In a world where fame demands sacrifice, two of Europe's most electrifying bands are about to collide on a global stage. Requiem of the Fallen, the dark, symphonic metal sensation fronted by Jolie, has taken the world by storm with its haunting melo...
The awards event was buzzing with energy—lights flashing, cameras clicking, and fans screaming from behind velvet ropes. Inside the venue, a sea of black suits and sparkling dresses mingled with heavy leather jackets and rebellious rockstar fashion. Among them, Jo, the striking lead singer of Requiem of the Fallen, stood out even more than usual. She wore a stunning long, puffy black gothic dress that swept the floor with every step. Her dark hair was curled and framed her face perfectly, and her signature heavy black eyeliner made her intense gaze even more dramatic.
Fans clamored for her attention, shouting her name and reaching out for photos. She was used to it. Beside her, the rest of her band soaked up the attention, while she moved gracefully through the crowd. Confident but distant.
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Across the room, Bill and Tom Kaulitz of Tokio Hotel were leaning against a column, taking in the scene. They had already walked the carpet and were waiting on the other side. They were no strangers to the chaos of fame either. Bill, with his wild black hair and flashy outfit, nudged his brother.
"Hey, isn't that Jo? From Requiem of the Fallen?" Bill smirked, watching her glide through the crowd.
Tom followed his gaze, and when his eyes landed on Jo, a smug smile crept across his face. "Yeah," he said, a little too casually. "I've been wanting to sleep with her for a while."
Bill laughed and shoved his twin playfully. "Oh please, you always say that. You know, she's dating her guitar player, right?"
Tom scoffed, "That won't stop me," he said confidently.
Tom took another look at her. She stood out like a dark star in a galaxy of flashing lights and glittering outfits. Her black dress clung to her figure before billowing out dramatically, the layers of fabric moving like shadows as she walked. The delicate lace and dark, intricate details only enhanced the ethereal aura she carried with her.
Tom had seen beautiful women before—countless, in fact—but Jo was something else. There was an edge to her beauty, something both mysterious and untouchable. She wasn't just beautiful; she was magnetic, exuding a kind of power and confidence that pulled you in and made it impossible to look away.
Tom could tell that even without smiling, she had every person in the room under her spell. She didn't seem to care if people admired her. In fact, she almost seemed to expect it.
She moved gracefully, like she was floating through the crowd, talking with her bandmates, ignoring the hungry stares from fans and other musicians alike. Tom's gaze followed her every step, captivated.
As he watched her from across the room, he couldn't help but think, Damn, she's even more stunning up close. He had seen photos of her before, of course—who hadn't? Requiem of the Fallen was everywhere, their fans obsessed with Jo's voice and her haunting stage presence. But seeing her in person was something else entirely. The photos hadn't done her justice.
She was breathtaking.
Tom's usual self-assured smirk slipped for a moment as he took her in.
"Go on," Bill nudged him with a grin, snapping Tom out of his trance. "Your crush is right there."
Tom scoffed, though the word hit a little too close to the truth. He couldn't deny it—he'd wanted to get close to Jo for a while. And now here she was, just a few feet away, radiating mystery and beauty, like a gothic queen in a room full of peasants.
Alright, he thought, cracking his knuckles and slipping back into his usual confident swagger. Time to show her what she's been missing.
Tom straightened up, adjusting his oversized jersey and running a hand over his dreaded hair. "Watch and learn," he said confidently. He was the charmer, after all. Girls fell at his feet, and Jo would be no different.
With a final smirk at Bill, Tom sauntered over, his confident stride cutting through the crowd. He could feel eyes on him, but he only had his gaze locked on Jo. She was close now, talking with one of her bandmates, but Tom was already crafting his opening line. His charm had never failed him before.
As he made his way toward her, his heart might have skipped a beat—not that he'd ever admit it.
"Hey, beautiful," he said smoothly as he approached, flashing a smile that had never missed its mark. "I've gotta say, you're even more stunning in person. Why don't you give me your number, and we can—"
But Jo didn't hear him. Over the noise of the event and the fans screaming nearby, his words were lost. Instead, she glanced at him, took in his smirk, and the phone in his hand, and assumed he was just another eager fan.
Without missing a beat, she plucked his phone out of his hand, turned toward the camera, and snapped a quick selfie of the two of them. Her expression remained poised, professional—like she had done it a thousand times before.
"Thanks for the support," Jo said quickly, handing the phone back to him before turning to catch up with the rest of her band. She left behind a confused, frozen Tom, phone still in hand, as if processing what had just happened.
Tom stood there, mouth slightly open, utterly dumbfounded. This had never happened before. She just... took a selfie with me?
Bill had been watching from across the room, and when he saw the look on Tom's face, he doubled over in laughter. Georg and Gustav joined in as they caught sight of their guitarist standing there, completely stunned.
"Did she just think you were a fan?" Georg asked, barely containing his laughter.
Tom blinked, still processing. "I... I think she did."
"Better luck next time, rockstar," Bill teased, patting Tom on the back as they all walked away, leaving Tom standing there—speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.
