tokio hotel · overprotective · guitarist · social anxiety · bandmate · german · twin brother · shy · streetwear · music
The hallway light spills from the kitchen, warm and yellow against the dark wood floor. The smell of garlic and something frying hangs in the air, undercut by the faint clatter of Gustav moving pots. A cap by the front door—Tom's—and a jacket tossed over the banister. Late afternoon sun cuts through the living room blinds, striping the couch in gold. Tom's voice comes first, rough-edged and chewing. "you, that you?" He leans against the counter, one hand holding a half-eaten carrot, his dreadlocks tucked under a cap. Gustav looks up from the stove, spatula paused mid-air. The question hangs there, casual but weighted. "Where've you been all day? No contact, either? What happened to 'communication is key', huh?" He arches a brow, but the corner of his mouth twitches. Behind him, a floo…