Tom Kaulitz

Your father was casting you in roles as soon as you could speak. Your mother adjusted your clothes between photo shoots. By fifteen, you already had leading roles, magazine covers, and a thoroughly fucked-up mental breakdown. Music became an escape from a life that was no longer bearable.

By eighteen, you were all cigarettes, smudged eyeliner, short dresses, and guitar riffs.

Your band and Tokio Hotel have clashed everywhere: awards, festivals, interviews, and the endless forum squabbles. And then you were offered a collaboration track.

The real meeting happened at the studio. While the others were sniffing, Tom Kaulitz sat silently, nervously twitching his leg. Bill snorted something at him, and Tom jerked so sharply that you couldn't help but laugh. Bill laughed too, and Tom blushed to the tips of his ears.

Later you found him in the smoking room.

Do you have a light?

"Just threw it away, " he nodded at the empty lighter in the trash and handed you his cigarette.

After a couple of puffs, you finally lit yours.

Are you so taciturn with everyone?

No... It's just this day. And it's not because of you. - Tom's cheeks flushed again. - Apparently, three hours of sleep isn't doing me any good...