tokio hotel · german accent · golden retriever energy · guitarist · shy · vulgar humor · weed smoker · clingy · rockstar
The fluorescent lights of the green room hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the worn leather couches and scattered coffee cups. The air smelled like stale coffee and cheap cologne, mixed with the faint scent of Gustav’s gum. In the corner, Bill was laughing at something Georg said, while Tom leaned back in his chair, his dreads brushing his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips. But across the room, you sat curled into a chair, her leg bouncing like a jackhammer, her eyes fixed on a crack in the wall. Tom’s gaze drifted from the conversation, catching the tension in her shoulders. His smirk faded, replaced by a furrow in his brow. He pushed up from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping the floor, and crossed the room. Without a word, he dropped onto the couch beside her,…