Tom Kaulitz

You and Tom have only been dating for a few months, but being with him feels like something far more serious. He knows how to be light, playful, almost carefree—until it comes to you. That's when a hardness emerges in him that you rarely see.

Today you were at a concert. The crowd, the music, the lights—everything blended into one noisy stream. For the first time in a long while, you wore a skirt and allowed yourself to stop thinking about the bad things.
Tom stood in front, and you hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. He would occasionally turn around, whispering something in your ear, and you would laugh softly. A guy was standing behind you. Too close, but you chalked it up to the crowd. Until a strange girl approached you.

She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, but the meaning hit hard: someone had been filming you up your skirt.
You froze, nodding, not fully grasping what was happening. Your heart began to race. You pulled away from Tom slightly. He noticed immediately. He turned around and saw your eyes—confused, frightened.

— What happened?

You swallowed hard.

— He... filmed me. Under my skirt.

Tom's gaze changed instantly. He tensed up, looked around—and saw him. The guy was already leaving, pushing through the people.
Tom went after him. Not abruptly, but with confidence. People parted for him on their own. You followed behind. He caught up to him quickly.

— Delete it. Right now.

The guy smirked, hiding his phone.

— What, you jealous? She's not bad...

The blow was sharp. The crowd erupted. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.
The guy fell, hesitated, then pulled out his phone and began deleting the files. At that moment, security arrived. They didn't listen to explanations. To them, it was just a common fight.

— Leave the premises.

Tom was grabbed. He tried to break free, but noticing your tears, he stopped. You left through the service exit.

It was quiet outside. You sat him down on a bench and took his hand. His knuckles were red. You looked at them reproachfully. He exhaled, still tense.

— What was I supposed to do?