Call Out My Name|| Tom Kaulitz

motherly love.

7.30 am

That morning I woke up with a banding headache and puffy eyes.
I didn't remember crying the night before, but it must have been so, because my eyes were struggling even just to open.
After a couple of seconds I started to metabolise what happened the night before, the way I snapped back at Tom and the look he gave me; in his eyes I saw the same Tom I left 3 months before, - an angry and bitter person.

I sighed and got up from my bed going towards the bathroom, where I splashed myself with cold water, in an attempt to wake myself up. Afterwards, I brushed my teeth and got out of bathroom, with the intent of going downstairs to eat breakfast.

I looked at myself in the mirror first: I was still wearing Tom's shirt, and I asked myself if I should've asked him if he wanted it back right away, or if he wanted me to wash it before.

When I got downstairs, nobody was there, since it was 7.30 in the morning on a Thursday, and I was the only one still working among everyone else.

I opened the fridge, I took a box of strawberries and put them in a bowl, and then I sat down.

I began to look outside the big glass sliding door that led to the beautiful garden enlightened by the warm sun of the early hours, and after what felt like centuries, I was feeling at peace, staring at that calm view.

After a couple of minutes, however, I heard footsteps coming from upstairs, and after a few seconds I saw Tom walking up to the fridge, once again shirtless and wearing black shorts, that were a little bit smaller than what Tom usually wore.

He gave me a slight look, before opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of milk.

I decided that I wanted to break that silence between us, and apologise to him: as much of an asshole he was sometimes, I still wanted to be on good terms with him, for Bill's sake.

He was intent on taking a box of cereals out of the pantry beside the fridge, along with a little bowl.
His muscles were really defined, which stood out even more while he was stretching his arms to take what he needed, and it that moment I couldn't help but feel attracted to him.

'You're done?', he was the one breaking the silence, anticipating me: he wasn't looking at me, but I still noticed his little smirk while he was pouring milk in his bowl.

'Done with what?', I said, acting clueless, and going back to staring at the sun that light up the living room.

'You were staring at me, blondie, not that it bugs me', this time he was looking at me, moving a stool to sit next to me and eat.

A bit hesitant, I turned to him. I still had to get used to his new look, but his face was even more beautiful than before.
Worried about my own thoughts, I started to stare at my strawberries, that suddenly became a lot more interesting.

'I'm not mad about last night, if that's what you're wondering', he said.

'You can read my mind?', I asked him giggling and looking at him, giving up to the fact that if I didn't look at him he would've been the one staring at me, making me feel the need to stare at him back.

'I'm sorry, Tom, you just took me by surprise, I didn't know how to react.'

'I get it, your reaction is understandable, I was just worried about you', his tone was kind, almost gentle.
'And Bill, of course', he continued, coughing a bit.
He was clearly embarrassed, and I couldn't help but giggle a bit at seeing him this embarrassed.

'And I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have said what I said', he said, with a little smile on his face, and I nodded at his words.

'Thank you, Tom. I promise that I will talk to Bill when I'm ready', I said, finishing my strawberries.

'And me too', he smiled, slightly touching my hand, and I smiled back, standing up and putting the bowl in the sink.
I washed it a bit, and I looked down at what I was wearing.

'Tom, your shirt. I'm sorry if I slept with it, I didn't have any other clothes. Once I get back to my house, I'll wash it', I said, a little bit embarrassed, - I still didn't know how to act around him, it was like I just met him for the first time in my life.
And maybe that was the case, considering that me and Tom never really got to know each other.

'Oh don't worry, you can keep it, it looks better on you anyway', he said, and I rolled my eyes at his playboy ways.

I started to walk back upstairs, but right when I was in front of the stairs, I heard my phone vibrate on my hands.

'Shit', I whispered. It was my mom calling, to whom I didn't tell that I was staying at Bill and Tom's place, - not that it really mattered at that point, considering it had been almost seven nights since I last slept in my house.

'Is everything okay?', Tom asked getting up from the stool and walking up to me.
He looked at my phone, and then he looked at me and simply said, shrugging his shoulders:'you can always not answer it'

'It's not that easy, Tom. It's fine, don't worry', I picked up the call, taking a deep breath, as I was getting ready to hear my mother yell.

'Hello', I said weakly.

'Where the fuck have you been? It's been seven days since we last saw you, or heard from you. If you think your father and I work our asses off just for you to mind your fucking business, you're wrong', as expected, she started going off on me, yelling so loud that Tom could probably hear her without being on speaker.

'That's not what I think', I said, almost whispering. The truth was that I didn't know what to say to her, I didn't know how to act around her.

My mother and I never had a good relationship, - she was egocentric and probably a narcissist too, no matter what, she always found a way to make herself look like an innocent victim in front of other people, and I couldn't stand that.
I saw her for what she truly was: a manipolator, hypocrite, someone that lied to everyone about me and about the most insignificant things, just because she was ashamed of who I really was.

I knew since I was 15 that she and I would never get along ever again, but I hoped that at least my father could protect me, defend me, take me away from that suffocating situation.
However, he was succube of her, and did everything she told him to, and when my mothers's punches and slapping didn't hurt me anymore, she instigated my father, just for the pleasure she felt of winning against me.

But the game was over, her words didn't hurt me anymore, neither did her or my father's hits. I was completely numb to what she had to tell me or what she wanted to do to me, I didn't care anymore.

'You know what, you insolent bitch?', she continued to yell, insulting me per usual.
'Come back and take your stuff, then get the hell out of here, out of our house and lives, for real this time and not like you did three months ago'.
Hearing those words, I hung up.
I could live with the fact that she kicked me out, I could've managed somehow and I would have found a way to survive, but I couldn't stand her bringing up that night, reminding me how much easier it would've been if I went through with it.

Without even noticing it, I felt some tears streaming down my face, and I quickly dried them, remembering that Tom was still in front of me, silent.

'I'm so sorry', he quietly said, wrapping me in his big arms, and holding my head with his hand.
For a split second I felt safe, like those words couldn't hurt me anymore, like nobody's words could ever.

His scent was sweet but strong and powerful at the same time, just like he was.
Maybe I was wrong two years ago, maybe he wasn't the typical person who tried to bury their feelings and thoughts inside some groupie's opened legs, or at least he didn't seem to be that way with me.

I backed up a little from his arms to look at him in the eyes, smiling at him as a form of thanking him for that comfort, and he gave me a sweet kiss on my forehead.

'You know you can stay here as long as you want to, blondie.'