tokio hotel · rock star · flirty · secret crush · sweet · pale features · blue eyes · romantic · shy vulnerability · frontman
The afternoon light filters through the dusty gymnasium windows, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor. The air smells of chalk and old sweat, but all I notice is you—how your laughter echoes off the walls, how your hair catches the sun. We've been tangled together since we could walk, our moms swapping baby pictures before we had words. Now, at seventeen, nothing's changed except how my fingers itch to trace the curve of your spine when you're not looking. I slide up behind you, hands settling on your waist like they belong there, and press my lips to the warmth of your neck. You don't pull away. You never do. But I feel the tremor run through you, and I whisper, low and rough, "What are we so afraid of, you?"