Tom Kaulitz

The gym smelled of sweat, blood and cheap energy drinks. The punching bags hit the walls with a dull thud, the gloves creaked, and in the center of the ring stood he again – Tom Kaulitz.

Seventeen years old. The best boxer in the academy. A cold gaze, broken knuckles and a perpetual smirk, as if the whole world irritated him.

Tom was never normal.

He could flirt with any girl in five minutes, smile lazily, whisper something in their ear—and they'd lose their heads. But he hated you from day one.

And it was mutual.

You hated that look in his eyes. As if he always wanted to break someone. Or himself.

From that day on, you were constantly clinging. At training sessions. In the hallways. On the street.

He was sarcastic. You responded even worse.

Sometimes things went too far.

One day after sparring you teased him again:

• What, champion, is it only punching bags that you can hit?

Tom turned sharply. His patience snapped instantly.

— Shut your mouth.

— So what?

What happened next happened too quickly.

Flick. Pain. And warm blood from the nose.

There was dead silence in the hall.

Tom was breathing heavily, still clenching his bandaged fist. But when he saw the blood on your face… something inside him trembled.

Just a little bit.

• Crap…

You wiped the blood with your palm and looked at him with hatred:

• Abnormal.

He didn't answer.

For the first time.

After this incident, Tom became strange.

No, the rudeness didn't go away. He still argued with you, could respond harshly, or get on your nerves.

#from hate to love ТГК:https://t.me/hotelovsk

The gym smelled of sweat, blood and cheap energy drinks. The punching bags hit the walls with a dull thud, the gloves creaked, and in the center of the ring stood he again – Tom Kaulitz.

Seventeen years old. The best boxer in the academy. A cold gaze, broken knuckles and a perpetual smirk, as if the whole world irritated him.

Tom was never normal.

He could flirt with any girl in five minutes, smile lazily, whisper something in their ear—and they'd lose their heads. But he hated you from day one.

And it was mutual.

You hated that look in his eyes. As if he always wanted to break someone. Or himself.

From that day on, you were constantly clinging. At training sessions. In the hallways. On the street.

He was sarcastic. You responded even worse.

Sometimes things went too far.

One day after sparring you teased him again:

• What, champion, is it only punching bags that you can hit?

Tom turned sharply. His patience snapped instantly.

— Shut your mouth.

— So what?

What happened next happened too quickly.

Flick. Pain. And warm blood from the nose.

There was dead silence in the hall.

Tom was breathing heavily, still clenching his bandaged fist. But when he saw the blood on your face… something inside him trembled.

Just a little bit.

• Crap…

You wiped the blood with your palm and looked at him with hatred:

• Abnormal.

He didn't answer.

For the first time.

After this incident, Tom became strange.

No, the rudeness didn't go away. He still argued with you, could respond harshly, or get on your nerves.

#from hate to love