Dissolution • Taylor swift and Harry styles

Chapter 12, comprehending

Taylor's perspective
I'm overwhelmed by the flashing lights and screaming reporters. I'm trying to act calm. We pose for the cameras for a couple of minutes. This doesn't feel real. I mean it does, but it doesn't if that makes sense. It's like I'm an outsider looking through a window or something. It's so bizarre.

"Don't mind them" Harry whispers in my ear while rubbing my back, breaking me from my thoughts. I look at him confusingly before paying attention to the reporters. They aren't asking about Zayn as I thought, they're asking about me.

"Who's the whore Harry?!", "are you back hooking up with models Harry?", "she looks too slutty for you Harry!", and "miss, how do you feel coming here with a sex machine?" Are some of the things being screamed at us. My heart stops for a moment.

I fight to hold back my tears as I feel the lump in my throat growing bigger and bigger. Why would they say such things? They don't even know us. They don't even know me.

"Harry, times up!" Harry's manager tells him while tapping his shoulder. Harry nod and lead me off the carpet. I just follow, too stunned to do anything else.

Harry tells me something about needing to find the band for press and asking me if I'll be alright for a while" I just nod and do my best at giving him an assuring smile.

As soon as he turns away I run for the bathroom, parting the crowd's mingling. I mumble sorry to any shoulder I may hit or toe I may stand on, not making eye contact with anyone. As I reach the bathroom I slam the door up and head to the sinks.

I steady my hands on the sink and break. I sob and sob and sob. How didn't I see this coming? I should've known the press would go insane. I just didn't think they'd be so rude. Can't they see I'm just as human as them?

I stare at the mirror, looking myself up and down. The smeared Mascara ironically matches my black leather outfit. I look nothing like myself. I don't fit this, I look like a slut. I guess the press were right about that.

"Oh honey, what happened?" Some actress asks me in the Grammy bathroom. She puts her arm around me and looks at my eyes sympathetically. I wipe my salty tears away before clearing my throat.

"Don't worry about it. I'm okay" I try to assure her with a crooked smile. The tears revealing my lie. "No you're not, I can tell that much" she answers. I look into her eyes for a second before breaking into tears again. The girl hugs around me and I kinda collapse into her arms. She eventually pulls back and tells me to explain.

I tell her about me and Harry, how he cheated, how I forgave him and how the press just kind of tore me down. I realise how silly it is breaking out over this. This girl probably goes through ten times worse cases like this a day! And she's alright.

"What's your name?" She asks me. "Taylor."
"Taylor, I know how terrible and cruel the press can be, but you mustn't let it tear you down. You mustn't." She pauses for a second. "People will always come for us. Always. Whether it's press, paparazzis, fans or haters. We'll never be quite perfect in their eyes, no matter how hard we may try, remember that. All you can really do is make the best out of it. Enjoy your life Taylor, you have a right to do that, no matter what people will think or say about you. Just do your best to shake it off, and you'll be perfectly fine."

Her words comfort me greatly. She wipes the last tears off my face before helping me up. " thank you..." I wait for her name. "Emma. Emma Stone" and I instantly recognise her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognise you with all those tears in my eyes" I apologise. Emma just giggles.

After collecting myself, wiping makeup and applying new makeup, we rejoin the mingling. Me and Emma stone, hand in hand. I think I've just made a friend for life.

Emma's moodboard: