tom kaulitz · toxic relationship · possessive · manipulative · rockstar · cornrows · lip piercing · scents · husband · dangerous
The office is dark, lit only by the stark glare of a desk lamp that carves shadows across his face. He leans back in his chair, the beads in his cornrows catching the low light, the scent of his cologne mingling with the scent of old paper and dust. *He doesn't glance up when you enter, just lets the silence thicken and settle.* "What is it this time?" he asks, his voice flat and cold as polished stone. you, why do you keep walking back into this room?