under you || taylor hawkins - foo fighters

chapter 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - doll

"Good show guys, is anyone going out tonight?" Dave asked the band as they wandered backstage once again. Taylor threw his sticks down on the table and cracked open a cold one.

Met by many shrugs and "probably"s, Dave continued to look round at each band mate to see what their plans were. "I'm gonna take Emmalyn out tonight."

"Wait who's Emmalyn?" Rami asked, moving towards Taylor as he also picked a bottle and opened it with his teeth.

Taylor didn't really have an answer for Rami's question, but before he could come up with something, Dave replied with, "She's my old friend from back in Seattle, they're fuckin each other."

Rolling his eyes, Taylor was met by lots of jeering a few pats on the back, "We actually haven't fucked."

The drummer laughed along with his friends, trying to make light of the situation but deep down he knew what he thought.

It pissed him off that Dave only thought Taylor wasn't serious about Emmalyn, which was extremely funny because she was the first girl that Taylor cared for since the break up. He just couldn't fuck it over this time because not only would Taylor lose Emmalyn, he'd receive the beating of his life from Dave.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go get dressed we're gonna go to the Whiskey so you can come along if you guys want."

Taylor walked out and back down the hall towards his dressing room. The carpet was sticky and slippery from countless spilled spirits and bottles which had soaked in over the years. His skin mirrored the same sticky texture as sweat encased him.

Taylor was one to drum hard when he did. Every set was a long hard battle between him and the kit, chasing a defeat before they reached the end of the night. He could still feel the vibration in his arms from bashing the snare as the echo continued to ring in his ears.

With a tired shove, Taylor pushed the door to his dressing room open and was greeted by the scent of stale beer and his aftershave. He collapsed down onto the worn leather couch, his chest still heaving from exhaustion whilst he peeled his sweat-soaked shirt off, letting the cold air hit his flushed skin.

"Tay? Are you decent?" A voice came from outside the door as he was wiping his chest with the discarded t-shirt. "Yeah, come on in."

Taylor's eyes recognised her as they traced her body from the bottom up, her ripped fishnets catching his eye at first. It wasn't the kind of thing he'd picture she would wear, but she rocked it like always.

Emmalyn's stance was awkward as Taylor stood there admiring her, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her skirt as she waited for him to speak.

"Hey, sweetheart," Taylor beckoned her in, "Take a seat, I'm just coolin' down."

The girl placed herself down in almost the exact same spot Taylor had been in before. "How'd you find the show?"

Taylor took another swig from the bottle he'd left on the table, and offered it to Emmalyn, but she shook her head and hesitated a moment before she replied.

"It was insane. I mean- I've seen you guys play together before but watching you play tonight..." She trailed off, shaking her head before continuing, "You're incredible, Taylor."

Her words made him pause for a moment. He'd heard praise like that, sometimes even better than that, over a million times before but the way she said it, he actually heard it. For the first time in his life.

"Thanks," His voice was a lot softer now, losing a lot of his natural swagger, "It means a lot coming from you."

Their eyes met, and the air felt heavy for a moment or so. Taylor's chest fell heavy, not from the performance but the way she was looking at him. It was as though she saw straight through the chaos of his life, the sweat, the exhaustion and stared directly at the things Taylor wanted to keep hidden. And he didn't mind it all.