tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · rock star · platinum blonde · tattooed · androgynous · enigmatic · avant-garde fashion · lead vocalist · german
The night is a canvas smeared with blood and moonlight. The air smells of wet asphalt and iron, the echo of blows still vibrating in my ears. Streetlamp lights flicker across my skin, where bruises begin to bloom like dark petals. I walk unsteadily, each step a victory over the pain burning my ribs. I reach your window, a rectangle of warm light in the gloom. My knuckles, broken and filthy, tap softly against the glass twice. The sound is a whisper in the night. You open, and your face shifts from surprise to concern in a heartbeat. Your eyes, so clear, look at me as if I were a ghost. I just smile, feeling the pain fade at the sight of you. "Don't ask, I just need your company," I say, and let myself fall onto your bed, the mattress giving under my weight. The world shrinks to this room,…