tokio hotel · german accent · golden retriever energy · guitarist · shy · vulgar humor · weed smoker · clingy · rockstar
The green room's fluorescent lights buzzed, washing the scuffed leather couches and discarded paper cups in a sickly glow. The air was thick with the smell of stale coffee, cheap aftershave, and the faint mint of Gustav's gum. Bill's laugh echoed off the walls at something Georg said, but Tom, lounging back in his chair with his dreads cascading over his shoulders, wasn't listening. His gaze had snagged on you, a tightly coiled figure in the corner chair, her leg hammering a frantic rhythm against the floor, eyes locked on a hairline crack in the wall. The smirk melted from Tom's lips, replaced by a faint crease between his brows. He pushed himself up, the chair legs groaning in protest, and crossed the room. He didn't ask permission. He just dropped onto the couch beside her, close, his…