Tom didn’t wait for an invitation. The second Y/N stepped aside, he walked into her hotel room like he was chasing something—like he’d been running from it and finally decided to give in.
“Tom—” she started, but he turned to her too fast, too desperate.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “The ignoring. The pretending. You. That night—it wasn’t just sex.”
Her heart beat so loud it blurred her hearing. “Then why did you treat it like it was?”
“Because it scared the shit out of me,” he snapped. “You scare the shit out of me.”
She flinched. But before she could speak, he closed the space between them, his voice softer now.
“You’re not just some girl on tour. You’re not a fling. I haven’t been able to sleep without thinking about you.” His eyes flickered down to her lips. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Tom…”
“I don’t want anyone else touching you,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I don’t want you looking at anyone else like you looked at him.”
“You don’t get to control that.”
“I know,” he said. “But I can’t help it.”
There was a moment of silence.
Then she asked, voice barely audible, “What do you want from me?”
His lips hovered a breath above hers. “Everything.”
And this time, when they kissed—it wasn’t rushed.
It was slow. Deep. Painful in how badly they needed it.
---
He walked her backward until her knees hit the bed, and she let herself fall, dragging him with her. Clothes came off with purpose, not haste—his hoodie, her shirt, her jeans, his chains. He kissed every inch of her like he was memorizing it, like she’d disappear if he didn’t.
“You’re beautiful,” he muttered against her neck. “Fucking unreal.”
She gasped when his hands slid down her hips, mouth trailing heat down her stomach.
When he finally entered her, it was overwhelming—every inch, every moan, every breath. His forehead rested against hers, their bodies moving in sync, like this had been building since the moment she auditioned.
It wasn’t just pleasure—it was punishment.
For denying it.
For pretending.
For trying to stay away.
---
Later, tangled in sheets, both of them breathless and wrecked, Tom spoke first.
“This changes everything,” he said.
She looked at him. “Yeah.”
His brows furrowed. “You okay?”
Y/N nodded, but something in her expression shifted. “You can’t disappear after this, Tom. I need you to mean it this time.”
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I do.”
But part of her wasn’t sure if she believed it.
---
The next morning, the headlines were worse.
“Tom Kaulitz Spotted Leaving Guitarist’s Room Late Night”
“Tokio Hotel’s Internal Romance Confirmed?”
The band’s manager called. Label reps started poking around. Fans were dissecting every look, every onstage interaction. Rumors were spiraling.
“You knew this would happen,” Georg warned Tom.
“We told you to be careful,” Bill added.
Tom didn’t answer.
But Y/N could see it in his eyes—he was starting to shut down again.
Not because he didn’t want her.
But because he didn’t know how to fight for her and keep the band together.
---
At soundcheck, he barely looked at her. On stage, he didn’t stand close. Off stage, he drowned in interviews, cameras, and distraction.
And Y/N?
She stood on the edge again. Watching him build that wall. Wondering if loving him would always mean losing parts of herself.
Because now they weren’t just crashing into each other.
They were starting to crash everything else, too..
YOU ARE READING
"Strings Between Us"
FanfictionIn a whirlwind of music, fame, and forbidden desire, Y/N gets caught in a slow-burn romance that threatens to tear everything apart. As passion turns into something deeper, and the spotlight grows hotter, the real question isn't just will they last ...
