blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{14} a temporary haven

Taylor's POV:

The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut. I stare at her, my heart aching.

"I'm so sorry," I manage to say, my voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know."

Aurora shrugs, her expression a mix of sadness and defiance. "It's okay. It's just... I see you're struggling. The way your eyes always look like you haven't slept in days, your constant dizziness, your chapped lips, the soft hair on your cheeks. It's hard to miss, especially when you've lived through it."

"I didn't mean for anyone to notice," I admit, guilt washing over me. "I thought I was being careful."

"Careful isn't enough," she replies, her voice firm. "You don't have to do this alone, you know? I know what it's like to feel trapped in your own body, to feel like nothing you do is ever good enough."

Her eyes bore into mine, and I can feel the raw honesty in her words. "You're so much more than what you see in the mirror, Ms. Swift. Don't let it take over your life like it did for my sister."

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat almost choking me. "I didn't realize you felt that way," I say softly, trying to keep my composure. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Aurora looks away, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You shouldn't have to struggle like this. I know what it feels like to be in that darkness, and it sucks. It's exhausting."

"I want to be better," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard, Aurora. I don't want to disappoint anyone. I feel like I'm drowning."

Her eyes flicker back to mine, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the fierce spirit I've come to admire. "You're not disappointing anyone. You're human, and it's okay to not be okay. But you need to take the first step. Don't hide from the people who care about you."

"I'm trying," I whisper, the tears threatening to spill over. "I really am."

"Then let me help," she says, her voice steady but soft. "You've helped me so much, and I know I don't always show it, but I appreciate it. You make a difference in my life."

A silence settles between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. The air feels charged, and I can't ignore the way my heart races as I watch her. "I don't want to hurt you," I say finally, the fear of crossing that line creeping back into my mind.

Aurora leans closer, her gaze intense.

"You're not hurting me, Taylor. You're helping me see that I'm not alone. Just... don't push me away. We both need someone right now."

"I won't," I promise, feeling the connection between us deepen. But as I look into her eyes, I can't help but wonder how far we're willing to go. I want to comfort her, to tell her that it'll be okay, but the fear of crossing those boundaries lingers.

In that moment, I realize that our struggles are intertwined in ways we're only beginning to understand. And as much as I want to pull her closer, I can't shake the feeling that this delicate balance could easily shatter.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice shaky. "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself, even when it feels impossible."

"I promise," she replies softly, her gaze steady. "As long as you promise to do the same."

We sit in silence, the weight of our promises hanging heavy in the air. In this moment, surrounded by the chaos of our lives, I find solace in her presence.

Aurora is curled up on the sofa now, hugging a pillow to her chest. I've draped a blanket over her, hoping it's enough to make her feel safe, even if just for tonight. I've cleaned up the glass of water she barely touched and set it on the coffee table, a reminder of my attempt to sober her up that failed. The weight of her sadness, her vulnerability, lingers in the air like smoke.