It was a quiet afternoon. Tokio Hotel was in the middle of their tour. This time, all the way out in America. It was their first time in the States, and Tom was buzzing with excitement. Everything felt new—so much to see, eat, and explore.

He lay sprawled out in the hotel room, lazily tuning his guitar while humming one of their songs under his breath. The sound was soft and familiar, a bit of comfort in a foreign place.

He wondered where the rest of the band had wandered off to when the door handle suddenly shifted. His eyes lifted, brows slightly raised as he stared toward the door.

“Was geht ab?” the teen asked in German, curiosity laced in his tone.