AN: Hallo, everyone!!!!!!! THIS IS TWINSWORDS AND WRITING STUFF THAT ISN'T ANIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! aren't you proud? Anyway, i got the idea for this while laying in bed at twelve o'clock at night, coming off a caffeine high... yeah, we all know how well that works out.... ^__^ anyway, i hope this doesn't fail at life, and that I actually got some of the personalities right... yeah.... ok, i'm done...

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TOKIO HOTEL OR ANYTHING ELSE IN HERE THAT EXISTS IN REAL LIFE!!!!!!!!!

Runaway Love- Chapter One: Landing in America

Tom Kaulitz moved, with dreamlike slowness, through the club with his usual grace and authority. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the one girl that would keep his interest for more than five seconds. He glanced back at the V.I.P. section where two of his fellow band members, his brother and friend Gustav Schaffer were still sitting. Tom smiled, knowing Georg Listing, the final member of their band, was probably off dancing or drinking himself stupid. 'Good thing Gustav's the designated driver,' he thought. The newly-turned twenty-year-old then returned his attention to the crowd of half-naked women and teens before him.

Slowly his smile turned predatory as his eyes studied them. Many young women approached him, asking for a dance or a drink. They bored him; they all did, after a while. He could never find that one special girl. As he bemoaned his single status, a twenty-ish woman with short blonde hair cautiously came closer, asking, as usual, "Hey, my man. You wanna dance with me?" Her hips swayed invitingly as she moved, and Tom almost accepted. But then, he saw her. His Shadow Woman. As usual, she stood towards the back of the dance floor, eyes cast down. She was dressed surprisingly conservatively, with a black tank top and dark orange cargo pants. Her nearly waist-length black hair hid the rest of her features, as he knew it would the rest of the night. However, regardless of her anonymity, he wanted her. Not in any perverted sense though, oddly enough; just to dance with her, talk to her, hold her. He felt his body heat up as crossed the floor, squeezing past sweaty, alcohol-scented couples until he reached her. Even when he stood right in front of her, the girl's eyes stayed glued to the disgusting floor beneath her shoes, a floor Tom spent most of his time not thinking about.

Sensing her timidity, he said, "Hi," as softly as he could, and she still jumped nearly a foot in the air. Her face rose from her feet, but his shadow kept it hidden. Her hair flowed back down around her, framing her face, all of which he could see was the top of her forehead. Luckily, he didn't need to see her to know she was beautiful and perfect.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity before answering in barely more than a whisper, "Hi…" Her eyes slowly began to fall again, her chin dropping just the tiniest bit. Tom's hand flew out before he could stop himself and carefully tipped it back up so she was looking at him again.

"You wanna dance with me?" Inwardly he cringed, realizing he sounded just like the women he so despised. However, all his chagrin disappeared when her hand rose to cover his. He could tell she was smiling; how, he had no idea, but he just knew that she was.

"Sure," she said, her voice like a clear chime in the racket of the club. "I would like to dance."

He lowered his hand from her chin, and hers followed. He felt a goofy smile come over his face, but he didn't care. He led her out onto the dance floor, and, almost as if the DJ knew what he wanted, the song changed to a quiet, slow-dance type. Tom turned back to her, still grinning, and placed his hands on her waist; her hands rose to land on his shoulders. Slowly, they began to spin across the floor, Tom's heart pounding in his chest so hard he thought she could feel it. As the song went on, he began to lose track of everything else in the room, until all he saw was her shadowy face, her long black hair twirling with their movement.

Time spun into infinity as they drifted across the floor, two ghosts lost in their own world. The girl's face slowly fell into his chest, right over his heart; heat blossomed through him, a happy, comfortable feeling. Peaceful. He stopped and put his arms all the way around her, pulling her against him. Her head tucked into the groove beneath his chin, as though they were two puzzle pieces that were made to fit together. He stood there for what felt like hours, and then her arms slid down his until she had reached down to the small of his back, returning his hug. Seconds passed into minutes, minutes into hours, and still they just stood there, sharing this brief time of perfect peace……………………………………………………………………………………

MAY, BEGINNING OF AMERICAN TOUR

Tokio Hotel's plane touched down in Boston International Airport, bumping down hard enough to jostle Tom awake from his dream. With a groan, he turned his head to see his twin, Bill, blinking, apparently still half asleep. Across the aisle, Gustav looked remarkably awake, and was poking Georg to wake him up. Tom let his head fall back against the pillow first class riders got on overnight flights like this one. When he heard Gustav snicker softly, he opened one eye and glared at the older young man. "I don't know how you can be so… ALIVE… this early…" he grumbled in English, since they'd all agreed to only use their mutual second language while in an English-speaking country.. The drummer's grin just widened at his words.

