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895 words
August 2023, Los Angeles
"Hey—" One of the dancers comes up to Taylor, gently tapping her on the shoulder, startling her a bit. "You okay?"
Taylor's therapist told her that it was better to talk about how she was feeling rather than keep it in. She doesn't remember when exactly her therapist told her that, but she knows she did, and she knows it works.
"Yeah, I'm fine." But she doesn't know her dancers all that well. "Why do you ask?"
"You just seemed a little out of it, that's all."
"I'm okay. This LA run is...a lot" Taylor admits, running a hand through her hair.
"Yeah. You're killing it, though." Taylor smiles. She makes another lap around backstage, avoiding the inevitable being alone that comes after this part. She shares a long, tight, comforting hug with—a crying—Gracie, and Taylor feels herself get emotional as Gracie sobs about how much this tour has meant to her.
"Love you, kiddo," Taylor murmurs, kissing the girl's head.
"Love you too, dude. Thank you so much" Gracie sniffs, wiping under her eyes and going off to squeal and hug with everyone else backstage. A couple more people ask Taylor if she's okay, which she responds with I'm fine and I just have a headache (which she actually does).
"Get some rest, bud." her Dad tells her as she walks to her car. I'll try.
She lets out a long sigh as she unlocks the door of her LA house. It used to feel like home. So many late nights on the couch, so many conversations ranging from "What's your favorite pasta shape?" to "How are you holding up?"
All of it gone. Down the drain. Just like that.
That spot in the corner where she'd have breakdowns is still there, and so is that fucking bed. The bed where they shared so many nights. The bed where his pillow still lays. The bed where she woke him up frantic, sobbing, bloodied and in pain. The bed that's still stained to this day. The bed she can't sleep on without a sticky grossness washing over her.
She tries to sleep in a guest bedroom—given that she feels sick at just the thought of that godforsaken night—but the sheets feel weird and they can't get warm for some reason and goddammit it's stiff, and eventually she gives up decides to at least attempt to sleep in her room on that bed without having a panic attack
(Spoiler alert: it didn't work and she woke up with a nightmare in a full panic)
"I can't fucking sleep in this house!" Taylor sobs, her phone pressed to her ear. She's got Blake on the other end, the only friend that's willing to listen to her and calm her down, it seems. "Every single fucking thing reminds me of him! I'm so tired and sick of this."
"Take a deep breath, okay?" Blake says, trying her hardest to sooth her friend, "I'm sorry you're struggling right now, Tay, I really am but I think you need to start talking to someone other than me."
"I know. I have. But it's hard with- with tour and everything, and I can barely form a coherent sentence let alone talk about my shit with my fucking therapist!"
She hears Blake sigh on the other end, "You sound exhausted, T."
"I am!" Taylor cries, curling up into a ball.
"Where are you right now?"
"The couch"
"Maybe you can try to sleep there? If all else fails you could take something or take a nap in your dressing room."
"Mmm I think I have some edibles around here somewhere but I don't wanna wake up feeling like I ran into a wall" Taylor laughs a little, the knot in her chest easing a bit. "I think crying helped though, thanks for putting up with my shit." She sniffs, wiping her eyes.
"Anytime, babe. Get some sleep."
It has to get worse before it gets better.
***
Four hours of sleep, and several cups of coffee later energy is buzzing through her veins (quite literally, she feels like she's trembling) but other than that, she feels normal. For once there's no alcohol in her system, and she's actually really excited. It's closing night, why not actually enjoy herself for once?
She gets up on that stage and immediately feels it. It's gonna be an emotional night.
"So, this is the last night of the US tour—as you may know—and I, um, I just wanted to say that this tour and everything has meant so, so much to me." She stammers, trying to get her point across quickly before she loses the battle against the tears forming in her eyes. "Just the fact that you want to be here, and you're having fun means the absolute world to me. So thank you for that. I love you all so much, more than anything."
There's things she left out, there's always things she leaves out, and she kept her emotions at bay. But once the lights go out, and it's over, like actually over the tears come and they don't stop.
She's happy, so so so happy. Sandwiched between her dancers, her backups, her band, her friends, and her family she feels the okayest she's felt in months.
She's still treading water, but she's getting there.
It has to get worse before it gets better.
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there's gonna be lots of exposition the next few chapters but stick with me it's worth it i promise (also this isn't proofread so point out errors if you must) vote and comment, don't ghost read! love you all
