ink. (haylor)

vi. wine

a/n:

hey loves

i recently mentioned not being able to get a connection to post bc im not at home; and that's what happened today - but here it is!

thanks for all the love and stuff

buh duh duh love you

-kay

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[Taylor's POV]

"And when I'm feeling weak, think back to times when we were young..."

The loud music pounded from the sound system and made my head buzz. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

I gulped down another mouthful of wine, the bitter stuff burning my throat as it went down. Going back for another sip, I realised the glass was empty – I didn't even remember drinking it, and it was already gone.

I reached across the counter for the bottle I'd been drinking from and found it almost empty.

I knew I wasn't drunk – my alcohol tolerance was way high, and I'd had way more to drink before. Back when I'd been the worst type of party animal, I could down 5 shots, one after the other, without even flinching.

However, I wasn't accustomed to the slow drunkenness that came with consuming a full bottle of wine. Vodka was easy – it was hard and stung your throat and made your senses black out for a fraction of a second, and then it was over.

Wine had a slow drunk sway, the kind where you didn't even realise you were getting drunk.

If I was still having thought processes like this, I definitely was not drunk.

The music pounded louder – I tapped the universal remote and the lead singer of the band was cut off, mid-word.

The pounding persisted.

It was the door.

I could not fathom how much effort I had to muster to lift my heavy head off of the cold granite counter top that was numbing my forehead and walk, slowly towards the door, just to stop the knocking that seemed to be driving me crazy.

Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion, my body not working at the same pace as my mind. That was how I usually felt when I was beginning to get drunk. I wasn't one of those girls who could never remember the details of a wild night – my mind was always clear – but my mortal body started shutting down after a while.

I almost threw myself into Harry's arms as he appeared at my door, flanked by two familiar guys I'd seen somewhere. I had been avoiding the green-eyed man who was to be my pretend-husband for the past week and the look of relief on his face was evident as I opened the door.

His shoulders visibly relaxed but his face turned concerned as he looked me up and down – I followed his gaze.

An old Calvin Harris tour t-shirt covered the tiny sleep shorts I'd rooted out of my drawer this morning after I'd decided I was definitely not leaving the house today.

It started when I'd woken up and checked my phone to find a text from Adam, claiming he couldn't wait to see me today since he'd just come home from the European leg of his tour. As much as I'd missed my boyfriend, I dreaded seeing him today.

I felt the weight of having to break up with the nicest, most thoughtful man I'd ever met. I hurled my phone across the room, hearing it thump against the wall and land on the floor, completely ignoring the rest of the waking world and tunneling back into the warmth of my bed. Effectively escaping my responsibilities for a while.