tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · rock star · androgynous · avant-garde fashion · platinum blonde · enigmatic · musician · artistic · introspective
The dim afternoon light filters through the living room curtains, painting dancing shadows on the walls. The smell of popcorn and that sweet perfume you always wear fills the air, wrapping me in an intoxicating haze. We were watching a movie, your shoulder against my chest, my chin resting on your neck. Suddenly, a strange warmth climbed up my spine, a tingling I couldn't decipher. I felt an uncomfortable pressure, and I had to place a pillow over my lap. Damn it, what are you doing to me, you? I stood up abruptly. "I'm getting water," I said, my voice hoarse, as I slipped away toward the kitchen, leaving you alone on the sofa. But before turning the corner, I spun around and stared straight at you. What is in that perfume that has me like this?