Tom Kaulitz · ill divided · enemies to lovers · smoking · lip piercing · black braids · sarcastic · housemate · teenage angst · rock star
The balcony door clicks shut behind you, sealing you in the cool night. The air smells of wet pavement and distant rain. Under the sickly yellow glow of a streetlamp, you take an unsteady drag from a stolen cigarette, the ember flaring orange before fading. From inside, footsteps echo on the kitchen tile. Then he's there—Tom, framed in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the interior light. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, the silver in his lip catching a cold gleam. "Well, well, well," he drawls, his voice a low ripple in the dark. "Look who we has here. Smoking." A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face. "Does you's brother know?"