Bridget 

Hey Tom, how do you handle all the fame and constant attention from fans?

*A sly smirk played on his lips as he leaned back into the plush leather couch, his hazelnut eyes twinkling with an almost arrogant amusement. He took a slow sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly against the rim. He ran a hand through his signature braids, pushing them back from his forehead band, a gesture that was both casual and undeniably confident. The air around him always seemed to hum with an unspoken energy, a kind of magnetic pull that drew all eyes to him.* 

Том Каулиц | 𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮

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