I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

No Woman as Terrified as the One Who Stands to Lose You

"Where are you going?" you ask your wife, voice raspy with sleep.

It's one AM, and Taylor has just gotten up with a sigh and a pack of cigarettes.

"For a smoke," she mutters cryptically, her back turned to you.

She's still in her suit since she had just gotten back from work, and you can tell she's in a terrible mood, so you don't say anything when she stands and heads for the balcony.

Benjamin jumps onto the bed meowing, and you coo and pet him.

You listen to the faint sound of the balcony door sliding open, followed by the soft click of it shutting behind her. The night feels heavy, almost oppressive, as if her mood had seeped into the very air around you. Benjamin purrs in your lap, kneading the blanket with his tiny paws, but your thoughts are elsewhere.

You turn to look at the clock, its red digits glaring back at you. 01:05. Taylor never smokes this late.

She's been distant for weeks now, ever since that big project at work started to consume her life. Meetings that stretched long into the night, phone calls that left her tense, and this--this sudden urge to be alone, to push you away without a word.

A part of you wants to leave it alone, let her brood, but another part--the part that can't stand seeing her like this--urges you to get up. You can't ignore that sinking feeling in your gut, the one telling you something's not right.

You pull the covers off, careful not to disturb Benjamin too much, and pad softly to the balcony door. Through the glass, you can see Taylor leaning against the railing, the cigarette hanging loosely between her fingers. Smoke curls into the night sky as she stares out into the dark, lost in thought.

"Tay," you call gently as you slide open the door. She doesn't turn, but you see the way her shoulders tense.

"Please," she says quietly, almost defeated. "Not tonight."

Your heart tightens at the sound of her voice--so tired, so unlike her. You step onto the balcony anyway, the cold night air biting at your skin.

"Come here," you coax softly, walking closer and gently wrapping your arms around her from behind.

For a tense moment, it seems like she might pull away, but it's not long before she's relaxing into you, leaning into you like you've been gone for too long and she misses you too much.

You press your cheek to the back of her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume mixed with the smoke, and you hold her tighter.

"I miss you," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You don't know if you're talking about this moment or the weeks she's been emotionally absent, but it doesn't matter. The truth of it hangs heavy in the air.

Taylor doesn't respond right away. She just takes another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. The silence between you stretches, and you wonder if she's even going to acknowledge what you said.

Then, finally, her voice cracks the stillness. "I'm sorry," she says softly, almost too quietly to hear. "I just . . . I don't know how to talk about it."

Her admission takes you by surprise. You weren't expecting an apology, and definitely not so soon.

You shift slightly, loosening your grip so she can turn around if she wants to, and after a moment, she does. Her face is a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability, her eyes red-rimmed, whether from stress or something deeper, you can't tell.

"You can talk to me," you say, your thumb brushing her cheek as you cup her face gently. "You don't have to carry all this alone, Tay."

She leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before opening again, glassy and uncertain. "It's just-work, everything-it's . . . it's too much. And I didn't want to drag you into it. I didn't want to be a burden."

You feel a sharp pang of frustration mixed with love, both at the situation and at her for thinking that she ever could be a burden to you. "You're never a burden. Never," you say, more firmly now, the conviction clear in your voice.

Taylor lets out a shaky breath, flicking the cigarette over the railing before burying her face in your chest. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, clutching onto you like a lifeline.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she murmurs, her voice muffled but filled with raw emotion.

You hold her tighter, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're not going to have to find out," you promise.

sorry this is so short :( I'll try to make the part II longer :)

Cuddles and kisses,

Zee