The next few weeks flew by in a blur of laughter, music, and late afternoons in the hidden music room. Lisha and Bill became inseparable—they'd walk to class together, share snacks during lunch under the mango tree, and spend every free moment working on music. He taught her new chords and how to build a song from just a simple melody; she showed him the complex riffs from Tokio Hotel's heavier tracks and helped him polish his lyrics until they flowed perfectly.
One Tuesday afternoon, as they sat on the worn couches in the music room, Lisha pulled out her notebook and showed him a song she'd been writing. "It's called 'Posters,'" she said quietly, opening to a page filled with her neat handwriting. "It's about… well, you'll see."
She started playing, her fingers finding the chords easily. The song was about loving someone from afar—seeing them on walls and screens, feeling like you know them even though you don't. But as she sang the second verse, the words shifted:
"Then you walked right through my screen and into my life / Not the face I knew, but the heart inside / I thought I loved a star up in the sky / But I was falling for you all this time…"
When she finished, Bill was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached over and took her hand—his silver rings cool against her skin. "Lisha… I've been wanting to tell you something. For a while now."
His voice was serious, and she could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "What is it?"
"I like you," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "A lot. More than just a friend. I know we bonded over Tokio Hotel, and I know I look like him—but I want you to like me. William. Not the guy who reminds you of your idol."
Lisha felt her heart race. She'd been feeling the same way—every time he smiled, every time he'd help her fix a messed-up chord, every time he'd bring her her favorite banana cue because he'd noticed she'd skipped breakfast. She opened her mouth to tell him yes, that she liked him too—when the door to the music room burst open.
A girl with long black hair, dressed in a stylish black dress and boots, stood in the doorway. She was beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that looked exactly like Bill's. In her hand, she held a large envelope, and her face was pale with worry.
"William," she said, her voice shaking. "We need to talk. Now."
Bill stood up quickly, letting go of Lisha's hand. "Elena? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Germany."
The girl—Elena—walked into the room, her eyes finally landing on Lisha. "This is why I came back. We have to tell her the truth, William. She deserves to know."
Bill ran a hand through his hair, looking more stressed than Lisha had ever seen him. "Can't this wait? We were in the middle of something."
"No," Elena said firmly. She turned to Lisha, holding out the envelope. "I think you should see this first."
Lisha took it, her hands trembling as she pulled out the papers inside. They were photographs—dozens of them—all of Bill Kaulitz. But not the Bill Kaulitz from her posters. These were recent, taken in what looked like a studio or backstage area. And in almost every single one, standing right beside him, was the boy she'd come to know as William.
Her head started to spin. "What… what is this?"
Elena sat down beside her, her voice soft now. "My name is Elena Kaulitz. And this"—she gestured to Bill—"is my brother, Tom. Well, technically my half-brother. Our father is Jörg Kaulitz. Which makes him Bill Kaulitz's half-brother too."
Lisha looked at the boy she'd been calling William—at his platinum blonde hair and familiar features—and suddenly everything made sense. The way he knew every detail about Tokio Hotel, the way he looked almost identical to Bill, the way he'd talked about his mom being a huge fan.
"His real name is Tom," Elena continued. "When we were kids, people always said he looked just like Bill—even more than our cousin Gustav did. When Bill got famous, Tom started getting noticed everywhere we went. It got to be too much—people following him, asking for autographs, even trying to take pictures of him without permission. So when our family moved to the Philippines five years ago, we decided to give him a fresh start. We changed his name to William, let him style his hair however he wanted, and told everyone he was just a lookalike."
Tom—William—sat down across from her, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Lisha. I never meant to lie to you. When we first met and you started talking about how much you loved Tokio Hotel, I was so scared you'd treat me like everyone else—like I was just a copy of Bill. So I went along with the story we'd been telling for years. But then… then I got to know you, and I started to fall for you, and I didn't know how to tell you the truth."
Lisha felt tears stinging her eyes—not just from shock, but from hurt. She'd shared everything with him—her dreams, her fears, even written a song about how she was falling for him. And all this time, he'd been hiding who he really was.
"Does Bill know about you?" she asked quietly.
"He does," Elena said. "In fact, that's why I'm here. Bill is coming to Manila next month for a secret concert—he wants to see Tom, to catch up after all these years apart. He also wants to meet you."
"Me?" Lisha looked up, confused.
Tom nodded, reaching for her hand again but pulling back at the last second. "I've been writing to Bill for years—telling him about my life here, about the music I'm making. When I told him about you, about how you love his music but you also love the songs I write… he said he had to meet you. He wants to hear what we've been working on together."
Lisha sat there in silence, the photographs still in her hands. Part of her was angry—angry that he'd lied, angry that she'd been so blind to the truth. But another part of her thought about all the time they'd spent together, about the way he'd made her feel welcome in a new place, about the music they'd created side by side.
The boy sitting in front of her was still the same person she'd come to care about. He was still the one who'd held her hand when she was nervous about her first presentation, still the one who'd stayed late to help her learn a difficult chord progression, still the one who'd made her feel like she belonged.
"Tom," she said, using his real name for the first time. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I was scared," he said, his voice raw. "Scared you'd only see Bill when you looked at me. Scared you'd leave to chase after the real thing instead of staying with me."
Lisha looked at him—at his familiar face, but now seeing him differently. Seeing Tom, not William, not Bill's lookalike, but the boy who'd stolen her heart without even trying.
"I fell for you," she said, her voice steady now. "Not for Bill, not for a lookalike. For you. The guy who writes beautiful songs, who brings me banana cue when I'm hungry, who knows every word to 'Schrei' in German. But I need you to promise me something—no more secrets. Ever."
Tom's face broke into a smile, and she could see the relief wash over him. "I promise. No more secrets. Ever."
Elena stood up and smiled at both of them. "I'll leave you two to talk. But Tom—Bill is really looking forward to meeting you both. And he wants to hear that song she just played. He said if it's half as good as you say it is, he might want to record it as a duet."
As Elena left the room, Tom took Lisha's hand this time—holding it firmly, like he never wanted to let go. "So… does this mean you'll still go out with me? Even knowing who I really am?"
Lisha leaned over and kissed his cheek, feeling the familiar dimple under her lips. "I thought you'd never ask. And we have a lot to talk about—like how we're going to tell Mia that her best friend is actually related to Bill Kaulitz."
Tom laughed—the warm, genuine laugh she'd come to love. "Yeah, that's gonna be interesting. But first… how about we finish that song you were writing? I have some ideas for the bridge, and I think Bill is gonna love it."
As they picked up their guitars and started playing together, Lisha realized that sometimes the biggest plot twists in life aren't about lies being revealed—they're about finding out that the truth is even better than the story you thought you knew.