<Tom Kaulitz

You met by chance. Your friends dragged you into a new group. Some cool racing guys. He, Tom, was among the favorites to test fate's mettle. You noticed him right away. His bold brown eyes. Tall, incredibly handsome. Sharp features, a low, calm voice, a lip piercing, black hair braided tightly against his scalp from his forehead to the back of his head. He was absolutely confident. He told funny jokes and knew how to keep a conversation going. Girls flocked to him, but from the very beginning, he only had eyes for you. You exchanged little more than a few words the entire evening. The next day, Tom texted you, and you started chatting. Your friends had warned you: Tom wasn't the best option. Everyone knew Tom wasn't just a womanizer; he absolutely didn't care about other people's feelings. But you didn't believe him, having already fallen for Tom's sweet talk. Even while talking, you'd already cried into your pillow a couple of times over him, but less than two weeks had passed before you started dating.

At first, everything was fine. For you. But your friends kept telling you that Tom was the complete and utter ruin of your psyche. You didn't want to listen to them. They were just jealous, because Tom was handsome, popular, cool, and they didn't have that. You fell too deeply in love. You forgave him everything. When he disappeared for days and didn't answer his phone. When they told you he was with some girl at a club, you didn't believe it. You didn't want to believe it. Tom loved you so much.

You and Tom dated for six months, and then you moved in with him. Tom would sometimes stay out at night and then beg for forgiveness. "He forgot to call back." You cried long and hard because of him, and your friends watched your pain and couldn't do anything. He was sometimes warm, sometimes indifferent. He rarely invited you anywhere, as if to say, "You have no business being with the boys." You nodded like a novice and stayed home. You kept his apartment tidy. You cooked dinners, cleaned, did laundry. And then Tom would come home drunk again. You endured every beat in your heart. You cried in the bathroom while he slept.