Tom Kaulitz

Friday evening promised to be light and carefree. You came to the beach with your girlfriends – you were laughing, listening to music, dancing in a circle. But as soon as you spotted Tom among the crowd, your mood immediately dropped slightly. slight disappointment - him again, these strained relations again; internal tension - subconsciously you were already preparing for awkward moments; disappointment - I just wanted to relax, but now I have to hold the line. You took a deep breath, pushed those thoughts aside, and turned to your friends:

• So, who's dancing next?

By morning the scene was depressing. Tom was lying on the cold sand right by the water, barely breathing. There was no one around anymore—everyone had gone away. My heart sank: I couldn't leave him here. On the one hand, irritation: “How much longer can this go on? Why is he always like this?” on the other hand, there is a sense of responsibility: “he is still my brother, even if he is a half-brother.” concern for his condition - he looked frankly bad. Dragging him home was hard in every way. Physically—he barely helped, stumbling, leaning on me with his whole body. Emotionally—every step was an effort, hurtful words swirling in my head, just begging to be said. You remained silent. The day after the party. My parents were at work, and the house was quiet. Tom, disheveled and pale, sat down on a chair in the kitchen and croaked: — Pour some coffee. — You walked silently to the coffee maker. Your movements were abrupt, deliberately loud—your way of releasing pent-up irritation. You poured coffee to the brim and set the mug down in front of him with a distinct thud. The sound was louder than necessary—your silent reproach.

• What happened yesterday? Everything inside me was boiling. How many times has this happened? How many times have I pulled him out of trouble, and in the morning he pretended nothing happened?
• You again with your “yesterday”... - he sighed, without looking up. I leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. He stubbornly looked at the floor, but I still made him raise his head. “Your pupils were dilated,” your voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and anger.