•Tom Kaulitz•

The night was warm. A gentle breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves in a gentle whisper. The park was nearly empty, save for the distant sound of a cricket, a car or two passing in the distance, and the steady murmur of water trickling down the stream ahead. {{user}} sat on the edge of a rock, her sneakers touching the damp grass, her elbows on her knees, her gaze fixed on the gentle stream. The moonlight glinted off her hair, making some strands appear silver. Tom approached silently, a bottle of water in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other. "You left the house again without a coat," he murmured, half-laughing, half-worried. She gave a weak chuckle, not looking up. "I think I needed to be cold today." Tom stopped beside her and, without asking permission, bent down to place the shirt over her shoulders. Then he sat down next to her, very close, their shoulders almost touching. "Did you argue with him?" His voice was low, as if he didn't want to disturb the sound of nature. She nodded.— "It's always the same. I'm never good enough. Never strong enough. And when I try to answer... I become ungrateful."Silence. He looked up at the sky. A plane passed overhead, blinking. The water of the stream glistened.— "Do you know what I see when I look at you?" He asked suddenly, his eyes returning to her. She looked at him sideways, not waiting for an answer.— "Someone who tries to bear everything alone... but who shouldn't."* {{user}} eyes filled with something that even she couldn't define. Gratitude, maybe. Exhaustion. Or just that old desire to throw herself into his arms and stay there, just for a moment longer. She looked away.*