𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

chapter 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - i'll stick around

"T, what the fuck? Where are you?!" Taylor could only hear that Dave's voice was loud and aggressive through the line but the real emotion showing through his words was plain fear.

"It's fiiine. Go fuck your blonde whore I'm fine..." His voice was slurred and unsure, the background overwhelming the sound of his voice with loud motorbike revs and car horns blaring as Taylor's breath grew heavy.

"The fuck?" Dave cursed, getting up from the bed in his London hotel and moving towards the door, out of his sleeping girlfriend's earshot, "Taylor where the fuck are you?!"

"Fuck you."

He hung up. That was it.

      ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ . ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.

"Shit shit, fucking shit," Dave fumbled with his cellphone, trying to dial in a number as quick as possible.

The dial tone rang, the first calming and monotonous sound he'd experienced in what felt like forever. His heart was pounding largely as he multitasked, jamming the phone between his shoulder and ear whilst he threw on some new jeans, the recipient picking up just as he zipped up the fly.

"What the fuck, Grohl it's midnight..?" Emmalyn's voice trailed off, he could almost picture her tired eyes half-open as she answered the call.

"Linny, Taylor's in the hospital. He overdosed."

"Fuck. What do I- When's the next fuckin' flight?!"

      ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ . ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.

Hastily rushing into a taxi at 3am on a Sunday morning was certainly not what Emmalyn had expected, but the whole series of events was unexpected and completely unwanted by her.

As soon as she's gotten off the phone with Dave, she's thrown whatever possible into a suitcase from the nearest places possible so that she could get out as soon as possible. The next flight into Heathrow was at 4:15 and she wasn't going to miss it.

She was beyond pissed at Taylor for turning back to drugs, but she knew what was going on. She's been through it before. She'd had that call before.

"Baby.." Courtney had cooed through the phone, her breath hitching from the tears which rolled down her blushed cheeks as the background was a simple but stable beeping of a electrocardiogram machine.

"What.. What's going on? Where's Kurt?!" Emmalyn had picked up the phone, fully expecting to hear the accent and voice of her stoned brother, yapping on about his time in Rome. But it was his wife instead.

"Kurt's in the hospital. He's not doing too well, baby."

Her heart stopped for a moment, her eyes glazing over at the thought. Emmalyn knew what was going on with Kurt, with his stomach problems, with the overexposure to fame, with the drugs. She just never wanted to believe it.

"How do I get there? To you?"

"We're half way across the world honey. Just know he's thinking of you," Courtney's sobbing became audible at that remark, as did Emmalyn's. His wife was treating it like he was already dead, like he had time; but Emmalyn's naïve mind wasn't going to let that pass.

"He's not dead is he? He's not dead yet?" Her crying voice was now squealing in torture. Like Courtney had ripped out her guts and wrenched them, hard.