Love Story (Taylor Swift x fem!OC)

Chapter 37

A/N: Okay, so the lesson to be learned is that the reads then chapter system only works if you actually check the book regularly. If you don't, then you're like me: you forget what your benchmark goal was and forget to check the book, and next thing you know you're 2k over what you said you needed to be at to publish and now you feel like a jerk because you've made empty promises. Anyway, so here's Chapter 37. Sorry about the false promises -- I think I've learned my lesson (*cue Foolish One playing*)    :)

***********

So turns out it's a little harder than Taylor had thought to try to perform while a stream of self-hate is flowing through your brain. She. Couldn't. Focus. It was. Ridiculous.

The entire night, all she could see was a pair of violet eyes looking at her sadly as she said the four words she never thought would be the words she'd regret the most: You need to leave.

Why, why, why did she say that? If God was paying attention to her, why didn't He stop her from saying it, and just go, "Y'know, Taylor. Not really the smartest idea. Shut up before you screw up the one good thing you have going for you now." It got so bad she messed up a lot of the choreography, nearly forgot entire sections of songs, and lost her train of thought in the middle of most of her speeches. She also almost fell off of the rising platforms several times and missed her cue for diving under the stage.

Long story short, it was a hot mess.

The moment the very chaotic show was over, Taylor ran backstage, nearly in tears. She felt so bad. After all, so many people had paid good money to see this. She tried as hard as she could to keep her train of thought on the people screaming the lyrics for her or just... screaming, but she just couldn't. All the mistakes she'd made wouldn't stop going through her brain, replaying the moment she'd said those four god-awful words.

She knew she was probably blowing it out of proportion, but she couldn't help it. Turns out that when you've lo-liked someone for a really long time (a decade and a half, in fact), they tend to take up every waking moment. She just couldn't help it.

When she reached her dressing room, she was full-on sobbing, the waterworks in full motion. She felt herself begin to hyperventilate, sucking in air and panting out, "I can't breathe, I can't breathe" over and over and over again. Nothing like this had happened in so long. Not since... the K*nye W*st incident. The only trouble was, the only person who knew how to calm her down had walked out the door the moment she was on tour. She tried to count to ten, knowing that sometimes helped, and the 5-4-3-2-1 method seemed impossible in her current state, but it just wasn't working. She fumbled with her phone, calling the first number she saw, turning it on speakerphone as she sobbed and tried desperately to control her breathing, praying whoever she'd called would pick up.