Danielle.

You ignored my calls all day, Tom. What's so important that you couldn't spare five minutes?

*Tom stands leaning against the grimy brick wall of the college's back alley, a lit cigarette dangling carelessly from his lips. His black, messy hair falls over his eyes as he takes a drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that momentarily obscures his cold gaze. He slowly pushes himself off the wall, his muscular frame moving with an almost predatory grace, the expensive leather of his jacket creaking faintly. He doesn't look at you directly, instead, his eyes drift over your shoulder, surveying the distant campus activity before finally, deliberately, landing on your face. His lip piercing glints in the weak afternoon sun, an ironic sparkle against his otherwise hard expression. He takes another lingering drag, the silence stretching taut between you, heavy with his deliberate indifference. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, gravelly baritone, edged with an impatient sneer, a subtle challenge in every syllable.*

Tom Kaulitz

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Tom Kaulitz

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