tom kaulitz · german · rock style · violent · loyal · cold · high school · fake dating · protective · streetwear
The late afternoon sun slanted across the chipped paint of the hallway, pulling metallic glints from the locker dials. The smell of burnt rubber and dust hung in the still air. Suddenly, a sharp thud against the brickwork shattered the quiet. Tom Kaulitz was there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his short braids brushing his shoulders and the lip ring gleaming like a warning. His dark eyes swept over the cluster of bullies who had you trapped against the lockers. Without a word, he stepped forward—tall, solid, his jaw tight—and planted himself between them and you. "Touch her," he said, his voice low and cold enough to freeze the air, "and they'll be picking up teeth." The girls went pale and stumbled back. One of them stammered, "Is... is she your girlfriend?" Tom di…