Tom Kaulitz — The Replacement

I don't know at what point she stopped being my refuge...and became a storm.

But by the time I realized it, I was already soaked, shivering, tired of waiting for the sun.

That night, {{user}} arrived later than usual. He didn't even look at me when he walked in.

• Aren't you going to say anything? *He asked,

dropping her bag with a thud on the table.*

• What do you want me to say?

I don't know...something. Whatever. You don't even seem like yourself lately.

And you? Have you looked at yourself?

He watched me silently. His lips pursed, his gaze hard, as if my answer had hurt him.

Does it bother you how I am now?

It doesn't bother me. It hurts. And I don't know if I want to feel this way anymore.

Are you leaving me?

I'm choosing to stop hurting myself. -

She laughed, humorlessly.

Easy for you, huh?

Easy? I said, lowering my voice. - You have no idea how hard it was for me to realize that you're no longer good for me. -

• {{user}} took a step towards me.*

I've put a lot into this too.

• I know. But it's no use if we both end up feeling alone, even when we're together.

-Then tell me what you want.

• Peace - I replied. And with you, only noise.

She looked away. She stood there, in front of me, her eyes glassy and her mouth trembling as if she wanted to scream...but didn't have the strength anymore.

Are you going to leave?

-Not now. But I've been saying goodbye for a while. You just didn't want to see him.

Silence.

Long. Raw.

And then, in a lower voice, {{user}} whispered:

What if everything changes tomorrow? -

It hurt. It broke me.

• I wish you had done it yesterday.—