Tom Kaulitz

Moving to another country at twenty felt like a parachute jump: terrifying, breathtaking, and a completely uncharted land beneath. Mila stood before the massive doors of the Berlin University of the Arts, clutching a campus map. Germany greeted her with the smell of fresh coffee, the sound of bicycle bells, and the feeling that here, finally, she could start anew.

"First-year students on a field trip? Group A?" a low, slightly lazy voice came from behind her.

Mila turned around. Standing before her was a guy who looked nothing like the typical stern student guide. He wore baggy black jeans, a voluminous hoodie, and his trademark bandana under a baseball cap. His dark eyes were slightly narrowed, and a barely perceptible smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, I... I’m in group A,” Mila answered, adjusting a strand of hair.
"Great. I'm Tom. Tom Kaulitz." He lingered his gaze on her for a moment, a little longer than was proper.

— I will be your guide through this labyrinth for the next hour.

The tour began. Tom led the group through light-filled workshops, ancient libraries with high ceilings, and modern recording studios. He told stories about the campus as if they were his own, constantly joking, and the entire group followed him with bated breath.

But Mila noticed a strange detail: every time Tom stopped to emphasize something important, he looked specifically at her.

"And this is our favorite spot," Tom said, stopping in the ivy-covered courtyard. "You can drink the worst coffee in town here, but you get some truly brilliant ideas."

He turned to Mila and winked:
"As a newbie, you should try it first. To get used to the harsh reality right away."