the 1 | chaennie

24. Sad Beautiful Tragic

In dreams, I meet you in warm conversation
We both wake in lonely beds, different cities
And time is taking its sweet time erasing you And you've got your demons
And darling, they all look like me

'Cause we had a beautiful magic love there
What a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair

Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting
Silence, the train runs off its tracks
Kiss me, try to fix it, could you just try to listen?
Hang up, give up, and for the life of us we can't get back

-

"That song was about remembering all the things we'd done together, those small moments that stuck out. It's not until you lose someone that you think about how much you miss dancing in the kitchen with them at midnight, or making their coffee for them just how they like it. And I thought it'd get easier with time ... but it didn't."

"How did you manage it? I mean, as you said, the Grammy's were coming up and you that's one of the biggest events of the year, and you were nominated, performing. Obviously, you showed up. But what was that like for you? To be going through so much in your personal life and having to hide it."

Blowing the air out of her lungs, Rosie shrugged helplessly as she shook her head, unable to articulate it.

"I don't know," she softly said, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes curling one side of her mouth, "I just- I knew I didn't have a choice. It was ... hard. Breakups are always hard. And being in the spotlight with such a big secret ... well, it was- I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't just put my career on hold to curl up in bed as I'd already spent a month doing. They don't care about things like that; they only care that you show up to your scheduled events and cash-in on whatever project you've agreed to for even an ounce of publicity."

"I imagine it made you resent your life, just a little," Nayeon hedged.

With a laugh, Rosie looked up towards the ceiling as she rubbed at her forehead, wishing she'd taken the Diazepam when it had been offered to her. She was starting to get a headache and was so keyed up with tension as she dwelled in painful memories that she could feel it taking its toll on her.

"Just a little," she murmured in amusement, "or perhaps just the circumstances of my life. If I'd been anyone else, if she'd been anyone else, we would've been in a very different position. And I can't say that we would've been better off, because I don't know what struggles we would've had then, but I know that this wouldn't have been one of them. We wouldn't have had to hide from the whole world. "

-

Day in and day out for the next two weeks, Rosie rehearsed. She spent countless hours going through the limited choreography of Mean , the song she'd chosen as a sly dig at a critic who'd slammed her before, catching up with her band and finding some sense of comfort with them. She'd toured with most of them since the Fearless tour, and they'd been like her family in the earlier years of her career, splitting up and coming back together every era for the next tour or performance.

In a way, Rosie was glad that they were there because it gave her an excuse to be distracted by other people. She realized how much she'd been isolating herself, even back in London, and it struck her as a good idea to perhaps call some of her friends who were in town. Perhaps surrounding herself with the company of other people would help her forget about Jennie, just for a few hours here and there.

But for the time being, she rehearsed and trained. Rosie hadn't even finished her album yet, but it was clear that she'd be touring for it, which meant that she spent hours on the treadmill every day, when she wasn't practicing her performance, trying to maintain her fitness levels to be able to parade up and down a stage for a couple of hours. It gave her an outlet for her emotions, feet pounding on the machine as she ran until she couldn't think until she felt like she was going to drop. And still, she didn't sleep and barely ate.