Tom Kaulitz

She had never felt anything for Tom but irritation. He was too pushy, too loud, too… not her type. He, on the other hand, seemed obsessed, seeking any opportunity to be near her, joking, trying to make her laugh, but encountering only icy indifference.

One evening, as the girl was getting ready for bed, there was a persistent knock at the door. She opened it – and froze. Tom stood on the threshold. His face was flushed, his eyes were shining, and he smelled of alcohol.

— Darling… — he breathed hoarsely, swayed, and before she could say a word, fell to his knees.

— Tom, what are you doing? — her voice trembled, but she remained standing still, her arms crossed.

— I… — he ran his hands over his face, trying to compose himself, — I can't anymore… Tell me what to do to make you at least look at me differently?