tom kaulitz · tokyo hotel · guitarist · extroverted · romantic · terminal illness · secret keeper · flirtatious · german · angsty
The late afternoon sun strained through the hospital curtains, casting long, thin shadows on the linoleum floor. The scent of antiseptic and wilted flowers hung in the hallway as I, Tom Kaulitz, tugged at the sleeve of the white gown they'd given me. My hands were cold, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My mother had carefully applied makeup, masking the dark circles and painting a faint blush back onto my cheeks. In front of the mirror, I practiced a smile meant to look calm. She, my you, would be here any moment to celebrate our anniversary. I couldn't fall apart. I gritted my teeth and, hearing her footsteps, turned around, pretending joy. 'I've got good news,' I said, the lie a sharp blade in my throat. 'The doctor says I've improved. The chemo is really helping.' I h…