call from upstairs

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It started with a knock.

Isadora was mid-rehearsal with Nina and Luca when their manager, Sabine, walked in — clipboard in hand, lips pressed in a straight, terrifying line.

“Stop playing,” she said.

Nina blinked. “Uh… why?”

“Because we need to talk. Now.”

Luca slowly unplugged his bass. “Crap. We’re in trouble.”

Isadora’s stomach dropped.

Sabine closed the door behind her and set the clipboard down like it was a threat.

“I just got a call from your label contact. Apparently, the internet is on fire. There are blurry photos, fan videos, livejournal threads, and someone literally made a MySpace page called 'Tomadora Is Real’.”

Nina coughed to hide her laugh.

Sabine pointed directly at Isadora. “You. Are you seeing Tom Kaulitz?”

There was a beat.

Then: “Yeah. I am.”

Sabine sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Isadora. You can’t just date the most visible guitarist in the country and expect it not to cause noise.”

“It’s my personal life.”

“You don’t have a personal life right now. You’re on the brink of a label promo tour. If this gets messier, it won’t just be fans throwing shade — it’ll be execs questioning your focus. Do you want that?”

Isadora’s face hardened. “So what, I’m not allowed to like someone now?”

“I’m saying keep it quiet, keep it clean, and don’t make it headline news. Understood?”

Luca muttered, “Little late for that…”

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of Berlin…

David, Tokio Hotel’s manager, was pacing like a caffeinated dad in the studio lobby.

“I don’t care how cute she is, Tom,” he said, jabbing his finger toward the air. “This isn’t TRL. This is real-life PR. You’ve got interviews booked, fan club launches, magazine spreads. You can’t be out here playing Romeo.”

Tom leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I like her,” he said.

David stopped pacing. “Okay. Great. But I like record deals, Tom. And if you start looking like a distracted heartthrob who’s not serious about the music—”

“She is music,” Tom cut in.

David blinked.

“I’m not gonna ditch someone I actually care about just to look ‘available’ for a few teen mags. If the fans hate it, they’ll get over it. If the label’s mad… they’ll deal.”

Georg and Gustav were eavesdropping by the vending machine.

Georg whispered, “Damn. He’s all in.”

Gustav just popped a chip in his mouth and nodded.

---

Later that night, Tom sent a message to Isadora:

> sorry
our managers should fight each other in a parking lot

Her reply came quickly:

> mine would win
she has clipboard strength

He laughed.

> u okay?

> yeah
but everything’s changing now isn’t it

> not everything
not us



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