aka… what happens when a simple school project changes your life
warnings ~ reader is implied to be straight and on the chubbier/curvier side (keep in mind this is the 2000s, body standards were a lot different), ED's, body image issues, mental health, etc -- read at your own risk if these bother you!
── .✦ a/n ~ HOLY NUT THIS FIC HAS A LOT OF WORDS... highkey just got carried away and didn't feel like making it two parts...💔 (also I can't even tell if I like this or not unfortunately)
You didn’t think you were pretty.
Sure, you knew you weren’t necessarily ugly, but you weren’t pretty either. It showed, too.
When your friends were getting asked to prom and homecoming, you were left cheering from the sidelines, skipping with the excuse of being sick or something else stupid.
Even more so when it comes to crushes.
When you see a boy that’s cute, you don’t fantasize about what it’d be like to date him. You shut it out, because you know you don’t stand a chance.
Not when the women around you radiate beauty with every breath they take. Not when you hide behind hoodies and high-waisted jeans.
But there’s one person you’ve yet to expel from your mind.
Tom Kaulitz: brooding, mysterious, untouchable. Always – without fail – with a super-model material woman at his side.
He’s managed to plague you since the eighth grade.
…and it just so happens that he’s been assigned to be your research partner in your Science class.
When the teacher called out your name, followed by his, you just about wanted to disappear.
You could already picture the annoyance on his face
He sits down by your side, but you don’t have it in you to say a word. Instead, you get out your laptop, plug in your headphones and get started with your project.
You’re used to doing it all yourself; most people in this class won’t make it very far.
For several minutes, you’re engrossed in your work, fingers typing notes diligently. That is, until a finger taps your shoulder.
“Shit–!” You jump, flinching at the sudden and unfamiliar touch.
“Woah, calm down, princess. Just tryna get your attention is all.” Tom says, his signature smirk painting his lips.
You simply stare at him in confusion.
“You gonna tell me what to do, or are you just gonna do it all yourself?” His tongue pokes out to play with his lip ring.
“Oh, uhm… I-I guess, if you want, you can find out stuff on Lithium’s molecular structure.” You manage to stutter out.
He nods, and almost immediately gets out his own laptop to start his work.
You spend the rest of the class in your own little world, music blasting through your earbuds until the bell rings and you’re set free.
But what you don’t know is the way Tom’s thoughts were occupied by thoughts of you.
You: someone people don’t look at. Someone forgettable. Someone that isn’t spared a second glance just because she isn’t a skinny, blonde supermodel.
However, to him, you’re something else entirely.
Every curve and contour of your body – the dip of your waist and swell of your hips – leaves him mesmerized, despite his best efforts.
He knows he should be thinking of women akin to Megan Fox or Jessica Alba, but he can’t bring himself to at that moment.
Not when a woman like you is right there.
Even as he’s doing his work, he finds himself stealing glances in your direction. Tracing your body, wondering what it looks like beneath the confines of your sweatshirt.
But then class ends, and you’re getting up with hurried steps.
He wants to call out to you. Yell your name, ask for your number, beg you to go on a date with him even though he’s sure there’s plenty of other people who’d kill for a chance with you.
Oh, how blissful it must be to live in ignorance.
That day, at lunch, you’re all he talks about.
“I’m tellin’ you, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen!” He beams, mouth half stuffed full with french fries.
“You’ve been talkin’ an awful lot about this chick. What’s her name?” Gustav replies, stealing some fries from Bill's plate.
“Like I’d tell you! You’ll just ask her out first and steal my woman!”
“She isn’t yours, Tom.” Bill smirks.
“Not yet! Gimme two weeks, and she’ll be at my side 24/7!” Tom’s practically already picturing your wedding.
“Yeah, sure, buddy…” Gustav scoffs.
Meanwhile, at your table, you’re about to have a mental breakdown.
“I swear, I could feel his eyes judging me!” You lament.
Your friends know the way you struggle; the way you feel about your body and the way you think others perceive you. It hurts them, but not nearly as much as it does you.
“Maybe he wasn’t? I mean, he’s a pretty chill dude…” Your friend suggests.
“No, I know when people are judging me. I can always feel it.” You retort.
This time around, it all feels worse.
Because this time, it’s Tom.
The guy you’ve had a crush on since you were 13.
He is the one sending you judgemental glares.
He is the one you’re being forced to be around.
You don’t eat dinner that night.
