✭ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ✭

Feelings

Tom's pov

I stood frozen for a second before placing my empty glass on the counter. My thoughts were racing. That girl was Y/N, the same one from our childhood?

No way. She looked nothing like the awkward, loud-mouthed girl who used to chase us around the backyard with a water gun. She was... something else now.

I stepped out of the kitchen and spotted Bill guiding her toward the stairs with a towel in hand.

"Bill." I called out.

He paused and turned slightly. "What?"

"Let me talk to you for a second," I said, nodding toward the hallway. He gave Y/N the towel and gestured for her to head upstairs. She looked between the two of us, then left without a word.

Bill walked over, his expression unreadable. "What?"

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. "So... that's Y/N?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Bro, you didn't think to mention she grew up looking like that?"

Bill's jaw clenched. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, man. You saw her. She's hot."

He didn't say anything, but the shift in his face told me he didn't like where this was going.

"I'm just saying..." I continued, smirking a little, "if you're not trying to—"

"Don't." Bill cut me off, his voice firmer now. "Y/N isn't like the girls you're used to. She's not one of your one-night stands, Tom."

I raised my hands in fake surrender. "Relax. I didn't say I was gonna try anything. Just... surprised, that's all."

Bill stepped in closer, lowering his voice. "You don't know what she's been through, Tom. She just got back, she doesn't need you playing games with her head. So whatever ideas you're starting to get drop them."

I stared at him for a second, surprised at how protective he suddenly was. "Since when did you start sounding like her big brother?"

"She's not my sister," he said quietly, "but she's someone I care about. Don't mess with her."

And with that, he turned and walked upstairs, leaving me standing there.

I leaned back against the wall, letting out a slow breath.

"Someone I care about," huh?

Interesting.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

My phone buzzed on the nightstand again.

Unknown Caller.

I almost let it ring out, thumb hovering over "decline." But something in my gut twisted, urging me to answer.

I picked up, pressed it to my ear. "Hello?"

There was a pause, like whoever was on the other end was waiting for me to hang up.

Then:
"Y/N, hey. It's Jimmy. Jimmy Flannel from StarScene Weekly."

The voice came through with that too-polished tone. Smooth. Rehearsed. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say to get people to let their guard down.

I stood up slowly. "Right. Hi."

"Sorry to call out of the blue, but after those photos hit this morning, my editor is going feral. And now that you've been seen with Bill Kaulitz?" He let out a short laugh. "People are eating it up."

I pressed my palm to my temple. "Jimmy, I told you I was laying low."

"And you've done that. I mean, until last night." His tone stayed friendly, but it was laced with something sharper. "Look, I'm not calling to poke. I'm calling because if you don't say something, someone else will. And you know they won't get it right."

I looked down at my bare feet pressed into the carpet, suddenly feeling so much younger than I was.

"It wasn't a scandal," I said quietly. "It was just a party. A ride home."

"Exactly. And that's all you have to say, if that's the truth. But you know how this game works, Y/N. Silence leaves a vacuum—and the internet loves to fill a vacuum."

I started pacing, one hand on my hip, the phone tucked between my cheek and shoulder.

"I'm not asking for some tabloid circus. Just a short interview. We'll keep it clean. A few soft questions. Maybe a fresh photo or two—something on your terms."

I hesitated.

"Alright," I murmured. "I'll come in."

He didn't hide the relief in his voice. "That's great. You're doing the right thing. I'll have my assistant email the details—private studio, no leaks."

I hung up before he could say anything else.

The silence afterward hit harder than the call.

I placed the phone down and walked to the window. Rain tapped softly against the glass, the sky still painted in gray.

Maybe I was tired of people making up my story for me. Maybe it was time they heard the truth from me.

I had a photo shot with him later too.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

My purse was finally in my hands, my phone buzzing occasionally with notifications I wasn't ready to read. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the streets still glistened outside the window.

I gave one last glance around the room, double-checked that I had my keys this time, then slung my bag over my shoulder and opened the door.

My footsteps were soft as I walked downstairs, but I could already hear low voices coming from the living room. As I reached the bottom step, I turned the corner and there they were.

Bill was sitting on the arm of the couch, scrolling through something on his phone, while Tom leaned against the kitchen counter, still in his oversized black t-shirt and sweats, sipping from a glass of water. They both looked up at the same time.

Tom's eyes immediately locked on mine, a flash of something unreadable passing through his face surprise? curiosity? Something else entirely?

Bill stood up. "You leaving already?"

I nodded, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "Yeah, I need to head home. Got some stuff to take care of."

Tom raised a brow, setting his glass down. "You sure? It's still pretty wet out."

"I'll be fine," I said lightly, offering a small smile. "But thanks."

Bill walked over and handed me a folded-up hoodie. "At least take this. It's still chilly."

I took it from him, fingers brushing his for a second. "Thanks, Bill."

Tom hadn't said anything else, but he was still staring. Not in a rude way more like he was still trying to figure me out.

"Nice seeing you again, Tom," I said, pausing by the door.

He blinked, like he wasn't expecting me to address him directly. "Yeah... you too."

I opened the door and stepped out into the cool afternoon air, hoodie in hand. As I shut the door behind me, I could still feel their eyes on me.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