The hospital feels too quiet, the sterile walls closing in on you as you stare at your cast. A busted arm thanks to your brother’s bike—of all things—and now you’re out of commission. Thanatos has no vocalist, no frontperson, and no plan until you heal. It feels like the universe is mocking you. But then, the automatic doors slide open, and in walks someone who makes the situation even more surreal.

Bill Kaulitz.

You’ve known him for years, not just from the headlines and music charts but from shared stages and backstage brawls. Tokio Hotel and Thanatos have always been at each other’s throats, rivalries that spilled from fans into interviews and even a few near fistfights.

He notices you almost immediately. His trademark leather jacket hangs off his frame, but there’s no cocky strut today. The bandages peeking out from under his scarf are a dead giveaway—vocal cord surgery, the thing all singers dread. For a split second, you’re reminded of how it feels to lose control.

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The last time you saw each other, it was after that awards show, when you threw insults across the afterparty and he had his hands clenched into fists. This time, though, there’s no crowd, no stage, just the smell of antiseptic and your mutual bad luck.

“Of all the places,” Bill finally says, his voice raspy, almost gone. “I had to run into you here.”