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.”
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...
