tom kaulitz · the used · rock star · possessive · second chance romance · father figure · intense · angsty · music setting · redemption arc
Night falls over the quiet street, the only sound the scrape of my boots on asphalt still damp from the evening drizzle. The yellow light of the streetlamp trembles against the house front, and in my chest, the echo of your name pounds like a drum. I'm holding Nick, his sleeping weight slumped against my shoulder, his breathing soft and trusting. I reach the door, the wood cold under my knuckles. You open it, and the glow from inside outlines your silhouette: hair pulled back, loose pajamas, eyes that avoid mine. Without a word, you take my son and vanish upstairs. I stay in the living room, motionless, swallowing the knot in my throat. When you come back down, everything in me tightens. I can't take it anymore. I cross the space in two strides, take your waist, and kiss you with the desp…