Queen of My Heart || Taylor Swift

Maroon

You softly giggled as your nose brushed against Taylor's. Her thumb rubbed against your bare skin, tracing small circles. The covers draped over the both of you, messy and ripped off the bed from the long hours before.

She caressed your cheek and gazed lovingly into your eyes. "You're so beautiful."

Even though the faint smell of wine in her breath was clear, you knew she meant it. She'd say it soberly, all day and every day.

"I love you." You whispered.

Taylor said it back, never breaking the meaningful eye contact. Your bodies were entangled together, your fingers playing with the loose strands of hair by her neck. She sat up slightly, resting on her elbows. Eventually, she swung her feet in your lap and started to chuckle.

"How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" You said.

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how."

You pulled her in for a kiss. Her hands roamed around your body, and you felt her fingertips brushing along your collarbone--still decorated with her lipstick stains and reddened hickeys. She held herself up on top of you, laying sweet kisses to your jawline. Her lips began to trail down your body.

"Shit." Taylor pulled back, like she was in sudden realization.

"What happened, babe?"

"The incense, I completely forgot about it."

She pushed herself off of the ground and stumbled around in the dark. You decided you wanted to follow her, randomly, and sat up. It was difficult to make out any objects in the very subtle moonlight that peered through the windows. Taylor struggled to find the light switches on the wall, and you had no better luck. If anything, the both of you were more focused on not drunkenly falling over your feet.

"Here, Tay!" You called out to her once you finally went in the right room.

She has what felt like a billion rooms on this floor, but you were sure it only seemed like that because of the wine. Taylor found her way to you and stared over at the wooden vinyl shelf. The stick burned scarlet, slowly crumbling piece by piece. Dark ash had spilled over the surface and was made visible by the stuttering red glow. One of the incense sticks had fallen over and stained the shelf underneath.

Taylor cursed under her breath. This seemed to sober her up a bit. You weren't sure if it was the thought of a potential fire or the damage to her vinyl shelf that pissed her off.

As weird as it sounds, this is one of the moments you think of between you and her. The fun of spending all night with her, drunk and in love. Even if there were a few (minor?) consequences. Yet nothing could compare to the days and nights you spent with her in New York.

It was so cheesy, especially thinking back to it. Taylor would hold her hand out to you, and you'd grab it. She'd pull you close and sway your bodies to whatever was playing on her record player. Whether it was some random 90s album you've never heard before, or a super upbeat pop album from last year. But the music didn't matter to you. All you saw was her, and all she saw was you. Even during the coldest winter nights, you'd dance with no shoes.

Or that party you went to in the 2010s. Her hair cut short and yours bleached. It was the night when you had first met Taylor, and at the moment the both of you were living lies. You needed someone to see the truth in you. She happened to be that someone. And eventually you let her become more than a stranger in your life.

"Damn it!" You gasped as you accidentally collided into a person.

Red wine had splashed all over your t-shirt, creating a burgundy stain that makes it look like you came out of a horror movie. You pinched your shirt to get a better look at how bad it was.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry." The person said. "I can pay for the laundering—"

"No, it's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

You looked up at the woman and your cheeks burned. Her hair was bleached and cut to a bob-length, and her eyes a piercing blue.

"I should at least help you get the stain out." She offered.

Something about her seemed oddly persistent. Like if you didn't let her be kind to you, she'd keep up the offers. So you subtly nodded your head and walked toward the bathroom. She pursed her lips, coated in a maroon lipstick, and followed behind you.

You wanted to get lost in your mind. You wanted to forget that it was ending. But you can't escape the bad memories, ones painful to recall. Because now you sit by yourself, mindlessly staring at the wall as tears welled up in your eyes.

Nothing could make up for the night where you came home under the influence. Drunk, high, and who knows what else happened? Taylor instantly took note of the mark on your collarbone. When you cheated on her, you weren't even drunk—barely tipsy. And it was the worst fucking mistake of your life.

You hurt the person who loved you most.

And you watched as she sobbed into her hands. It hit you then, with the force of a train, that you broke your promise. The promise to never do anything that'd make her cry on purpose. It wasn't an accident—a mistake, definitely, but not a mishap. Now it's not just infidelity, you're also a liar. So when she called you out, there was no point in arguing. You fucked up bad enough and you were completely aware of that.

All of it came flooding back through your memory. You left for the night and came back the next day to pick up your stuff. And that hollow-eyed look on her face was unforgettable when she opened the door to let you inside her apartment. She had thrown away the carnations you got for her a week ago that you thought were roses. The glass vase sat empty on her dining room table. Empty like your houses now with no company. Empty like the other side of the bed. Empty like where your hearts were.

The day you left was the last day you heard from each other.

~~
A/N

Please interpret the last sentence how you want.

Very unedited. This might be completely incomprehensible and I won't know lol.

P.S. if there is ever a part 2, which I'll take recs, it won't be a happy ending for sure.

Finished at 1.1k words