2004. 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...
The van dropped them off in the early hours of the morning, the Berlin sky still soft and blue-gray, like a dream refusing to end.
Tom held Isadora’s hand a little tighter as they slipped inside the back of the studio complex.
It was supposed to be quiet. But the second they stepped through the hallway —
> “You two have fun?” Georg teased with a smirk, sipping his coffee like a villain.
> “Best two days of my life,” Tom smirked right back.
> “He’s glowing,” Bill added, flipping his hair. “They did more than hang out.”
> “Shut up, Bill,” Tom muttered, cheeks flushing red.
Isadora just laughed and bumped her shoulder into Tom’s, like a silent don’t worry about it.
---
But by mid-afternoon, the group chat exploded.
📱 Nina [2:47PM]:
> Guys… look what just popped up on a fan page.
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📸 IMAGE ATTACHMENT A blurry photo, grainy — but unmistakable. Tom and Isadora. Standing at the back of the cottage. He's in a blanket, she’s in her denim jacket, laughing as she pushes his hair out of his face.
📱 Bill [2:49PM]:
> HOW??
📱 Nina [2:50PM]:
> Zoom in — far shot. Long lens. Someone must’ve followed the van.
📱 Isadora [2:52PM]:
> My mom’s gonna flip.
Managers pulled them into a soundproof room. Stern faces. No yelling — just serious.
> “This is what we didn’t want,” Isadora’s manager sighed. “You two have been careful. But not careful enough.”
> “We were in the middle of nowhere,” Tom protested.
> “Which doesn’t stop people who get paid for this,” his manager added. “You two are under a microscope now. So here's what we’re doing—”
They laid it out clearly:
No more shared rooms on tour.
Keep PDA behind locked doors.
Studio sessions must be with a chaperone from now on.
Absolutely no sneaking off without alerting someone.
> “We still support you,” her manager said. “But we need you to stay focused and discreet.”
Isadora nodded, but her face was tight. Tired. Over it.
Tom just ran a hand through his braids and muttered, “Copy that.”
---
Later that night, Tom climbed up to the rooftop again — the same spot he asked her to be his girlfriend.
Isadora met him there, hoodie pulled tight, Doc Martens splashing in rooftop puddles.
> “We’re being told to hide again,” she whispered.
> “I know,” he said. “But hiding doesn’t mean we’re gone.”
> “Just feels like we keep getting pushed into corners.”
> “Then let’s make that corner ours.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and rested his forehead against hers.
> “They can’t take this from us. Not unless we let them.”
