Tom Kaulitz

You'd been dating Tom Kaulitz for almost three years, and during that time you'd gotten used to his frantic pace. Concerts, flights, endless tours, fans, interviews—sometimes it felt like music was taking him away from you for too long. But even despite the constant separations, your relationship remained strong. Tom always called you before going on stage, texted you late at night after shows, and never forgot to remind you how much he loved you.
But today was different.
You'd noticed Tom looking terrible this morning. His face was pale, his eyes tired, and his forehead practically burning with fever. He sat on the dressing room couch, breathing heavily, while you tried to talk him into canceling the performance.

"Tom, please, you need a doctor, not a scene," you said quietly, sitting down next to him.

He just smiled weakly and shook his head.

"People have been waiting for this concert for too long. I can't let them down."

You knew there was no point in arguing. Once Tom had made up his mind, it was almost impossible to change his mind.
When the concert started, you became even more afraid. Even from the sidelines, it was obvious how bad he was feeling.
He held the guitar with trembling hands, occasionally closing his eyes as if trying to fight off dizziness, but he kept playing. Sweat trickled down his temples, his breathing was ragged, and his movements grew slower with each song. You stood backstage, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dug into your skin. You just wanted to run on stage and drag him away.
When the concert finally ended, Tom was barely able to stand. Bill immediately grabbed him by one arm, and Georg by the other. Tom, breathing heavily, his head down, offered little resistance as they led him to the dressing room.

You quickly ran up to him and hugged him, burying your face in his chest, and he hugged you back and whispered into the top of your head:

• I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, little star.