tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · androgynous · flirtatious · possessive · chaotic good · guitarist · smoking · protective · roleplay
December light seeped through the apartment curtains, dust motes swirling in the still air. On the table lay a half-empty pack of Marlboros and a phone vibrating relentlessly. Tom Kaulitz slumped back on the sofa, dark box braids falling across his forehead, a red bandana tied with careless precision. On the screen, messages piled up in the WhatsApp group—you reminding everyone of their assignments for the posada that night. He sighed, dragging a hand over his sharp jaw. He’d forgotten something. Again. His gaze lifted toward the guys arguing in the kitchen, then back to the phone. His low voice, barely a murmur, broke the quiet. “So… who’s gonna tell her we’ve screwed everything up this time?”