A request inspired by So High School and The Alchemy; two parts.
"You get to feel good about something, you know. It's not a crime. Don't tell me you feel guilty right now? Taylor, c'mon."
"Not guilty, per say. Just...weird."
"Why? Because it's not dramatic and bombastic and full of pining shit? Because he's not emotionally unavailable? Because he's nice?"
"I'm not 20 anymore. Those things don't appeal to me."
"Taylor."
"That's not what the whole thing was about."
"What was it about then? I don't claim to know shit but I do know I never want to see you that sad again. Over anyone, least of all someone who's not fit to wipe your shoes. He's a fucking prick, Tay and you know it."
It's not in Taylor's wheelhouse right now to explain the absolute breakdown that had led to some very poor, very regrettable decisions.
"I was fucked up," she opts for, staring down at her toes. Her feet hurt, but it's a good kind of pain, the kind that reminds her that she's survived. The summation certainly doesn't encompass enough; gets the point across well enough, though.
"I know. I know you were." Abigail's tone softens. She watches as her best friend's shoulders gradually come down from her ears. "I'm not saying it was your fault, Tay."
"I know."
There's a part of her...probably a larger part than she'd care to admit, that feels like maybe it was. That if she hadn't idealized the whole thing in her head, if she hadn't allowed him in, if she she hadn't overlooked the obvious...
"Okay, then, well, then you should understand it's fine for you to have feelings for someone that aren't complicated. It's a good thing."
She pops her leg, flexing her anklebone so that it gives a satisfying crack. They've had a few dates, it's been almost a month of knowing him and the butterflies haven't let up. Not even a little.
What Abi was getting at wasn't anything she hadn't realized herself. To be able to enjoy this, to enjoy the hand holding and the way he's kind and funny and easy to talk to feels like something to be earned, rather than entitlement.
Trauma is a fucking bitch, she silently acknowledges. Even knowing this is different, that Travis is different, doesn't seem to be enough to convince herself that she deserves to be happy.
"Do you want to know what I think?"
Abigail is Taylor's voice of reason and she's hers. It's not always simple or convenient to tell someone you love how it is without hurting their feelings a little, but somehow, they manage and it's because they just want what's best for the other person.
"Always."
"Just breathe. Breathe and enjoy it for what it is. The most beautiful things are unexpected sometimes. I should know."
She exhales, pushing the air out and into the room through a locked jaw. "I really like him. Like so, so fucking much."
"That's weird, too, huh? Having a crush and not feeling like your heart's gonna explode in your chest?"
Taylor laughs. "You know me way too well."
"Just because it's light and fun and easy doesn't mean it's gonna blow up in your face, Taylor. Take it all as it comes, okay?"
"I can't--"
"Just promise me you'll try."
The truth is, she's exhausted. Fighting is hard work and it seems for years, that's all she's been doing. First, it was for her relationship, then it was to stay afloat when her relationship ended and after that, it was fighting to stay alive after Matty had swept in like some kind of dark knight and made her all kinds of promises he had no intention of keeping.
