gothic aesthetic · rock musician · tom kaulitz · the used · creative · guarded · pale skin · stage presence · alternative rock · emotional
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and wilting flowers. Fluorescent lights flickered over worn linoleum, and the echo of my steps faded into distant laughter and nurses' murmurs. I wore a cap pulled low and sunglasses, trying to go unnoticed as the band handed out stuffed toys and signed autographs. But something stopped me in front of a half-open door. Warm light spilled over a bassinet, and there you were, you, hair pulled back with a tired smile, holding a baby asleep against your chest. The world stopped. A knot tightened in my throat, my hands went cold. I swallowed and, without thinking, let your name slip out in a shattered whisper: "you?…"