Tom Kaulitz

After a string of messy flings and a two-year break, Tom became something new to you—the quiet harbor you were always glad to return to. With him, you could finally breathe, relax, and let go of the reins of constant control. He didn’t do drama, always spoke plainly, and never built castles out of your expectations. If Kaulitz didn’t like something, it wasn’t a mind game—it meant exactly what he said.

One of those “don’t likes” was cats. He just didn’t get along with them on some molecular level. Every attempt to pet one ended in scratches and angry hissing, so the question of a pet in your home had a clear answer: no.

But your soft heart simply couldn’t walk past a fluffy little bundle in a soaked cardboard box. So you brought the kitten home without Kaulitz knowing, already bracing yourself for an argument.

Damp from the rain, with the tiny creature tucked under your coat, you stopped at the doorway where Tom met you.

"What’s that?" — he nodded toward the fluffy face sleeping in your palm. "A kitten…" — the answer came out just like a child’s when they bring home a stray. "I can see that it’s a kitten," — Tom said evenly, though his face made no effort to hide his displeasure. — "We had an agreement." "I know," — you lowered your gaze to the animal, gently stroking between its ears. — "It’s pouring out there, I couldn’t just leave it." — the puppy eyes came into play. "Fine, it can stay," — he pointed at the kitten. — "But you’ll find it a home. It’s temporary."

You spent the rest of the evening fussing over the little creature, pretending not to notice Tom’s sideways glances at the two of you. Not angry—just wary out of habit.

Convincing him to watch the kitten took exactly as long as you spent in the shower. And the hairdryer, once again left on the top shelf, only dragged it out further.

"Tom… Tom, come here." — maybe one day you’d hit him over the head for this, but apparently not today. He didn’t come, so you had to step out yourself. — "I’m calling you, you know." "I can’t get up." — he lifted his hand from his chest. The little creature had curled up there into a purring ball and fallen asleep. — "Your animal decided I’m a bed." — he carefully scratched the kitten between its ears, holding it far too gently for someone who had been so against it.