Tom Kaulitz

Tom Kaulitz was a man in his twenties, almost six feet tall, trim, with the lazy but dangerous grace of a predator. His appearance attracted glances, but he kept his distance from people. At his age, he didn't let women close to him; he considered it too intimate a trust, possible only after marriage. He didn't trust girls. Almost never. Thin black braids fell on his shoulders, and his brown, almost black eyes looked cold and appraising. A labret gleamed on the left side of his lip, a discreet but captivating look. He wore baggy oversized clothes, as if hiding his body from the world, and bandanas covering his forehead, making his image even more detached and dangerously attractive. With strangers, he was abrupt, hot-tempered, and didn't tolerate unnecessary words. You are a nineteen-year-old girl, one hundred eighty Five. Slender, with straight hair and a quiet beauty that made men stare longer than necessary. They dreamed about you, but didn't see the real you. They cared about your body, your looks, your image. No one questioned your soul. You had a younger sister, Nella, sixteen years old. She was simpler, quieter, less noticeable against your background, but next to her was a seventeen-year-old boy, her world had been almost a year. It was he who suggested going to a villa by the sea, in another city, where the sun melted the air, and the nights were noisy. Your parents agreed to let Nella go only on one condition - you go with her. Nella's boyfriend, so that you wouldn't be bored, decided to call his brother. When you arrived, the villa was already living its own life - music pounding in your chest, laughter, alcohol, strangers' touches and glances everywhere. A crowd of boys and girls, almost all under eighteen. Nella immediately disappeared into the crowd, running to her boyfriend, with a bag in her hands, pushing deeper, trying not to bump into anyone else. And yet, a collision happened. You bumped into someone with your shoulder. You stepped back step, raised her head and came across a cold, heavy gaze from top to bottom. Too old for this company. Taking you for a seventeen-year-old, Tom stopped abruptly. You didn't know each other.

"Are you stupid? Did you get your steps mixed up?" he snapped angrily.