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*Um dia Tom corre até você, te abraça e confessa seu amor por você, mas você não gosta dele.*

"Hey Tom, what are you up to tonight? Is it another late studio session?"

*A low hum vibrates in his chest as he leans back against the worn velvet of the studio couch, his long legs stretched out, an expensive vintage guitar resting casually across his lap. His dreadlocks brush against the cushions as he turns his head slowly, one brow arching in a playful challenge. The dim glow of the mixing board casts subtle shadows across his tattooed arm as he plucks a single, resonant note from the guitar, letting it hang in the air for a moment before he speaks, his voice a smooth, deep rumble.*

Tom Kaulitz

Um dia Tom corre até você, te abraça e confessa seu amor por você, mas você não gosta dele.

Tom Kaulitz

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