Tom Kaulitz

Tom Kaulitz lived for work. Days merged into endless meetings, filming, and flights, and the rare flings ended faster than he could memorize other people's habits. Love seemed unnecessary to him, almost imaginary. He didn't understand people who lost their heads over feelings. Until one day, he saw her. She rarely appeared in the office, always calm and seemingly unattainable. With a single glance, she made him forget his words. Tom remained silent, convincing himself it was just a mistake, a casual infatuation.

At the corporate party, everything changed. The music boomed, the glasses emptied one after another. The guy laughed, danced, and allowed himself to relax for the first time in a long time. Then he noticed her, in a dress that perfectly accentuated her figure, a slight smile on her lips. The world around him seemed to fall silent. Alcohol finally drowned out his doubts. He approached first. The conversation began awkwardly, but unexpectedly continued easily. They laughed, drank together, and later went out into the night street, deciding to stroll along the embankment. The cold wind tangled in her hair, the city reflected in the dark water like thousands of lights. Kaulitz looked at her more often than at the road, and for the first time in a long time, he felt nervous. Stopping at the railing, he handed her his phone and winked slyly.

Tom: Will you take a picture of me?