The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating up your legs as you stepped deeper into the chaos of the Halloween party. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, laughter, and the faint scent of spilled alcohol. You adjusted the sleeve of your angel costume, the white silk soft against your skin, an ironic contrast to the thoughts running through your head.

"Perfect, isn't it?" Zed smirked beside you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. His devil horns caught the flickering light, making his smirk seem even more devious. "The angel and the devil—kind of symbolic, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't think anyone cares about the sibling costume coordination, Z."

"Yeah, but they care about that." He nodded toward the bar, and you followed his gaze before you even had time to think better of it.

Tom Kaulitz.

Dressed in black from head to toe, he leaned against the counter, a drink in one hand, the other resting lazily on his belt. A pair of jet-black wings hung off his shoulders—ripped, tattered, a fallen angel in every sense. He looked up just then, and your eyes met.

For a second, neither of you moved. The years of rivalry, the heated interviews, the stolen award wins, the fights—God, the fights—all hung in the air between you. Your bands had been at each other's throats since debut, a media-fueled war that neither side had ever been willing to lose.

And yet, standing here, all you could think about was his smirk.

"Well, well," Tom drawled, pushing off the bar as you approached. "An angel at a party like this? I didn't think Thanatos did purity."