KEROSENE // Tom Kaulitz

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It was more than just love. More than infatuation. Tom was utterly obsessed with Renée. She was everything to him, and he felt as though he could breathe her in like she was his source of oxygen. He adored her so much it hurt him. He hallucinated seeing her face anywhere he went, couldn't sleep without her there, couldn't hug or touch anyone without imagining her, and couldn't ground himself to reality. All he could think of were those piercing icy eyes of hers which he just wanted to rip out and store for himself, to remind himself of her constantly. Her light caramel-auburn hair which he wanted to cut off and keep in a locket so a piece of her would always be close. Her lips he desperately wanted to bruise with his own, and her skin which he wanted to see her smooth, glistening blood flow from. He needed to listen to her band, Mourning Doves and their music. He was so in love that he was convinced she learnt guitar because of him; and she was hopelessly in love with him. He couldn't go a day without watching her shows, or fantasising about her... having her to himself. The combination of the two gave him an idea; Victoria's Secret was hosting a show and he knew that he wanted to go for Renée, who he knew would be there. But he didn't want to go there just to watch her strut her stuff on the catwalk — no, no, he wanted to go there to catch her. To bring her home with him and keep her for as long as she lived, and boy did he have a plan on how to capture her.

(Time skip)

The day had finally arrived. The fashion show was going to happen in less than an hour. Renée was sat in her dressing room, looking into the mirror nervously before the show would start. Shed had her hair styled to make it appear wispy and seductive. Her makeup artists had already put on eyeliner, mascara, highlighter, contour and concealer as well as lip gloss to heighten her feminine appearance. She was feeling nervous, but it wasn't like she hadn't done this before. She took a deep breath in and looked into her own gaze through her reflection. The room was eerily silent. She didn't hear the mumbling of the other models or makeup artists outside like she usually would. She found this calming, and therapeutic at the time, but later on it would become much, much different.

Renée exhaled softly and gave herself a few spritz of perfume to make her image bolder, and hopefully break the silence for a moment or so. She leaned against her dressing table where she had been sat, neatly assorted perfume bottles, lipsticks, lotions, nail polishes, lipsticks and lip balms separated amongst the table. The mirror itself was relatively minimalist, and was coloured white with a few lights around the frame. Renée loved her dressing room, but wanted to be out on the runway right now as well — which the suspense was killing her. In the comfortable silence, her eyes closed and she took in the warm temperature of the room. Her eyes began to close — but she was torn away from her thoughts when she heard a soft rattle for a second or so, and then a rustle. Well, not just a rustle, but a continuous rustling noise. Renée initially decided to ignore it once the silence pursued again, and assumed it must've just been wind being that the vents in her window were open. It was a windy day anyway. As her eyes began to close again, she suddenly felt a strong pair of arms around her waist, one of which reaching up to cover her mouth to prevent her from making noise. Renée instinctively began to squirm and escape the cold embrace; but it was useless. The last thing she felt was a needle sticking into her upper arm before she inevitably blacked out completely.

...

"Awake now?" A strong male voice boomed, along with a prominent German accent. Renée's eyes fluttered open to see a man looming over her body which laid on the cold hard tile floor. She gasped and swung her hand up to punch him in the jaw before she got to note his appearance. She hoisted herself up regardless if she was dazed and loopy at the moment.
"What the fuck?!" She exclaimed, backing away from him against a wall to keep as much distance as possible. The man appeared to be around her age, possibly a bit older. Renée guessed he must have been 18 or 19. She gazed at him, his prominent features being his baggy style of clothing, common in guys from the 90s to the 2000s. He wore a cap with a sort of headband underneath, and dreadlocks. He had dark, alluring eyes and a ring on his lip. She couldn't help but feel fascinated; but she knew this wasn't the place or time to feel this way.
"I like your accent." He replied nonchalantly, like he hadn't just been punched square in the jaw. Then his gaze met Renée's. "You're prettier in person. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. You're especially beautiful now you're vulnerable, and not being fake for TV."

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but I need you to let me the fuck out." Renée's breathing got quicker as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. This was like those crime thrillers she read as a kid. She never thought she'd be in a hostage situation like this. The man merely looked at her with a puzzled expression, and didn't care to respond. "Well? Say something!" She exclaimed, looking around the room for anything she could use to defend herself if necessary, only to find nothing. The man climbed up from his position on the floor and walked over to Renée calmly. He knew she had nowhere to run, so he just calmly approached her. Renée was very clearly frightened by this and she started making as much distance as she could by walking sideways, her back scratching painfully against the brick wall. Within 45 seconds or so of this, her foot caught in a rope on the floor he'd set up, causing for her to tumble on the floor. She yelped and prepared to shout at him, when she felt him climb atop her and restrain her body via straddling. He instantly leaned in close to her face and spoke in a stern and sure voice.
"Listen to me, you little prick. You're not going anywhere outside this room. Do you hear me?!" He shouted in her face. Renée, feeling intimidated due to her helplessness and inability to move, decided it was best for her to just obey his command. She nodded quickly, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
"Okay... I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice soft and cracking slightly.

"Atta girl." He responded as if he hadn't just yelled at her. He smirked and got off her, brushing himself off. He was about to leave the room, when he heard Renée's weak voice arise again. "What's your name?" She mumbled, propping herself up so she was sitting on her knees. She looked up at him, not recognising him yet.
"Tom." Is all he said, eyeing down her body, which was pretty revealed due to the nature of the fashion show she was going to perform at... well, before this happened.
"Oh.... I'm Ren-"
"I know your name." Tom cut her off bluntly. "Renée Aceline. Monégasque supermodel, also from a girl group called Mourning Doves." He replied. "I'm infatuated by you, Aceline. Thats why I took you from the dressing room." He said

Renée's eyes cast downwards. "Oh..." is all she could choke out. She sighed and stayed sat on her knees. "I'm sorry. You can go now if you want...." She said, tears spilling down her cheeks. Tom took a glance at her, noticing she was crying. He sighed and walked over to her, brushing a few hairs away from her face.
"You don't need to cry. You're too cute for that." He said, sitting down beside her. He felt a rush of sympathy for the girl, but not enough to let her go. Instead he decided to comfort her and hope she'd go to sleep once she'd calmed down. He pulled her weak body against his and embraced her, sharing his body warmth with her in case she felt cold in that room all by herself. He buried his face in her hair and placed a hand on the small of her back. "There we go..." he mumbled, feeling Renée ease into him slightly more. She felt her crying cease to a complete stop the longer he held her in his arms — in a way she felt comforted by his scent, but she was too tired by now to realise that she was hugging her literal kidnapper. Tom watched her eyes begin to close, and her body get limper as she eventually succumbed to the hands of sleep. He sighed himself, and raked his hands gently through her silken hair to ease himself a little. This being the last thing that Renée remembered from that very day....