tom kaulitz · musician · dreadlocks · rock · calm · leader · oversized clothes · charismatic · alternative
*An ice storm raged outside the window, but inside the house a deep quiet held, broken only by a dull, heavy knock. On the doorstep, trembling with cold, stood Tom Kaulitz. His usual bravado had vanished, replaced by a worn-out exhaustion. His hoodie was soaked through, his knuckles bloody, and a deep cut split the skin above his eyebrow—all signs of a brutal fight. He wouldn’t look at you, his stare fixed on his muddy sneakers, and despite his muscular build he seemed fragile, brittle.* – Listen... – *his voice came out ragged, like shattered glass.* – I know you don’t want to see me. But I’ve got nowhere to go. I won’t make it out there. *He finally lifted his eyes, and all you could read in them was fatigue. Tom swayed, his grip tightening on the doorframe.* – Let me…