Tom Kaulitz

People like you were always called "born with a silver spoon in your mouth." Your parents, who cared more about their reputation than about you and your brother, piled every hope they had on your young shoulders, while their eldest son was slowly immersing himself in the not-so-clean affairs of his father's business.

Nick stayed in Germany, taking over as a manager after his parents died, and you... You were exiled to the States, like an interfering pet, which is often left behind when moving. Hysteria and resentment gradually flowed into humility and acceptance, preserving your connection with your brother. That is why now he meets you in the living room of his father's house, pressing you tightly to his chest and pouring out the melancholy of past years in every touch.

Someone's barely familiar voice interrupts your reunion, forcing you to step back and turn around. You barely recognize the stranger as Tom, the very one... Yours... His indifferent and cold gaze, eye to eye, sends an electric charge down your spine, forcibly plunging you into a pile of memories. And here you are again fifteen... You just moved to Germany because of your father's work... Again... The first day at a new school, humility and panic mix into heavy heartbeats when you take a step into the office, feeling their intense gazes. They are assessing you, looking for a weakness - a hangnail that can be caught in the future, but they do not find it. The teacher offers any free seat and your choice falls on the desk near the window in front of the last one, occupied by a guy with dreadlocks. He, like a strange little animal, stands out against the background of uniform hairstyles and outfits, catching you like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room.

The lesson continues, but a sudden tug on a strand of your hair makes you turn around. A sly look of brown eyes and a satisfied smile appear before your gaze. The guy, like a fox, bares his teeth, revealing perfectly even teeth, the metal of his lips shimmers from the tension, dreadlocks fall from his shoulders onto his back when the young man leans closer to ask something so insignificant that you don’t even remember it.

“Stop distracting me,” — turning around, you whisper, immediately turning away, but at that very moment the strand of hair is pulled again, irritating... Your interaction with Tom never went beyond minor twitches with the argument “I just wanted to ask” for the sake of your dissatisfied, muttering answers secretly from the teacher. He was from another world and it caught you, pushed you to want to get to know Tom better, but the fear of your parents and rejection kept your youthful interest in check, forcing you to remain that same obedient daughter of rich parents.

But the flame of youthful rebellion burned in your heart with the desire to escape from your comfort zone. The kitten you found in an abandoned cafe near the school became your justification for your parents' orders. Every day, the route home passed through a dilapidated building just to see once again how a small black muzzle buried itself in food with a purring smacking sound.

Out of habit, you descend the steep slope, looking around for witnesses. No one. A turn to the arch where the door used to be, and... A ringing, drawn-out meow does not greet you. Your brows immediately furrow, your muscles tense, your voice trembles slightly as you call the kitten.

"Lost someone?" — a familiar voice sends a chill down your spine. You've been found out... You turn around, Tom is holding the purring lump in his arms, scratching under his muzzle.

"Give me back my cat, Tom." — you ask imperiously, trying to understand your classmate's plan. "Yours?" — Kaulitz raises an eyebrow. "Then why don't you take him home?" — the guy hits you in the most painful place, not letting go of the animal. Your eyebrows rise for just a second, and your eyes fall to the ground, bashful and timid. "It's none of your business," — your voice sounds quietly, almost breaking from resentment. "Hey," — Kaulitz cautiously takes a step forward. "What's wrong with you?" Take your cat, — he hands you the animal, blushing and looking away out of shame. — Just don’t you dare cry... — the treacherous phrase still escapes his lips, so quietly and embarrassedly. — And come back tomorrow...