The following day, you find yourself dreading your science class.
Tom will be there. He’ll judge you. He’ll complain about you to his friends and ensure that nobody ever even thinks of dating you.
But what really goes down ends up shattering your entire reality.
You sit down in your spot, listen to the teacher spew nonsense for five minutes, and then get to work. You expect Tom to work at his own seat, but instead he comes to your side.
Despite yourself, your heart is racing.
You continue on as if it’s nothing.
Ten minutes later, he speaks up.
“Hey, uh, are you free over the weekend?” His tone is oddly hesitant.
“Uhm… yeah… why?” You murmur. Your hands tremble over your keyboard.
“I just, uh, wanted to see if you wanted to work on the project. We could get a higher grade if we turn it in quicker.” God, my excuse is so stupid, Tom thinks to himself.
But you? You’re stunned; convinced he’s only doing this for the sake of humiliating you and making everyone around you wish you were dead.
“Oh. Uh…” You truly don’t know what to say.
Tom, however – ever the opportunist – takes his chance.
“We can just hang out at my place. Y’know, work on the project, order a pizza…” He suggests with an unfamiliarly sheepish grin.
All you can do is stare at him like a total idiot.
“Oh! Uhm… uh, yeah, I-I guess so. Might as well be productive.” You reply.
“Great! Here’s my MySpace, you can just message me and I’ll send you all the details.” He seems rather excited about this, as he slips you a piece of paper with his information scribbled on it.
God, what have you gotten yourself into?
Saturday rolls around, and you’re on the brink of a panic attack.
Why had you ever agreed to this? Couldn’t you have just lied and said you were busy?
Now, you have to find an outfit that’s not only stylish, but isn’t too tight and doesn’t show too much. Now, you have to worry about what he’ll think of you. Now, you wish you’d never even been born.
Your throat closes up at the thought.
With trembling hands, you grab your keys and walk out to your car.
The drive is hell. You find yourself wondering if this is just some ploy to humiliate you.
When you arrive at his house, you wish you could turn back.
You take a deep breath, will yourself to quit shaking and walk up to the front door.
After a good five minute long pep talk, you ring the doorbell.
The moment Tom hears the sound of the doorbell, he races down to answer it like a dog races towards a ball.
“Hey, you actually came!” He exclaims with a grin when he pulls open the door.
God, you’re beautiful; your jeans, your t-shirt, your hair, your eyes, your everything… it all leaves him captivated.
“Uh, yeah? W–Why wouldn’t I come?” You stutter, faking a small smile.
Tom laughs at your comment. He clearly doesn’t see how nervous you are.
“Come on in, we can start working right away.” He opens the door wider, inviting you inside his home.
It’s actually quite nice; clearly lived in, but in that homey, nostalgic kind of way. You like it.
He leads you into the kitchen, where there’s some snacks already laid out on the dining room table, beside his laptop.
“We can watch a movie while we work. Or listen to music. You can pick. I don’t mind.” He seems to like rambling an awful lot, you think to yourself.
“Oh, uh, alright.” You smile nervously, sitting down and getting out your own laptop.
The two of you get started quickly, and oddly enough, you end up chatting quite a bit. Somehow, he’s easy to talk to.
He asks about your interests – what music you listen to, what movies you watch – and seems to listen with genuine intent.
You learn about him and his brother’s band, about how he’s into skateboarding and rap music.
Honestly, he’s a bit of a dork.
But nothing could’ve prepared you for what he’d try and pull later into the night.
A comfortable silence had fallen upon the two of you after a particularly deep conversation. He’d just told you about his parent’s divorce, vulnerability lacing his soft tone, and in return you told about your father's passing. It wasn’t in any way awkward, more so calm. Sweet. Stable.
Tom glances up at you with nervous eyes. You pretend not to notice.
That is, until he grabs your chin in his hand.
He tilts your head towards him, your face suddenly too close to his. You can feel his breath on your lips.
With your name on his breath, he leans in. His lips inch closer to your own.
He draws back. Confusion marrs his features in an instant.
You stare back at him, eyes wide and full of fear.
Your eyes flicker around, trying to find some excuse to leave.
“I-It’s getting late, I b-better go–” You begin collecting your things frantically. Shoving your laptop into your bag, you move to stand up.
“Wait– what? No, don’t– what!?” Tom can’t help but be confused out of his mind. Why are you leaving? Why do you look so scared? Did he misread your signals?
