid metal and over-secured. He might have had the tools to break through the walls, but I'd never be dumb enough to crack the safe and let him have that part of me as well. What if having it freaked him out and made him leave? Then I'd be more miserable than I was going to have to be in keeping the true magnitude of my feelings for him a secret. For the sake of making him stay, I had to not let on that I was falling head over heels for him, and if that meant suffering through the abuse of my classmates in silence, then so be it.