flannel pact

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It started on accident.

Tom showed up to soundcheck in an oversized red-and-black flannel, sleeves rolled, half buttoned over a band tee. Classic.

Isadora noticed immediately — because she was already wearing her green plaid one tied around her waist.

They locked eyes across the studio.

Smirk.

No words.

Later, behind the amps, Tom leaned in.

> “So what, we’re matching now?”

> “Guess we’re starting a thing,” she said, flicking the edge of his sleeve.

> “What if we make it a code?” he said, eyes glinting. “When we wear flannel, it means we’re good. Like, still us. No matter the press. No matter the leaks.”

> “Flannel pact?”

> “Flannel pact.”

And just like that, they had their secret.

Over the next few weeks, fans started noticing.

Every time a new photo of them dropped — leaving rehearsal, loading gear, even random candids — one or both of them had flannel on.

Different patterns, different colors.

But it kept happening.

> “Do you think they know?” Isadora asked one night.

> “They have no idea,” Tom smirked, “but they’re guessing. Which makes it better.”

> “You love the chaos.”

> “I love you in flannel.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed.

---

It was Nina who cracked it first.

She pulled up a blog post at the breakfast table, snorting.

> “Conspiracy theory of the week: ‘Tom Kaulitz and Isadora Almeida are communicating through flannel.’”

Isadora almost choked on her orange juice.

> “They think it’s like Morse code,” Nina cackled. “‘Green plaid means distress, red means longing.’”

Tom walked by, already dressed in dark purple flannel.

> “What’s purple mean?” Nina teased.

> “That we don’t care anymore,” Tom tossed back without missing a beat.

That night, curled up in Tom’s room after another long day of noise, they stared at the ceiling.

Neither of them said much — just the soft hum of a portable CD player spinning in the background, Tokio Hotel's demo playing quietly.

> “We’re still good, right?” she asked.

> “Always,” he said.

He reached over and held up their wrists — the twin star tattoos still faint but healing.

Then he tugged a flannel shirt from his chair and laid it across her.

> “Now we’re really safe.”

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