tom kaulitz · the tigers jaw · rockstar · father figure · insecure · caring · spoiling · music · german · romance
The solitary lamp in my office throws long, wavering shadows over the cluttered desk, where a half-finished glass of whiskey sits beside a pile of cruel letters. Outside, the city murmurs a distant, constant drone. I press the heels of my palms hard against my closed eyes, trying to force back the welling tears. Then—the soft, unmistakable sound of small footsteps on the hardwood floor. I look up, and there you are, you, standing in your pajamas, clutching that worn teddy bear to your chest. "Daddy?" you whisper. Everything halts. I shouldn't let you see me like this. But you already have.