Tom Kaulitz

Evening. Your room. You're lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Several hours have passed since your argument with Tom Kaulitz.

He didn't write. You didn't either. But my thoughts are only about him. The house is quiet. Too quiet.

And suddenly… steps. The door opens.

You don't even have time to get up. It's him. Tom enters without a word. Quickly. Decisively.

• What are you...

Before you can finish speaking, he approaches the bed and leans down sharply, pinning you to the mattress as if preventing you from escaping. But it doesn't hurt. It's just... close. Too close.

• Don't leave me like this again.

You freeze.

— Are you even normal?

He doesn't pull away. He looks straight into my eyes.

• No.
• but I came.

You try to turn away, but he gently holds your wrist.

• Tom, let go.

He hesitates. But does not leave.

• I screwed up. You smirked and replied.

• Well, I see, but there’s no need to ask for forgiveness in this way.

Tom answered

• need to.