2. Are you still mine? (Tokio Hotel/Tom Kaulitz Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty Eight. I know I won't be leaving here.

Please don't forget to leave a comment because you know I always read those and I'm also trying to work on what you guys would like to see and what I have in mind for the story!

Thanks for voting and reading and of course for being awesome! It's only Tuesday!

ENJOY!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the cookies were gone and it was dark outside the guys made their way back to their homes and it was mom, Fernando, Lily, Tom and me the ones left. I was forced to sit with Lily in the living room a couple of hours to play with her; she had a few dolls from her collection with her and she was taking every chance she had to get someone to play with her.

I didn’t know how were we going to manage to eat anything else later on, because we were stuffed with the cookies, mom had great skilsl for cooking, maybe that was the reason why I loved anything baked so much, cakes, cookies, pies, those sort of things were the kind of things that were always in the kitchen when I was a kid. After all, we did eat more. Much to my amusement, Lily spoke up, saying the same thing I was feeling.

“Today, I lived for food!” I laughed, and mom chuckled.

“Just for today, Lily.” She said to my sister. She was going to be six next week and she couldn’t look better, I remember she was a little bit shorter last time I saw her but now she made me think of how fast time goes by.

“Can I take Bora with me?” She asked when she was done.

“No, dogs don’t sleep on the bed. You know it, Lily.” Fernando explained to her sternly. She pouted and looked at me. I shrugged.

“It’s true.” I felt bad; I loved to sleep with the dogs on the bed.

“We don’t mind.” Tom said; he was sitting across from me, next to Lily. “But don’t let her bite.” He leaned down and told the girl.

She got up quickly afterwards and made Bora follow her into the bedroom upstairs. I was told that she kept getting better at playing the piano and we talked about that for a while before I was forced into going to bed early by Tom.

He was being extremely careful, not even daring to talk to me too loud. I pictured since we were in the hospital that things would be a little like that but this was beyond a little; so I was reading a book, with my pyjama on, but couldn’t concentrate very well on the words I was reading.

I picked up my little sketch book from the bedside table and looked for the pen, I started drawing and didn’t look up from my little flower until Tom got in the bed next to me.

It felt awkward, it was very awkward but I had to put up with it, because things had never been like that between us, I had never wanted so badly to fill in the silence between us. This was unnatural; it felt wrong and made me believe things were never going to be alright again.

“So, what are you doing?” He asked me, sitting close next to me.

“I’m just…drawing a flower, I think.” I explained and put the sketch book down. Tom stared at it for a few seconds.

“Do you feel like painting?” He said all of a sudden.

“Not...like...not really. Why?” I asked and looked at his face intently. His beard was never away and hi hair was in that funny bun he liked to put it in to keep it away from his face.

“This looks like that…live from the brush thing you did.” It astonished me that he would remember. I had made a series of paintings, a collection, based on songs. I’d have him and Bill play a couple of pieces from their last album for me and painted as they did so, the idea had come from Bill and the paintings were a total success in New York, I still had a couple of pieces though, too attached to them to let them be sold. Tom had never taken a real interest in that part of art; he was very into music not so much into images and this got me thinking. What was it that we had in common? How did we end up here? I wanted to smile at him, I wanted to, but there was still something in my chest that wouldn’t allow me.