"Strings Between Us"

Ch.3-"Backstage Boundaries"

The tour kicked off with chaos.

Early mornings blurred into soundchecks, flights, and late-night gigs. Every venue was a new city, every dressing room a different shade of organized mess. Y/N was thrown into the deep end, but she swam through it like she’d been born for the stage.

The fans were louder than she expected—cheering not just for the band, but eventually, for her too. Some held signs with her name, some asked for autographs outside hotels. Others didn’t like her at all.

She’s ruining the dynamic.
She’s trying to steal the spotlight from Tom.
Just another groupie with a guitar.

She read them all. Pretended they didn’t sting. Tom didn’t bring it up—but she knew he saw it too.

---

One night, backstage in Barcelona, Y/N was tuning her guitar when Tom appeared beside her. The dressing room buzzed with crew and stylists, but somehow, he made the air feel still.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said casually, nodding toward her phone.

“Didn’t say I was.”

He leaned a little closer. “You didn’t have to.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted—not with nerves, but with something warmer, heavier. “You get hate all the time. Doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“I’m used to being the asshole,” he said with a grin. “You’re the new one. Makes you easier to blame.”

She exhaled, setting her guitar down gently. “You’re really great at pep talks.”

Tom looked at her for a long moment, then stepped forward and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. The touch was soft. Too soft.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Y/N. You already did.”

Her heart stopped for a beat. Then someone shouted, “Five minutes!”

Tom stepped back, like nothing had just happened. “Show time.”

And just like that, he was gone.

---

After the show, the hotel was buzzing with energy. The afterparty took over the rooftop bar, but Y/N stayed behind in her room, sprawled across the bed in a t-shirt and shorts, scrolling through photos from the night.

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened the door, expecting room service—or maybe Bill with a bottle of wine.

But it was Tom.

He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, dressed down in black sweatpants and a hoodie.

“You’re not at the party,” he said.

“Neither are you.”

He raised a brow. “Touché.”

A moment passed, heavy and strange. Y/N didn’t move to close the door, and Tom didn’t move to walk away.

Then he looked past her into the room. “Can I come in?”

She hesitated, just a beat too long. “Are you always this confident?”

“Only when I’m right.”

Y/N stepped aside.

---

The room was dimly lit, the hum of the city below barely reaching the windows. Tom made himself at home on the couch, stretching out, while Y/N perched on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say—or why he was even there.

He broke the silence. “What made you try out for the band?”

She blinked at him. “That’s the question you came here to ask?”

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

She looked down at her hands. “I grew up listening to you guys. Your music… kind of kept me alive, honestly. I didn’t think I’d actually make it. I just wanted to try.”

Tom watched her quietly, the smirk gone now.

“You don’t talk about that much,” he said.

“No one asks.”

Another pause. He stood and walked toward her, slow, thoughtful. Her breath caught in her throat.

He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. Close enough that their legs touched.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met on tour before,” he said softly. “You see through everything.”

She turned to look at him. His eyes weren’t mocking. Not guarded.

Just real.

And for once, she didn’t say anything. She just let the silence speak.

Tom leaned in—just slightly. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just enough to let her feel the pull. Enough to tempt her to close the space.

But he didn’t move closer. Instead, he whispered, “Goodnight,” and stood.

Y/N blinked. “That’s it?”

Tom turned at the door, his grin returning. “What, you were expecting more?”

She stared at him. “You’re exhausting.”

He chuckled. “You like it.”

And then he was gone.

---

Y/N lay back on the bed, heart pounding harder than it had all night on stage.

There were boundaries. She knew that.

But Tom Kaulitz didn’t care much for rules.

And neither, it seemed, did her heart..