Truly, you can’t help but fall for him. He’s kind and smart and caring and selfless and all these other wonderful things. But it just wont work.
You’re you, and he’s him.
You rush to leave his house, steps hurried and loud.
“Where are you going?!” Tom calls out, jumping up to race after you.
Why does he have to be like this – so stubborn, so pushy?
His hand suddenly grips your wrist, his touch making you pause.
“What happened? Why are you leaving?”
You can’t even bring yourself to look at him.
Not when you’re on the brink of tears and he’s so desperately trying to pry answers out of you.
“Did I misunderstand you? Do you have a boyfriend, is that it?! God, I should’ve known, ‘course you’d have one–”
“You seriously think I would have a boyfriend?” You suddenly interject.
When he looks at your face – teary eyes and all – his heart drops.
“W-What are you talking about–?”
“Are you being serious? You genuinely believe someone like me would have a boyfriend?” Your voice raises on instinct.
You can hardly stop the words from leaving your mouth, words you’ve kept inside so long – too long – to the point where you can’t keep yourself from letting them spill.
Tom simply stares at you.
“Who in their right mind would think someone like me would ever manage to get herself a boyfriend?” An exasperated laugh escapes you.
“What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’d be unsurprising if you had a boyfriend, you’re–” He tries butting in, tries getting you to listen.
“I’m what? Because I sure as hell know what I’m not! I-I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty, I’m not anyone’s first pick, I’ve never been asked to a dance, I’m–” You stutter, tears clouding your vision.
“Are you listening to yourself?! Not pretty?! If you’re not pretty, then I might as well be the goddamn Queen of England!You sound insane!” He retorts, gesturing wildly at your body.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” He adds; softer, sweeter.
Feel a tear roll down your cheek.
You run to your car, put in your keys and drive off all within three minutes.
Rain pelts your skin as you run inside your house.
Your shoes are tossed haphazardly to the side, their placement insignificant to the storm currently swirling inside your head.
He had to have been lying.
There’s no way somebody like him thinks you’re pretty. Not when other girls ten times more attractive would probably pay him for a single date.
The moment you enter your bedroom, you sink to the floor. Tears stream down your cheeks as sobs escape your lips.
How stupid could you be, thinking he’d just wanted to work on your project.
Look at where that’s brought you.
Suddenly, your cries are interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing. You know it’s Tom. You don’t even move.
And again, and again, and again, and again. To the point where you can’t take it. You rise to your feet – cheeks wet and makeup smeared – filled with a familiar sense of frustration.
You pad downstairs with light steps, your sock-clad feet silent against the wood floors of your home. When you finally stand before your front door, panic creeps into your mind.
What if he’s here with his friends? What if he’s just planning on making fun of you? What if he–
You open the door before your thoughts can get any worse.
And just as you knew, Tom is standing there, clothes soaked from the rain and panting.
You stare at him with furrowed brows and a trembling lip.
He stares right back. But he doesn’t say a word.
Instead, he does what he does best: surprise you.
His hands reach for your jaw, cradling it with utmost care as he angles it upwards.
You have no time to protest before his mouth is on yours.
His lips are wet and cold, but his kisses are the complete opposite.
He kisses you like a man starved – like it’s the last time and not the first.
It sets your head spinning.
A hand of yours finds his jaw, and you feel him groan against your mouth. He kisses you harder. With more fervor, more desperation.
When you pull back, his pupils are blown wide and you’re both panting.
“I’m not even gonna act like I have some big speech prepared. I don’t need one, not when it’s easier to tell you how I feel with actions rather than words.” His voice is low, soft, for you and only you to hear. You can feel his labored breaths against your lips.
“God, you’re beautiful… what’ll it take for you to see that for yourself?” He’s speaking more to himself than you. And as much as you’d like to reply, he doesn’t give you the chance.
His lips are suddenly back on yours, and you find yourself melting into his embrace immediately. Your arms encircle his neck as his grasps your hips, your bodies pressing up against one another as he devours your lips with his own.
The longer the two of you stand there in the rain, exchanging kisses like it’s your last day on Earth, the more you feel the weight on your shoulders lifting.
You know your insecurities will never fully go away. It’s just a part of life. But for now, while you’re wrapped up in the arms of the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever met, you can’t help but feel like things will get better.
[ 🏷️ : none currently! send a dm or ask to be added <3 ]
