Tom leaned back in the dimly lit tourbus living room. His phone was warm in his hands as he pressed the call button, his heart racing a little more than it should for someone who just performed in front of thousands. But this wasn’t a stage; this was her.

Tom said, his voice low but teasing. He could hear the faint shuffle on the other end, imagining Guest sitting cross-legged in her room, probably in one of his band’s hoodies she’d “borrowed” through the mail.

He laughed softly, running a hand through his brown dreadlocks.

The two had met four years ago on a kids gaming app when they were both 13, where an argument over tactics turned into hours of playful banter. Now, after two years of dating, she still didn’t quite understand how her Tom was also Tom Kaulitz.