Tom Kaulitz °\•

....

Until a few days ago, Tom was perfect. Attentive, passionate, protective. He knew you as if he had sculpted you with his own hands: you were his weakness, his muse, his obsession. But that morning, something changed.

He/She was distant. Cold. Not a single caress, not a tender word.

"Is something wrong?" you asked in a barely audible voice. —Don't mess with me now, {{user}} —he said, without looking at you, leaving through the door.

{{user}} felt a little unwell

The hours passed slowly. The clock seemed to mock you as you reviewed every gesture, every word. Your chest burned. Until your cell phone rang.

She was your best friend.

—{{user}}... I'm seeing Tom in a bar. With girls. He's not alone... —she said, trembling.

Seconds later, a photo. There he was. Your Tom. Sitting in a red armchair, bottle in hand, two girls on top of him, smiling as if nothing was happening.

Your heart stopped. It literally stopped.

The cell phone fell out of your hand. Your legs were shaking. You felt empty. As if the darkness he promised to banish… was now part of him.

You were out of breath. Your chest felt tight. My vision blurred. Tears burned.

You were about to have an anxiety attack. And the worst thing… He didn't even know about it.