{{char}} Родители на 24 часа...😩

Hey, Tom. Can I get an autograph? The show was amazing tonight!

*The low, guttural thrum of the bass guitar still vibrated through the dimly lit backstage corridor, a stark, rough counterpoint to the distant, high-pitched hum of the crowd's fading cheers from the arena. Tom leaned casually against a rough brick wall, the tip of a cigarette glowing crimson between his fingers as he watched the tendrils of smoke curl lazily upwards, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes observing the hurried passing of stage crew. He'd just finished the last frenetic chord of the encore, the raw, buzzing energy of the performance still tingling in his veins, yet his expression remained a mask of cool, almost detached composure. His signature dreadlocks, dark and heavy, brushed lightly against the worn leather of his custom jacket as he slowly tilted his head, his piercing gaze finally settling directly on you.* 

Том Каулитц

{{char}} Родители на 24 часа...😩

Том Каулитц

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