"But it's not early," Gustav answered easily. "In fact, it's almost three in the afternoon."

"Still… jet lag's a bitch."

Bill's groggy voice interrupted. "Be glad we don't have a concert for a couple days…" His voice trailed off as he nearly fell asleep again. Gustav shook his head as Tom's eye closed.

"You two are almost as hopeless as this lazy lump," he stated, nudging Georg again. This time, the bassist's eyes cracked open, and he groaned as Gustav lifted the window shutter. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead, America waits!"

Georg mumbled something that sounded vaguely like, "Gonna kill you…"

However, with the help of the sun and Gustav's pestering, the Tokio Hotel band members were awake and more or less operational by the time the plane stopped at the terminal. Gustav clambered over Georg to get to the aisle where he could reach his carry-on bag in the overhead compartment. Georg again announced that he was going to kill him, and Gustav just grinned. "Ah, but you have to be awake enough to catch me first." He then jumped backwards and fell neatly on his butt as Georg lunged forward and tried to punch him in the face. Tom burst out laughing as Gustav sat there, stunned, and Georg just looked at him stupidly.

"You're getting slow, Listing. I remember when you could've had him unconscious before he could blink," he stated between snickers as he climbed over Bill, who flicked his ear once his feet were on the ground. "OW! What was that for?"

"I did not want to wake up with your shirt smothering me." Bill glared as Tom started laughing again.

Gustav stated helpfully, "I thought you were already awake." Bill's glare moved from the now-purple Tom to Gustav, who looked ready to bolt at the slightest inclination. As well he should; Bill, once angered, held grudges way longer than was necessary.

"Don't forget all those 30 Ways to Annoy Tokio Hotel lists on Google. I can use every single one of them from now until I get bored. Which will be a very long time." Bill had a slightly terrifying grin on his face as he said this, and Gustav visibly gulped.

"I think I'll just get my stuff and…" He rose, yanking his bag down from the overhead rack. "…RUN!" He took off down the aisle, stopped to thank the pilot, and shot out of the plane before any of the others could take two breaths. Tom and Bill exchanged glances and Georg just blinked dumbly. After a couple seconds, they all realized they needed to get moving before their manager lost patience with them.

Tom dug around beneath the seat for a moment until he found the cap he'd been wearing the night before as Bill pulled his and Tom's carry-ons down. Groaning again, Georg rose from his seat, tugged his backpack out from under it, and dug his iPod out from between his and Gustav's seats. After checking to make sure they had all their stuff and Gustav hadn't forgotten anything in his rush to escape Bill- however useless it was; they were going to be stuck on the tour bus together for at least three, possibly four, months- the three young men began a race down the aisle that ended with Tom tripping on the plane's threshold and faceplanting. Bill and Georg fell over him, landing in a three-man dogpile right outside the plane.

Gustav, as it turned out, hadn't left the exit hallway, not even to get away from Bill's wrath. He stood there, staring at the groaning Tom-Bill-Georg pile that had just crash landed at his feet. He burst out laughing as Tom shoved his younger twin and older friend off him before he suffocated. Bill and Georg extracted themselves from the human pretzel they'd formed and rose gracelessly to their feet. As the four of them headed towards the terminal entrance, Bill started running his hands through his hair, causing the other three to laugh. Ignoring them, he muttered, "I so do not want to see a mirror right now…" Indeed, he and Georg looked like somebody had run a broken lawnmower across their heads. Their hair was knotted and static-y; Tom's hair was hidden under his hat and Gustav's, of course, never changed. Georg, realizing what his head must look like, just yanked the hood of his sweatshirt up. Still laughing, Tokio Hotel emerged from the exit hallway into the terminal where their not-so-pleased manager was waiting. He had a name, of course, but since none of the band guys liked him all that much, not one of them had bothered to commit it to memory. Thus his name was The Manager.

"What took you guys so long?" he nearly shouted at them once they were all in front of him. "I've been here for God knows how long, waiting, and you take forever!" Luckily, the man wasn't going to be with them for long; he was returning to Germany after getting their schedule ironed out. However, he was incredibly annoying even at the best of times, and three of the band members had just woken up. Hence, this was not the best of times.

"Not our fault we were all asleep until about five minutes ago," Georg announced.

"I wasn't!"

