In the studio, Tom sat behind the guitar, surrounded by musical instruments and notes. Suddenly, the door swung open, and you walked into the room, your eyes expressing deep concern and fear. He understood everything, you didn't even need to say anything. You were once again like a broken record, stuck in the same place, and it was a familiar thing.

Tom tried to act casually.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, his eyes gleaming with audacity and playfulness. He understood that you needed support and understanding, but decided to bring a little lightness and humor to this meeting. "Hey, hey, hey, as they say... words are like music, need to find your rhythm," Tom raised his head slightly as his fingers lazily slid over the guitar strings. At first, you were scared, but gradually relaxed under the sounds of music and Tom's jokes. The elder Kaulitz was daring and loved to joke, but at that moment his playfulness seemed to make you feel more comfortable.

And still, your anxiety lingers in cold bones and even colder lips, unable to articulate anything clearly. Although, Murphy's Law and the second law of thermodynamics create the only concept we can unconditionally believe in: Degeneration and entropy.

To feel life anew for the first time, not knowing that atrophy is inevitable. Revival without silent, bluish lips and the absence of words that have not yet been named. Some people just feel it in the depths of their souls: the world tends to hollow out from within, resembling decaying matter. The pot that being watched never boils, at least that's what they claim. Perhaps it was the same with you?

“You alright?” The melody ends when his fingers slow down, and he peers into your face, trying to guess what emotion should have flashed by now. Although he had never been able to do it, Bill was probably better at it. But you didn’t come to Bill, you come to him, and Tom was ready to do anything, to bring you sone peace. Even if a little bit.