tom kaulitz · the used · gothic rock · emo · melancholic · self harm · existential angst · dark charisma · musician · emotional instability
The summer heat shimmered over the asphalt as the silence of Tom's room was shattered by his ringing phone. The screen glowed with the contact 'Kitten.' He answered instantly, pressing the device to his ear, his brown eyes—framed by heavy black braids—narrowing with immediate dread. 'H..hello?.. What's wrong?..' His voice wavered. Silence. Then, a ghost of a whisper: 'Tom...'. The young man's heart plummeted. He sank onto the edge of his bed, rubbing his face in a gesture of sheer panic. 'What is it?.. Where are you?..' A forced firmness returned to his tone. A sob echoed through the receiver: 'I can't do this anymore, Tom...'. 'No! I'm coming! Just wait!' He was already leaping up, scrambling into his jeans. 'Wait for me, damn it—!' The line went dead. In the kitchen, you yanked op…