"You couldn't have been here for forever, and we didn't take that long!" Tom complained at the same time. The Manager went red and looked like he was about to explode when Bill intervened.

"Look, we're here now, so let's just get our stuff and find the hotel. You can yell at us more there, if you still feel the need to." Visibly deflated, The Manager led them to a more private baggage claim and stayed quiet while they retrieved their bags, which was actually rather amusing to watch: Georg ran around the turnstile chasing his bag instead of just waiting for it to come back around; Bill nearly got run over by Georg as he picked up his two giant suitcases; Tom dropped two of his three bags, one of which broke open, spilling his caps all over the floor; Gustav simply waited until the other three's theatrics were over and calmly gathered up his luggage while shaking his head with a tolerantly amused smile on his face.

LATER THAT EVENING: MERRIOT HOTEL

Bill, Tom, Gustav, and Georg sat around the small table in Tom and Bill's hotel room. The Manager sat on Tom's bed, explaining their tour schedule.

"As you already know, your first show isn't for a few days, so you've got some time to catch up on sleep and suchlike. You have two concerts here, an interview in Philadelphia, and then another concert in D.C. After that, you'll head down to southern Virginia for a show and interview." He paused, studying the faces staring at him. Bill was paying close attention, since this was really important to him. Tom's eyes were slightly crossed; The Manager wasn't sure if he was doing that on purpose or just wasn't paying attention. Georg was doodling on a napkin, and Gustav had an expression identical to Bill's. He cleared his throat roughly, startling Tom and Georg back into paying attention. "Anyway, as I was saying, after the Virginia stuff, you guys are headed straight down to Atlanta, Georgia. You remember that discussion we had right before I left? The one about two weeks of no shows or interviews?" All of them leaned forward expectantly, so he knew they remembered. "I couldn't give you two weeks straight, so instead you have four days in Atlanta, four in St. Louis, three in San Francisco, and three in New York. You also have concerts in all four cities, so there's a reason for each one. Between these break times, you have concerts and interviews in several of the cities you were successful in last, plus a handful the polls said your popularity has risen in." He held out the printed schedule to Bill. "Check over that, make sure there aren't any issues."

Bill took the schedule and looked over it, Tom reading it over his shoulder. Georg went back to doodling, and Gustav studied what he was drawing, choking back a laugh when he realized what it was. After a while, Bill passed the schedule on to Gustav, who shared it with Georg. Once they were done, (it took a little loner, due to Georg's short attention span) he handed it back to The Manager, who stuck it back in his briefcase. "Any questions or concerns?" At the four shaking heads, he went on, "I'm heading back tomorrow, and I don't want to hear a peep about bar fights, beaten girls, traffic tickets, or anything of that general sort. If I do, your lives are going to be miserable when you get back to Germany." The band looked sufficiently terrified at the idea of The Manager making their lives miserable. "Good." He stood sharply and headed for the door. "I will see you tomorrow, then, maybe. If not, I expect perfect behavior from all of you," at this, he looked pointedly at Tom and Georg, both of whom were known for their short tempers, "understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Georg chanted, not looking up from the napkin. The Manager glared at him, visibly restrained himself, and marched out of the room with a thundercloud hanging over him. The door snapped shut behind him, and Tom made a show of wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Man, that guy's annoying!" he burst out, shaking invisible sweat off his hand. Georg nodded emphatically. Gustav poked him in the side.

"Show them what you drew," he commanded. When Georg shook his head, Gustav yanked the doodled on napkin and showed it to Bill and Tom. They stared at it, then Bill fell back against his chair, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle hysterical laughter. Tom's head dropped to the table as his body shook with laughter. Georg's doodle was a devil version of The Manager with a huge potbelly, horns, spaded tail, and pitchfork. Georg began to grin as he watched the younger men laugh helplessly.

"I should do this more often! They're both actually quiet!" he gasped sarcastically. Gustav snorted with laughter, Georg following shortly after. The hysterics lasted for a good fifteen minutes before all of them began to calm down. Of course, after all the excitement and God knew how many hours of jet lag, everyone except Gustav was nearly unconscious around the table. Gustav, looking around at his band-mates and friends, decided to drag Georg into the adjoining room so they could all catch up on much-needed sleep.

Tomorrow, and the upcoming beginning of the American Tour, would begin soon enough.

AN: yay, cliffy... sorta... i love writing cliffies.... yeah.... review, yes? if i get.... 5 reviews, i may update sooner!!!!!!! aka, actually sit down and write.... yeah.... ^__^ This is TwinSwords signing off!