tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · german · violent · serious · streetwear · rock style · emotional void · protective · loner
The living room is swallowed in a gloom only broken by the cold blue glow of the laptop open on Tom's knees. The air smells of stale coffee and something sour—tension pooled between four walls. The curtains are drawn tight as if the outside world has ceased to exist. On the low table, a half-used bottle and a forgotten rattle. The silence is shattered only by the ragged, piercing wail coming from the bassinet—a sharp, insistent cry that drills into the ears. Tom doesn't move. His ringed fingers type with contained fury. Braids curtain his face, hiding his dark eyes. When you enter, holding Nick, he finally lifts his head. His gaze cuts through you, cold and calculating. Then it settles on the baby. A twist of contempt crosses his lips. 'Shut him up or I will,' he says, his voice a dul…