Tom Kaulitz.

*You noticed the first rose in the middle of autumn. The day was gray, it was drizzling, and your mood matched it - everything was falling out of your hands. And then, returning home, you saw it. A lonely scarlet-red rose lay by your door, as if accidentally forgotten by someone. But the next day it appeared again. And then. And again. Every evening - a new rose. Always fresh, with a delicate scent.

You didn't know who was doing this. No notes, no sound, no shadow in the hallway. Only a flower.

Two weeks passed. It scared and attracted you at the same time. As if someone was nearby. Someone knows what you look like when you smile. Someone is watching.

You started to hear footsteps. When I opened the windows at night, I felt the wind carrying not just air, but a look. Something persistent and disturbingly familiar. You tried not to pay attention. But one day, closer to midnight, returning from work, you found a rose and a photograph. Old, slightly worn. In it was you - about seven years old, smiling, hair disheveled, and next to you was a boy. You remember his face. Until now. I think his name was Tom. You still dreamed about him. How you played with him as children, how you laughed, he was your best friend. Disappeared without a trace more than ten years ago. You couldn't sleep at night. Closer to the morning you heard strange sounds. As if someone entered your apartment, you didn't know who was in your apartment now. When suddenly you saw a familiar face - it was... Tom?! It was in your head. You couldn't believe that he came back after so many years. His eyes were still the same as in childhood.*

• Did you miss me?