𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

chapter 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 - in the clear

Fiddling with the hem of his shorts, Taylor waited nervously outside Emmalyn's front door, contemplating whether to knock or leave in defeat.

Balling up his fist, yet still keeping it by his side, Taylor saw it as progress. His mind was racing. Rehearsing the lines in his head, muttering lightly when he messed up. "I'm really sorry that I.."

"Hi."

The door opened, and much to Taylor's surprise, there stood Emmalyn.

Over the past twenty-four hours, Taylor had been contemplating how on earth to approach her again. After returning to the hotel when the interview was over, the room was empty of Emmalyn and all traces of her; all she had left was a note on some sticky pads, complimentary with the room, saying: "Gone home x".

He packed up his stuff too and went to find Dave again, before they both also went back home.

Getting back in, wishing Dave well, Taylor fell into loneliness once more. It had been this was for him for over a year now and it had its ups and downs.

For the first few weeks without his girlfriend, Taylor went to the bar almost every night, trying to pick a chick up for the night.

After around a month, this routine was tiring and degrading for himself and also the women he chose, leading him into a pit of self-loathing for half a year.

Dave noticed after a while. How his drummer was always down and had no energy whatsoever. How his drummer always looked to have something on his mind and it was slowly eating away at him. How his drummer constantly was just drained.

"Man, are you okay?" About a year ago, Taylor had turned up to band practice with dark bags under his eyes and pale grey skin, wearing the same outfit he had worn last week.

Being without constant company had finally taken its toll on Taylor.

"Yeah, yeah," Taylor sat down at the kit in the studio, gripping the sticks tightly in anticipation. "Really? You don't look it at all. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, stop worrying," Taylor muttered, but truthfully, he hadn't eaten in about a week. It had been like this for a while now.

He'd go a week without eating and then after a while, he'd eat as much as his body could handle and get high. And that's when the drugs got bad again.

Once Taylor had joined Foo Fighters, his drug usage spiralled from a bit of weed on the weekend, to coke in a bathroom stall with a dealer from the street corner. He didn't know how to cope with being a rock musician, truth be told.

Dave had reassured him time and time again that drugs weren't a necessity to become a good drummer, and over time he grew to believe it. Taylor never went to meetings or therapy, because Dave had managed to get him off the hard drugs before it got too bad. But once his girlfriend left, Dave had no control over it anymore.

Constantly drinking on his own, getting high for no reason but to escape his mind, needles on the floor of his garage; it was all too much.

"Are you on drugs, T?" Dave asked, looking him dead in the eye as he spoke.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

It took a moment for Taylor to reply. Half-because he didn't know what to say and half-because he was too off his face to think.

"No."

Dave got Taylor to start therapy soon after that.

It took at least three months for the recovery to show, and he was gently coming off it. The doctor had advised he stay off the drinks, but Taylor basically said 'fuck you' and walked out.

Slowly becoming himself again, after hours of crying, screaming, shutting everyone away, gently letting a few people back in, Taylor had come off anything deadly. And Dave couldn't be prouder.

Despite the fact he still felt the pit of loneliness in the stomach to be ever-growing, he'd sworn an oath to Dave and himself that he wouldn't touch that stuff again. And he hadn't. For a long time. Six months clean he was.

"Oh, hey I'm sorry," Taylor ran a nervous hand through his hair, eyes now on the half-dressed woman before him. Emmalyn wore a large black t-shirt with Kurt, Krist and Dave on, along with a pit of short blue sport shorts. Her messy blonde hair was up in a sort of bun slash ponytail.

"Don't be, come in."

Emmalyn smiled as she walked at Taylor's side through to her kitchen which now smelled remotely less like booze and smoke, more like the fresh scent he'd woken up to when he was in bed with her.

"Coffee?" She asked, ushering Taylor to sit down at the breakfast bar as she found a mug.

"Oh, could I just have some water? I had a coffee on the way here so I'm feeling extra jittery," Emmalyn laughed slightly at Taylor's request, placing the mug back in its place and finding a clean glass instead.

The tap ran as she spoke, slowly filling up the glass with ice cold water, "So, what brings you here?"

She slid the glass across the countertop, before walking over to sit beside him. Taylor gripped the glass and sipped profusely at the water, some trickling down the side and wetting his fingers lightly.

"I don't know, I just wanted to see how you were? Sorta ran out on me that's all," Taylor's gaze lingered on her face, trying to see if his lighthearted comment had hurt her.

"Sorry about that. I'm just not great when people show me love that's all," Emmalyn looked down at her hands which rested on the marble top atop one another.

"That's okay, but I'm still gonna love you."

The woman's eyes widened at his comment, looking up to face him. Taylor always carried that charming smile which was constantly infectious and she couldn't help but grin.

"I won't say no to that dinner with you. We'll see how it goes from there shall we..?" Emmalyn asked flirtatiously, her hand sliding over to his as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as their fingers interlocked.

"Yeah, of course doll. I'm 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 now?" Taylor smiled, with his eyes as well as his lips.

"I suppose. Oh... and I have a question," Emmalyn's beam grew cheeky as she looked up at him, sweetly.

"Anything, what's up?"

"Do you guys wanna open with us on tour?"

"Hell fuckin' yeah."