you'll go on with the show || kaylor

1. do you ever stop and think about me?

"We've already checked your mail, Ms. Swift; everything is safe for you to read," one of her security guys told her as he stopped the engine.

Ever since she got a couple of threads and triggering letters in the past, she has had her security check her mail first. Being a celebrity was tough and many times people wouldn't even bother to try to treat her as a human being.

"There's a couple of letters addressed to one Dorothea, though. I guess they got the wrong address. Do you want me to throw them away or maybe you want to send them back, letting the sender know they've been writing to the wrong person?"

Taylor's eyes widened. Dorothea. She hadn't heard that name in forever. In fact, she hadn't heard it since her soft voice pronounced those beautiful words. It was quite an old-fashioned name, but the both of them were proud of it, back then.

"No, I'll take them. They might prompt me to write a song, you never know," she grinned.

Proud of her very questionable answer, she grabbed the box full of letters for her and exited her security's car walking to her doorway.

━━━━━━━

Effortlessly sat on her couch in her comfortable black turtleneck sweater, she had those wrong-addressee letters – there was seven of them – and a glass of white wine on her coffee table.

Olivia was keeping her company. Well, she was sleeping at her feet, on the hardwood floor, not much of a company actually. Still, unlike Meredith and Benjamin, who were probably walking around the house, she was keeping the singer warm and at ease.

Taylor took a deep breath and a plentiful sip of wine, which no longer could be called just a sip.

Her hands have caressed the first scarlet envelope for a while, before gently opening it and pulling out a long, tattered letter due to the years it had spent lying unread.

Dear Dorothea,

Do you ever stop and think about me?

Not that you should. I mean, you've got shiny friends since you left town, and I only get to see you on a tiny screen now. So, why should you even stop in the first place, let alone think about me?

I oftentimes think about us, though. Actually, I've been thinking about us all these years.

Do you remember when we were younger? We used to hang out at the park down the street and laugh at ourselves. How miserable of us!

Even so, I had a marvelous time because I had the time of my life fighting their fire-breathing dragons with you.

Anyway, I'm not sure I'm allowed to write to you; maybe it's not safe for you to get letters from me. I'm not even sure you'll ever read them or remember me, though – it's been a while!

I hope you are having a good time; maybe think about me sometimes, and smile at those memories like I do.

Love,

Your very own Juliet.

━━━━━━━

November 2005, sophomore year.

"I'm sorry I'm late!"

The fifteen-year-old, about to turn 16 in a month, rushed in the auditorium. She was worried it was too late for her to audition for the role she wanted.

She had joined the drama club as soon as she got in high school; she really loved literature and found storytelling highly fascinating.

They were casting the students who would play Romeo and Juliet, and she was looking forward to getting a part.