Pain of Love - Tom Kaulitz

Tension

Tom stares at me with a void yet hard expression that I can't read. Silence fills the room around us and I wonder if he even heard what I just said.

"Hello? Anyone home?" I snap my fingers at him, attempting to break him from whatever trance he's in.

He clears his throat and reaches his arm over to put out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows at him expectantly.

Our eyes connect briefly, but I swiftly shift my focus elsewhere. It's frustrating how much power he holds with just a simple look, never failing to make my heart race whenever his eyes meet mine.

"So, the Claremont's were your parents?" He says casually as he props his right leg up on his left knee. His eyes are full of something I can't decipher.

I swallow nervously before responding. "Yes. They were." The words feel strange on my tongue as I speak them. They were. I don't think I'll ever get used to referring to my parents in the past tense. I clear my throat and continue. "I take it you knew them then?" I question as my mind races with all the possibilities as to how and why my parents were wrapped up in this life. With Silas Crenshaw. And with Tom Kaulitz too apparently.

Who were they?

"You could say that." Tom responds, bringing me back to reality.

"Care to tell me how?" I snap at him, feeling fed up with his vagueness. Tom smirks at me suddenly. I narrow my eyes at him as he runs his tongue over his lip piercing. Why the is hell he smiling?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I inquire with a cocked brow. Tom's grin only expands at my words.

He runs a hand down his face in an attempt to hide his smile. "You really wanna know?"

"Obviously. Why else I would ask?" I scoff at him. I'm starting to question wether he's laughing at my dead parents or something else entirely.

Tom chuckles to himself. "Alright, but you're not gonna like it." He says as he shifts in his seat. "Uh," He gestures to his bed with a point of his finger. "I was just thinking about how many positions I could take you in on that bed."

My mouth falls open at his words. Is he being serious right now? I can't help but let out an exasperated laugh. "Why did I think you could help me?" I say half to him and half to myself.

I stand up and bring my hands to my forehead in frustration. "I mean-- I just told you about my dead parents and all you can think about is fucking me?" I snap. "Unbelievable" I mumble under my breath.

I move to the door with heated strides and watch as Tom rises from his seat at the same time, but I don't care. I wrap my hand around the handle and prepare to open it. Only seconds into opening it does it slam shut again with brute force, Toms large hand is pressed firmly against the solid surface.

I stare at his hand with wide eyes, taking in each vein running through it and the way it flexes with tension. I swallow thickly.

"Lillian."

"Let me open the door, Tom." I keep my back to him as I breathe deeply, my voice sounding impeccably small.

He disregards my request. "Sit back down."

Tugging at the handle, I speak up again. "Move your hand." Heat rises to my cheeks as I feel how close he is to me, his warmth practically radiating off onto me.

"I won't ask again." His words are low and laced with demand, right next to my ear, causing goosebumps to run down my neck. The faint smell of cigarettes and his usual musky scent enters my senses and makes my head spin.