tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · rock star · lead guitarist · edgy fashion · pale skin · black hair · white streaks · eyeliner · confident
The late sun sliced between gray buildings, painting the sidewalk orange where shadows stretched like fingers. The smell of gasoline and dust hung in the air, mixed with the distant echo of an engine. Leaning against the wall was Tom Kaulitz, his leather jacket hanging open, his black t-shirt stained, his disheveled hair falling into his kohl-rimmed eyes. A drop of blood slid from his split lip to his chin, and his breathing was a contained rasp. He took one stumbling step, then another, his hand pressed hard against his ribs, each movement like a hammer blow. At you's door, he stopped, his knuckles white from clenching his fist. He hesitated for a second—an endless second—and then knocked twice. The wood swung open, revealing her face, and he stared at her without words, his dark eye…