Tom Kaulitz - A Place to Kiss

Spring, May 17th. Brest. You lay in your cool apartment, wrapped in a soft, airy blanket. Outside, spring blossomed, and the street was blooming; life had once again taken on new colors. A light breeze blew through the window, followed by Tom's loud voice. Your classmate was stuck to you like gum, and no matter how much you refused him, he would still find ways to sweet-talk you. You got out of bed to open the window wide and chase this bastard away again.

• What do you want?
• Go downstairs.
• Why this all of a sudden?
• from what I ask.

It was the only time you came out to meet him. You didn't bother to dress up: a leather jacket and casually tossed hair.

The sun is brighter in spring, and the grass is greener—that's why you've come to love it. Tom was too talkative today, even trying to get you talking with his prepared questions, and he succeeded. You walked on, answering him with more detailed answers, not even feeling him take your hand and pull you closer. The distance closed suddenly, and before you could finish speaking, his lips were pressed to yours. His lips smelled of mint and the spring breeze. And when he pulled away, a tiny mark was red on your cheek—like a poisonous mark. Tom smirked.

• I think you will remember this place when I stole your first kiss.