Surrender -Tom kaulitz-

23.

I was frustratedly eating my scrambled eggs, my face looking down at my plate. I haven't said a word ever since we sat at our table in the hotel's restaurant while the boys were conversing.

"Oh my god, Mars. Can you like... stop being moody ?" Gustav groaned and I sent him a hard look. "You look like a depressed cigarette mom."

"Thank you, Gustav. Such kind words for such a great morning." I sarcastically spat, inhaling from my cigarette.

"You shouldn't think too much of the outcome." Tom mumbled. "It's common for famous people to have rumours go around about them. We just need to-"

"Well, I'm not fucking famous, am I ? I don't know why people are focusing so much on me when I was literally cheering like every freaking fan in that damned crowd."

"It's cause Tom wouldn't stop smirking at you." Georg snickered and the guitarist elbowed him harshly. "Ouch-"

"I don't understand why we have to argue about this. During the interview later, just say you're Gustav's teacher or sister, or I don't know..." Bill said as he drank from his juice bottle.

"Whatever." I sighed, standing up and pushing my cigarette butt in the ashtray. "I'll just be in my room and will meet you guys at 11 in front of the hotel."

"No, Mars... we can figure this out-" I ignored Gustav's calls as I walked away from the band members and joined my room.

Somehow, people had found my number and were blowing up my phone with messages and calls. I had to put it on 'airplane mode' but the urge to take a look at the texts was just too much and I ended up reading most of them.

I couldn't believe how people could insult someone that much without even knowing them. Most of the messages were from Tom's fans as they just kept threatening me or insulting me because 'they wished they were in my shoes' which I don't even get.

We weren't kissing or anything. Was the intense eye contact enough for them to just assume things ?

I felt guilty for acting so rude towards the boys who weren't even responsable for all this but I was just getting frustrated with all the hate I was receiving from strangers.

I was sitting down on my bed with my millionth cigarette in hand when a soft knock snatched me out of my thoughts.

I opened the door for Tom and he entered the room silently. "What's up ?" I mumbled, sitting back down.

"Stop acting so moody." He just said.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not the happiest right now, can you blame me ?"

"No, but it's not that deep. We're taking care of it today and you won't even get to enjoy this popularity anymore." He joked.

"I don't feel popular. I feel bullied." I sighed. "I don't even care what these people say, I'm just mad at how unthoughtful their words are."

"You read the texts ?" He furrowed his eyebrows and I looked down.

"Yeah. Whore, slut, man-eater, can't-choose-between-the-twins, piece of shit, opportunist, fake fan... and the list goes on." I flashed a fake smile. "Love me some popularity."

He pursed his lips, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "I'm sorry you're getting this."

"Not your fault..." I blew the smoke out with a sigh.

"You need to clean yourself up though, you're going live on TV." He eyed me up and down, and I cringed when I realised I was in my South Park pyjama pants and a cropped black tank top.

"Okay." I smiled softly, walking towards my suitcase. "What do people wear on TV ?"

"Wear whatever you want. Just not better than Bill, cause he loves the spotlight." He laughed.