Glitch - Jaylor One Shots

no deal!

no deal! (that 1950's shit they want from me)

tw: abortion

The first thing Taylor feels is pure shock, but the self-hatred quickly pounds into her in waves. This isn't happening. Not right now. She sinks to the floor, doesn't trust that her shaky legs will be able to hold her up. The piece of plastic clatters down next to her and she makes no attempts to pick it up. Her lip pulls firmly between her teeth and her hand instinctively goes to twirl her hair–a self-soothing technique she's carried since childhood. A glimpse of the pink dip-dyed ends catches in her periphery and her breath catches in her throat. I have fucking pink hair. I can't be a mom.

She cries then–more from panic than from sadness–and lets the pattern of the floor tiles imprint onto her knees. Part of her almost wants to pray, but the other part of her knows that her helpline to god is saved for moms dying and she doesn't want to waste it on something as insignificant as an unplanned pregnancy. Then her mind turns to images of protesters outside Planned Parenthoods and the millions who have spewed vitriol for women just like her in her god's name–faith has never been uncomplicated for her. So god is out for now.

Her next instinct is to call Joe, because that's what she does when she's feeling low, but then she realizes this isn't a conversation to have when he's thousands of miles away over the phone. Part of her doesn't want to tell anyone and just cocoon herself in denial, but that's not an option here. Not with this ticking time bomb. A few years ago, she would've called Mom, but now she hesitates. Mom's...okay most of the time. Not worse, which is good. But her brain is foggy in a way that it never was before, and there's a shift in their dynamic that's happened–the kind that does when you have to start taking care of your parent. Taylor doesn't want to worry her about this if she doesn't have to. At least, not yet.

She calls Blake.

"Hey, what's up!" she answers cheerfully.

"I..." she hasn't heard herself speak in a minute and for some reason her voice sounds foreign. "I kind of need some advice, if that's cool."

Blake's voice turns more serious. "Yeah, hold on." There's some rustling in the background and the sound of a door shutting. "Okay, I'm here. What's up?"

"I'm pregnant." The words slip out of her unconsciously. The beast in her chest churns and roars at hearing it said so outright.

"Oh my god! Okay! Is this a...congratulations or..."

"I don't know," she manages to say. She feels shaky, like she's on the verge of passing out even though she has eaten breakfast today–oh god, I barely have a handle on my eating disorder, I can't be a fucking mother. "I'm scared."

"That's okay. That's normal. Does Joe know? He's the...it's his, right?" The knot in her chest eases a little as Blake circumvents the word. They're not parents yet. She's not a mother, she's just a girl crying in her bathroom.

"No, he doesn't know. I just found out right now."

"Oh, honey," her voice is a hug crackling through the phone. "It's all going to be okay, I promise."

"I don't think I want it. I don't think I can do this right now."

"That's totally okay. I know it feels really overwhelming, but it doesn't have to be. I'm here for whatever you need. Are you alone?"

She sighs. "Yeah."

"Do you want to come over? Or, if you can't deal with the kids right now, I can come over. Ryan's home today."

Taylor takes stock of the situation around her. Her lip is red and swollen from biting it and there are four angry indentations on her thigh from her fingernails. She needs to stop taking things out on her body when she's hurting. "Can I come over there?"