The Cruelest Summer

Chapter 1- Rhode Island

The rain pattered against the bay window of Taylor's Rhode Island home bedroom. The wind was starting to pick up, and a storm was imminent. Taylor was grateful for the crappy weather- it meant that she had an excuse to stay inside and lay low. The sound of the rain also provided a nice distraction from the eerie silence within the house.

She was beginning to rediscover just how lonely her Rhode Island house could be when it was practically empty. It was just her and Tom (and security of course). The couple had flown in from Australia the previous evening with Taylor desperate to escape the paparazzi of the Land Down Under.

***

"I need to get out of the headlines for a bit," she had explained, forcing down tears.

"You still need to live," he had argued. "There's nothing stopping us from going out."

***

Tom's words were harsh, but Taylor reasoned that maybe she needed to hear them. After all, she didn't need #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty disrupting Tom's life as well. He wasn't getting death threats, texts left on 'read' , and dms to kill himself- it was unnecessary for him to put his life on hold to mend his girlfriend's shattered public image.

"You've been looking out that window forever," Tom suddenly said, tearing Taylor away from her thoughts.

"Oh sorry. I didn't hear you come out of the shower," Taylor mumbled. She was feeling guilty about being so reclusive ever since the plane had landed.

"It's okay," Tom reassured her, running a towel through his hair. "You're probably jet-lagged."

Taylor nodded and gave a half-smile. She was jet-lagged, but that was the least of her problems. She was the most hated woman on the planet for God's sake and was currently being crucified by the general public.

"Did you see Adam's tweet?" Tom asked.

"Yeah." She had seen all the tweets.

"He shouldn't have done that," Tom grumbled.

Taylor didn't respond. Did she want to defend herself from Adam?  Yes. 

Did she want to defend herself from Kimye?  Yes. 

Did she want to defend herself from US Weekly?  Yes. 

Did she want to defend herself from her ~former~ fans?  Yes. 

Did she want to defend herself from her friends that just now blocked her number and turned down her invites?  Yes.

She wanted to defend herself, her character, her dignity from anyone and everyone. But it was senseless. Taylor had come to think that maybe she deserved it all. Maybe everything needed to come to an end. Maybe-

"I saw this restaurant online called Ella's Fine Food and Drink that looks good. It has a Michelin chef," Tom suggested, pulling Taylor out of her trance yet again.

"Hmmm?"

"Ella's Fine Food and Drink. Michelin chef. Looks good," Tom repeated with a slightly more irritated tone.

"I don't know. Maybe we just order in? Brandon can pick food up from that place," Taylor replied exasperatedly.

Tom was careful not to raise his voice. "If that's what you really want," he said matter-of-factly. "I just thought that since this is my day off, we could go out and have fun."

It's really fucking hard to go out and have fun when the world's just decided to cancel you.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult, honestly. I think I need space still. I might be up for it in a couple of days though," Taylor sighed. She didn't want to burden Tom.

"You're not difficult. It's just been a rough week," Tom reassured her.

Try a rough few years, Taylor corrected in her head.

Her boyfriend walked closer to the bay window and grabbed a tendril of Taylor's bleached locks. She smiled softly. Tom could be so charming at times. "How about you get dressed up and do your makeup and we throw a dinner party?" he suggested.

Taylor rolled her eyes. How the hell is he not getting the memo? "Tom who the fuck is gonna want to hang out with me. I'm canceled, remember?"

"There were millions of people in this very house two weeks ago for the Fourth of July. They'll party with us," he reasoned.

Taylor shook her head. "Barely any of those people have talked to me since shit's hit the fan. Besides, I don't want to throw a party and give the press something else to talk about." She exhaled loudly and finally removed herself from her self-proclaimed spot at the window. "I'm going to shower. I'm sorry that I'm being moody. You deserve better."

Tom stayed still and silently watched as Taylor shuffled over to the on-suite bathroom.

Once the water came pouring out of the shower head Taylor's tears were finally free to be unleashed. She was hesitant to cry in front of Tom, not wanting to cause drama or make him feel uncomfortable. She wasn't sure when she adopted the "no crying in front of boyfriends" rule, but she strictly abided by it. In fact, the previous July she came to this exact shower to cry as to avoid crying in front of Adam in the kitchen. She would go on to mistakenly cry in front of him the following September and would receive a "save your tears for one of your break-up songs instead" in response.

For Taylor, the shower not only served as an excellent spot to cry: it was a fantastic place to come to a decision. In a flurry of thoughts over the 'Taymerica candids', the dry dinner table conversations, the bleached hair selfies, the anti-climatic fight in Australia, the nine-year age gap, the seas of airport paparazzi, and the Twitter wildfire, Taylor had made up her mind. She was going to break up with Tom. Truthfully, she saw this coming eons ago. Perhaps, the moment he asked her out. She wasn't naive. She knew she and Tom weren't clicking. She knew no one could possibly handle the woes of dating a pop star like her. The paparazzi, the headlines- it was all too much. Even if Tom was nice and charming and liked her, it didn't make up for the fact that the whole world hated her. It didn't make up for the fact that he had failed to see and fall in love with the 'Taylor' behind the shell of Taylor Swift.