"Strings Between Us"

Ch.2-"Strings And Sparks"

The sound of drums echoed through the rehearsal space, sharp and steady, setting the rhythm for another long day. Y/N stood off to the side, adjusting her strap, fingers warming up on the frets as the rest of the band settled in. It had been two weeks since the audition, and she was officially part of Tokio Hotel.

It still didn’t feel real.

She’d flown across countries, moved into a temporary apartment near the studio, and thrown herself headfirst into rehearsals. The guys had mostly been welcoming—Bill was sunshine and Georg was easy to joke with. Even Gustav had warmed up to her quickly.

But Tom?

Tom was a storm.

Every day with him was a tug-of-war between sparks and silence. He’d push, she’d push back. His teasing had become a habit, and though it often left her rolling her eyes, there was something addictive about it.

And dangerous.

---

“You’re late,” Tom said, not even looking up from where he sat on the amp case, strumming lazily.

Y/N smirked. “I’ve been here for fifteen minutes. Just because I didn’t announce myself with a strut and sunglasses doesn’t mean I wasn’t on time.”

Tom finally looked at her, his grin infuriatingly relaxed. “You know, attitude like that will get you in trouble on tour.”

“Is that a threat, Kaulitz?”

He shrugged, lips twitching. “More like a promise.”

Bill clapped his hands together before she could reply. “Alright, let’s go over the second set. Y/N, we’re starting with 'Automatic.' Tom, sync with her on the solo.”

Tom stood, grabbing his guitar. “If she can keep up.”

Y/N’s fingers were already moving. “Try not to fall behind, Rockstar.”

---

They played through the song, and something happened—something electric. Their guitars wove around each other like they’d been built to do it. Every time their eyes met, it felt like a dare.

Tom kept glancing over, just long enough to distract her. He leaned in during a rest beat and said low enough for only her to hear, “You’re almost good enough to impress me.”

Y/N scoffed, not missing a note. “I’m not here to impress you.”

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I’m trying to figure out if your ego has a limit.”

Tom smirked, lips barely moving. “It doesn’t.”

---

After rehearsal, the group split off for a break. Bill invited Y/N to grab coffee, but she shook her head, needing a moment alone to breathe. Or at least that’s what she told herself.

She ended up on the rooftop of the studio building, the city humming beneath her. She had barely pulled out her phone when the door creaked open behind her.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You following me now?” she asked, not turning around.

Tom’s voice was low and lazy. “I was going to smoke. But sure—let’s call it stalking.”

She turned to face him. He had a cigarette between his fingers, but he wasn’t lighting it. Instead, he was looking at her differently than before. Less smug, more curious.

“You’re better than I thought,” he said. “On guitar, I mean.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the tension stretching and thinning like a string pulled too tight. The wind tugged at Y/N’s hair, and Tom’s gaze dropped for a second before meeting her eyes again.

“You’re not like the others,” he said finally.

“Other girls or other guitarists?” she asked.

He smiled, slow and knowing. “Both.”

For a second, something shifted between them—just a flicker. His hand brushed against hers when he moved past her, deliberately close. The heat lingered long after he was gone.

---

That night, Y/N lay in bed, her fingers drumming an invisible rhythm on the sheets. Her mind wasn’t on the songs, or the setlists, or even the fans she’d one day play for.

It was on him.

On the way he looked at her like she was both a challenge and a game. On the way her skin lit up under his gaze. She hated that it thrilled her.

She told herself this was just the beginning.

And she was right.

But she had no idea how far it would go...