On Tour ~ [Tom Kaulitz]

[28] to lovers

The lights had been turned off about an hour ago, and I had still refused to talk to him. He left the apartment and woke me up from my thoughts when he walked back in, even though I could tell he was trying his best to be quiet for me.

I must have felt safer once he was near, because I managed to doze off a little. It felt like hours. Hours of laying alone with the person whom I have called my enemy, and doing nothing but long for his embrace.

In the middle of the night, some ruffling sounds cause me to open my eyes, and they land on Tom walking in the room. It's pitch black outside, but the moonlight lits up the entire room. But even more important, it lit him up. He walked past the second bed and stopped by the window. He was bare-chested, and his muscles were extra defined in the moonlight.

My hand held onto my pillow and pulled it down a little so I could watch him better. Tom wore wide, black jeans that were secured with a belt. I held my gaze on him as he gently lifted a glass up from the small table and poured himself a small amount of bourbon. He twirled the glass a little and watched the drink before he put the glass on his bottom lip and downed it, his face turning sour as he put the glass down. Yet he still lifted the bottle to get himself another drink.

He reached towards the chair, and took his black button-up, which was resting on the arm. I sigh quietly, my mind both calm and racing at the same time. Tom pulls the shirt over his arms, but doesn't close the buttons and wears it like a jacket instead.

Good, I think. With the moonlight shining from outside and his side facing the window, I had a perfect view of his abs. I never noticed his body before like that. Then he pulls a notebook with a dark brown leather cover from the table and sits down in one of the chairs. He pulls the extremely thin curtain to the side and glaces through the window, which makes his jawline stand out.

I can't pull my eyes away from him; watching him move around is intimidating in a good way. Mesmerizing.

Tom opens the notebook and grabs a pen, lingering it over the page. It's the same book he was writing in when he took a picture of Tessa and opened up about his own dog passing away. Now I realize it's where he writes down lyrics.

Suddenly, he moves his gaze to look at me. A shadow falls on his face, but his features are still clear. His face softened when he made eye contact with me and realized I was already looking at him.

My first thought is to close my eyes and adjust my position, pretending to go back to sleep. But I can still feel his eyes on me, and after a moment, I carefully open them again. We lock eyes for the second time, and my chest rises when I inhale deeply.

Tom gently puts the pen down and closes his notebook, then gets up from the chair and takes one more sip from the glass. He walks up to the bed, and every step he takes seems meaningful. His broad shoulders moved elegantly with every stride, until he slowly sat down on the edge of my bed, leaning on his knuckles.

I swallow nervously, watching him lift one of his legs onto the mattress, pull himself next to me, and lie down with his hand supporting his head. He never broke eye contact with me. I clutch my pillow when he glances down at my lips, and I pull my face a little closer to his.

"I don't think you're a monster," I whisper quietly, breaking the silence. Tom doesn't answer but looks down at where our hands are lying next to each other, just a few inches apart. I watch as his index finger reaches out, and after a second, I do the same with mine until they touch.

Tom breathes out slowly. "But you hate me."

"Yes," I say, gulping. "I hate you."

His eyes flickered up from our hands to look at me again. "Is that all you feel for me? Hate?" He asks after a moment of silence.