6 STRINGS. [ TOM KAULITZ ]

- 12

✮ ✮ ✮

WHAT WAS THAT?

—

STRUGGLING TO READJUST her uncomfortable heels, she slapped a bandaid on the back of her heel and called it a day.
Walking through the hall she recognized as agonizing yet well paying, she looked for her assigned room.

Counting the numbered plates, #8.. #9..

#10.
An even number, she was feeling lucky.

She pushed open the door, almost immediately wanting to turn right back around.

"Are you serious?" [Y/N] complained, closing the door behind her as she walked in.
The room was cold, the music turned low, and the lights red instead of purple.

Tom looked up from his phone, smiling. "You are actually on time," He said, "Wow."
[Y/N] rolled her eyes, "Why are you here?"

"I have news." Tom smiled, motioning to the space on the couch next to him.
[Y/N] looked at him skeptically, sitting down as he put an arm on the backrest behind her.

He wore a backwards hat over a silk sweatband tied around his hairline, a hoodie under his unzipped jacket, all black as usual.

"So.." [Y/N] said, "What?"
Tom shrugged, "Nothing, how are you?"

[Y/N] glared at him, "I'm fine."
The guitarist held his hands up, pretending to surrender, "Okay.." He replied, "What did I do?"

[Y/N] sighed, leaning into the couch as she crossed her arms.
"You can't keep coming in here, Tom." [Y/N] said, "If you want to talk, I don't know, let's hang out like normal people."
Tom laughed, "You want me to take you out?" He asked.

"I want you to stop coming to the strip club to talk to me." [Y/N] replied, elbowing him before scooting further down the couch to sit in a fetal position.
The room was cold, with all the hard tile and AC blasting. Though it was supposed to be cold so she wouldn't be tired dancing, but it'd been a while since she ever danced in one of these rooms instead of just sitting down and talking.

"I don't see problem," Tom shrugged, "You get paid, and I get to see you like that—"
[Y/N] tilted her head, looking at him with a judging expression.

"What?" Tom said.

"What was the news?" [Y/N] asked, discarding the previous conversation.
Tom pulled out his phone, checking the time. He stalled a bit by humming a low tune. "Any minute now.." He said, [Y/N] looking at him, puzzled.

"What?" She asked, not understanding what he'd just said.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Tom smiled, scooting closer to her to loom over her phone while she checked.
[Y/N] checked her messages, a message from an unknown number.

"What kind of joke is this?" She asked, looking at Tom confusedly as the message loaded.

[Y/N] cleared her throat before reading the message, wondering why Tom went out of his way to plan a joke like this.
"[Y/N] [L/N], we are reaching you as the Tokio Hotel management team to inform you.." [Y/N] looked up at Tom, eyes wide, she looked back and kept reading.
"... With regards to your outstanding application... You have been selected.."

[Y/N] almost choked, coughing into her elbow. "Oh my god." She muttered, looking back at Tom, who was looking at her, waiting for her reaction to process.
She kept reading in silence, turning off her phone when she was done.
"Oh my god!" [Y/N] almost screamed, putting a hand over her mouth as she sat there, jaw dropped and unsure of how to react.

She almost immediately went to hug Tom, wrapping her arms around his neck as she almost started crying.
A permanent and long-term job like that was sure to support her fully, the realization of that she'd be able to quit her nightjob sinking in.
It was all she ever wanted, to quit, finally being able to rid herself of the job that she disliked so much.

Obviously, it wouldn't be an easy process, wanting to undergo the trainee procedure to assure herself being assistant manager for a boyband was something she could at least live with.
However, the possibility alone of being able to leave her horrible job behind made her full of excitement.

Tom laughed at her reaction, wrapping his arms around her waist to return the hug.
The singular ring he wore made contact with her bare back, the cold metal jolting [Y/N] back to reality.
[Y/N]'s arms hung loosely around Tom's neck, her head leaned against his chest as she processed the information in silence.

"Thank you." She finally said, her voice muffled and quiet, barely loud enough for Tom to hear.
He smiled to himself, silent as he let [Y/N] hug him.

—

Sitting down in the corner booth, [Y/N] yawned as she tried to keep awake.
In her defense, it was almost 4 in the morning on a Monday. Though she supposed she wouldn't be able to sleep anyway knowing she was newly employed.

Tom insisted on celebrating, thought she wasn't in the mood to drink, opting for the same burger place they'd visited before.
Again, a few weird glances here and there as [Y/N] covered herself with Tom's jacket.

The guitarist gave her his jacket once again, this time taking his keys out of the jacket's pockets and into his own — not wanting to repeated the last mistake.
It was his turn to order, squinting his eyes and stuttering over menu items as the cashier nodded his head confusedly.

[Y/N] yawned once again, Tom setting their tray on the table before taking a seat next to her.
"Tired?" Tom nudged her lightly, [Y/N] shaking her head as she grabbed her food.

"Thank you," [Y/N] said, "— For the job."
Tom looked at her, scoffing as he took a bite of his cheeseburger, "Why me? You should thank Bill." He said, his voice muffled, "He begged for you."

"He what for me?"

"Beg."

[Y/N] was silent, smiling to herself as she took the first bite. Her order was a plain patty and bacon with veggies burger, absolutely no seeds on the bun.
Tom's however.. He struggled to even fit that monstrous cheeseburger in his mouth, practically every possible burger ingredient stuffed in it, double patty and extra cheese.
His burger was almost twice the size of hers, a toothpick in the middle in an effort to keep it from falling apart.

[Y/N] let herself think about earlier in the silence of which Tom tried to figure out a way to fit his giant burger in his mouth.
She was surprised how comforting Tom's embrace was, slightly scolding herself for thinking badly of him in the first weeks they'd known each other.
Sure, Tom had imprinted the 'playboy' title on himself and it'd stuck with her — Though recent events made her rethink her judgment.

Looking over at him, he was squishing down on his food before finally fitting another bite, shaking his head in disbelief at how good the food was.
[Y/N] laughed lightly, maybe she was wrong about him.