Tom barely made it back to the green room before his phone buzzed.
Simone (Mom)
3 Missed Calls
Incoming Call: Mom 💥
“Scheiße…” he whispered, stepping out into the hallway and answering.
“Hey—”
“Tom! What were you thinking?!” Simone’s voice exploded. “You promised me you’d keep things low. Tattoos? Pictures online?”
Tom winced, gripping his snapback tighter. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone took a photo.”
“You’re fifteen,” she hissed. “You’re in a band, and you’re supposed to focus. I’m proud of you, but this? This is reckless.”
“I care about her, Mom.”
“I’m not saying you can’t. But you need to be smarter.”
In another wing of the venue, Isadora sat on a padded bench outside the dressing room. Her phone buzzed.
Mom: Incoming Call
“Oi, filha, this photo? Are you serious?”
Isadora leaned her head back. “It wasn’t planned, Mãe.”
“People are talking. This could mess with the band’s image. With yours. Tattoos? At your age?”
“I’m almost sixteen.”
“Not the point.”
Her voice softened. “I just want you to be focused. You love music. Don’t let a boy throw you off.”
“I’m not,” she whispered. “Tom gets it.”
“You better hope he does. And stay out of the headlines.”
Back in the hotel conference room, Tokio Hotel’s manager, David, paced with a Nokia brick in hand.
Phantom Youth’s manager, Rafaela, sipped espresso like it was wine.
“Look,” David said, “they’re teenagers. You remember what that’s like.”
Rafaela raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I also remember consequences.”
They agreed on one thing: the relationship could stay, but it had to be quieter. Way quieter. No more public affection. No more matching tattoos being shown off. No drama.
If things escalated again, they’d be forced to step in.
Later that night, Tom texted her.
Tom:
Meet me on the rooftop?
She didn’t even reply. She just grabbed her hoodie and went.
The rooftop was warm with leftover heat from the day. The LA skyline flickered in neon, and the city noise was muffled, like a distant wave.
Tom sat on the ledge, hoodie pulled low, bag of Skittles in hand.
“Hey,” he said.
Isadora smiled and sat beside him. “Hey.”
For a while, they didn’t talk. Just shared the candy and stared at the stars.
Then Tom looked at her.
“Be my girlfriend.”
She blinked. “I thought I already was.”
“Not officially,” he smirked. “You never said yes.”
She leaned closer. “Yes.”
And when they kissed, it was soft — real. Not for the cameras. Not for the chaos. Just for them.
They pulled away laughing, their foreheads pressed together.
“Skittles and skyline,” she said. “Kinda perfect.”
---
YOU ARE READING
"Strings Between Us
Romance2004. Germany. Tom Kaulitz is used to getting what he wants - the stage, the crowd, the girls. As Tokio Hotel begins to rise, so does his ego... until she shows up. She's the Brazilian guitarist in a rival band - quiet, sharp-tongued, and completely...
