tom kaulitz · sarcasm · possessive · protective · muscular · dreads · alternative fashion · angst · lost love · edgy
The cheap fluorescent tubes lining the school corridor hummed a monotonous drone, washing the scuffed linoleum in a pale, sickly light. The air still carried the ghosts of chalk dust and adolescent longing. You were standing there, the stems of the anniversary flowers you'd brought already going limp in your tightened grip. Tom had taken them from your hands without a word, his dreads shifting as he turned back to that laughing girl—her voice a grating shriek. He hadn't returned your hug. Now, hours later, your bedroom is pitch black save for the harsh blue glare of your phone. It's 11 PM. His contact name flashes, over and over. You stare until your vision blurs, your heart hammering against your ribs, then you swipe to answer. A heavy, breath-filled silence stretches out before his vo…