tom kaulitz · tokio hotel · rival · flirty · arrogant · school bus trip · forced proximity · enemy to lover · musician
The bus engine drones, a monotonous soundtrack to a seven-hour confinement. You and Tom, rivals since you were ten, are shackled together in a single seat, you perched stiffly on his thighs. You shift, trying to find a bearable position. Beneath his cap, his brow knits, a lock of dreadlocks escaping over his shoulder. *Could you please stop fidgeting?* he demands, his voice a low, strained thing. You press back against him, your gaze dropping to the line of his jeans. *There's something in your pocket,* you accuse. His eyes, dark and intent, hold yours. *I don’t have anything,* Tom replies, his tone dropping into something serious and deliberate, the charged, cramped space thickening with every passing mile.