Andrea leaned against her locker, pretending to scroll through her phone while watching everything in the reflection of the metal door.
She always watched.
It was easier that way.
Voices overlapped. Laughter. Lockers slamming. Someone shouting across the corridor.
And then—
The shift.
It always happened before she even saw them.
The noise didn't stop… but it changed. Like people were suddenly more aware. Slightly quieter. Slightly sharper.
Andrea didn't look up immediately.
She didn't need to.
"They're here," someone whispered behind her.
Of course they were.
She closed her locker slowly, finally glancing up—
And there they were.
The four of them.
Walking like they owned the place without even trying.
Tom in front. Of course.
Dreads falling over his shoulders, guitar case hanging loosely from his hand like it weighed nothing. He was laughing at something Georg said, head tilted back, completely unbothered by the stares.
Bill walked beside him—different. Sharper. Eyes scanning everything. Catching everything.
Gustav looked like he didn't want to be there. Georg looked like he already knew how this day would end.
Dangerous.
That was the only word that made sense.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
Just… dangerous.
Andrea looked away first.
Always.
"God, they're so—"
"—annoying?"
"—hot."
Her classmates whispered like it mattered.
Andrea shoved her phone into her pocket.
It didn't.
Not to her.
Or at least—that's what she told herself.
The bell rang.
Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone settled in.
Andrea took her usual seat near the window, resting her chin on her hand, half-listening, half somewhere else.
The teacher walked in, papers in hand.
"Alright, everyone, quiet down."
No one actually did.
"Quiet down," she repeated, sharper this time.
Silence.
Almost.
Tom was still talking.
"…I'm telling you, that amp was broken, it wasn't me—"
"Tom," the teacher cut in, already tired. "Enough."
A pause.
Then—
"Yeah, alright," he said, smirking.
Andrea glanced up without meaning to.
And for a second—
He looked straight at her.
Not past her.
Not through her.
At her.
She looked away instantly.
Her heart did something weird.
She ignored it.
"So," the teacher continued, clapping her hands once. "We have an announcement."
Groans.
"I know, I know, but this one you might actually like."
That got attention.
"In three days, we'll be going on a school camping trip."
The room exploded.
"No way—"
"Are you serious?!"
"Do we have to—"
"Yes," the teacher said loudly. "Everyone will attend. No exceptions."
Andrea's stomach tightened.
Camping.
Great.
"Details will be handed out later, but for now—there will be assigned seating on the bus."
Immediate complaints.
"Assigned? Why?"
"So we don't have chaos," the teacher said, pointedly glancing at the back of the room.
Tom raised his hands in mock innocence.
"Me? Never."
A few people laughed.
Andrea didn't.
She already had a bad feeling.
"Now," the teacher said, pulling out a paper, "I've arranged seating to balance things out."
Andrea stopped listening—
Until she heard her name.
"Andrea Johnson…"
Her head snapped up.
"…you'll be seated with—"
A pause.
Too long.
Andrea felt it before she heard it.
"…Tom Kaulitz."
Silence.
Then—
"Oh shit—"
"No way—"
"That's insane—"
Andrea just stared.
No.
No, that was not happening.
She raised her hand immediately.
"Miss, I—"
"It's final," the teacher cut her off. "This is not a discussion."
Andrea clenched her jaw.
"Why?" she asked anyway.
The teacher didn't hesitate.
"Because he needs someone who won't encourage his behavior."
A few snickers.
Tom leaned back in his chair.
"Wow," he muttered. "Love that for me."
Andrea turned slightly, finally looking at him properly.
He was already looking at her.
Again.
This time, he didn't look away.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
"Guess we're stuck together," he said.
Andrea held his gaze for a second longer than she meant to.
Then—
"I guess we are."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Something flickered in his expression.
Interest.
As the class dissolved back into noise, Andrea turned toward the window again.
Outside, the sky was too bright.
Too normal.
Three days.
Just three days.
She didn't know it yet—
But something had already started.
And there was no going back.