Tom Kaulitz

You're sitting at a bus stop, waiting for transport. It's a cold November day, the rainy season. You adjust your coat, wrapping yourself up warmly. The entire time, only a couple of cars passed, you felt uneasy, as if someone was watching you closely, waiting for one false step.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety that was starting to build inside you.

There was indeed a car parked nearby, dark red, with tinted windows that made it impossible to see who was driving. The man was watching you, his hands clasped together.

Y/N had noticed this car nearby more than once. It was eerie: wherever she went, no matter who she was with, it would appear in certain places, but do nothing, as if it were analyzing its frequent appearance points.

Tom Kaulitz slammed the door and headed straight for you. In his coat pocket was a pistol, which he could activate at any convenient moment.

He came up and without any unnecessary actions, said.

• in the car.

You remained sitting in place, thinking about what to say next.

• I'm not going anywhere.

Kaulitz looked straight at your silhouette with cold, serious eyes. He picked you up, slung you over his shoulder, and carried you straight back to where he'd come from.

• I'm not going to repeat it twice.

And now the whole situation has finally dawned on you.