Early March 2006 – Berlin, Germany – Band Apartment
The apartment was filled with warm light and casual chatter. Phantom Youth and Tokio Hotel were gathered together for dinner — pasta, garlic bread, and plenty of soda and sparkling water. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like home.
Isadora sat beside Tom on the floor, her legs stretched out and her head resting on his shoulder. The bump was more visible now, and no one even tried hiding their excitement anymore. They were past pretending this wasn’t one of the most special moments of their lives.
Bill stood in front of the small crowd, clearing his throat dramatically.
“Okay, okay—shut up, all of you,” he grinned. “I’ve got something to say. And no, it’s not a speech.”
Gustav whistled. “About time.”
Tom snorted. “Let him be dramatic. He’s the prettier twin.”
Bill rolled his eyes and pulled something from behind his back — a small, matte black box tied with red ribbon. “This is for you two,” he said, looking at Tom and Isadora. “From me. Well, from all of us.”
Tom took the box, untied the ribbon, and opened it slowly. Inside was a small handheld camcorder — simple, silver, and classic 2000s. There was a sticker on it with a doodle of two little stars.
Isadora raised her brows. “A camera?”
“Not just any camera,” Bill said, sitting down in front of them. “This has been running quietly during rehearsals, offstage moments, stupid inside jokes, bad hair days, late-night snack runs…”
Tom looked up in disbelief. “You’ve been filming us?”
“For months,” Bill said. “Nothing staged. Just life. You two. Real stuff. I started doing it around the time y’all made it official.”
Isadora gasped, tears threatening to rise. “Why?”
“Because,” Bill said with a shrug, suddenly more serious, “someday, your kids are gonna want to see where they came from. And when you forget the small stuff — the laughs, the tears, the way Tom looks at you when you’re not paying attention — this’ll remind you.”
Tom blinked, completely still.
Isadora reached for the camera like it was made of glass. “Bill…”
“There’s more,” Bill smiled.
He turned to Georg and nodded. Georg walked to the speaker and plugged in his phone.
A soft piano started playing.
Then Bill’s voice poured through the room — vulnerable, haunting, beautiful.
> “Between two hearts, a fire grew,
We watched the world but only saw you.
A million lights, but your eyes were home,
Even in silence, we were never alone.”_
Tom’s eyes welled with tears. Isadora pressed her hands to her mouth.
> “Now time is moving, but love still stays,
In every heartbeat, in every phrase.
Two stars above, two dreams to hold,
This is your story, a love never told.”
The room was dead silent when the last note faded.
No one said anything for a moment.
Then Isadora leaned forward, wrapped her arms around Bill, and whispered, “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means.”
Tom followed, pulling both of them into a tight hug, his voice rough: “I love you, bro.”
Later That Night
The camcorder sat on their bedside table, already recording clips of them laughing and lying in bed under a shared blanket.
Tom aimed the lens toward Isadora, who stuck her tongue out playfully.
“Say something for our sons,” he said.
She grinned. “You’ve already got the coolest dad. And the hottest mom. Don’t argue.”
They both laughed, and the camera kept rolling.
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...
