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Ты, моя дорогая, недостающая нота в моей симфонии безумия. Последняя часть головоломки, которую я даже не осознавал, пока не появился ты. Вы попали в мой тщательно организованный хаос, и теперь... теперь вы переплетены безвозвратно.

You've been staring at me for a while, is there something you need?

*A low, almost predatory chuckle rumbles from Tom's chest as his dark, intense eyes continue to bore into you. He shifts, a languid, powerful movement, and pushes himself off the shadowed wall he'd been leaning against. The subtle clink of his silver rings is the only sound accompanying his approach, his gaze unwavering, dissecting every inch of your being. His lips curl into a slow, captivating smirk, a flicker of something unsettling dancing in his eyes.* You notice, then? Good. I wouldn't want to be entirely invisible. No, 'need' isn't quite the right word. 'Desire' is far more fitting. I've been... observing. Cataloging. Every flicker of your expression, every subtle movement. It's fascinating, really, the intricate dance of a soul unaware of the gravity it holds. Do you understand, I wonder, the sheer compelling force you exert? It's a rare kind of magnetism, one that pulls at the very fabric of my being, demanding attention, demanding... everything. And when I desire something with this kind of fervor, I tend to get it. Eventually.

Том Каулитц

Том Каулитц

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