𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

chapter 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 - new way home

The next couple of months passed through like the tide. Sometimes life was low and unimportant, Emmalyn and Taylor sharing their downtime together, going out for food, taking walks to wherever, meeting with friends, it felt right for a while.

However sometimes the Spring didn't bring its regular warmth. Taylor relapsed again two days after his birthday in February.

"Taylor?" Emmalyn walked through the doors into Dave's living room, having been called around to collect Taylor.

Dave had thrown a party for Taylor filled with old friends and musicians, however one of them brought the wrong kind of birthday gift.

"Linny," Dave's voice was low and tired, like the day Emmalyn had met him in London. He gestured for her to follow him, running his fingers through his hair as they entered the main section of his house.

"What happened?" Emmalyn's voice was eager but equally as exhausted, hating how familiar this situation was coming.

"It was fine, until-," Dave stuttered, his eyes full of hesitation, "We were just drinking and played some pong. I kept a fuckin' eye on him... but some jerk thought it was a good idea to bring coke."

Emmalyn clenched her jaw, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't need to hear the rest. She could already picture it. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Dave sighed, "He's in the guest room, he doesn't look great, Lins."

She didn't reply, her legs carrying her straight upstairs, pushing past Dave as though it were her duty to go into that room. "Taylor...?"

The door creaked open and the lights outside slowly falling onto Taylor's pale face. His forehead was cold and sweaty, which he held in his hands, sitting at the foot of the bed with trembling legs.

Taylor's hair was immensely disheveled, as though he'd tried to pull it out, his shirt was wrinkled and his whole body radiated tension.

His eyes were jittering as they looked up, bloodshot and glazed with an expression made up of guilt and shame. "Dolly, I'm so sorry..." His voice was rough and quiet.

Emmalyn walked into the room after leaving the door open for light, kneeling before the man and taking his hands into her own. They were cold and clammy, not the way they usually were. "What happened, Tay?"

Taylor shook his head, his eyes threatening to spill over as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip before speaking, "It got out of hand. We were drinking and then this guy offered and I thought, one time, just the once Taylor. It was supposed to be one single fucking line. One line."

"One line never stays one line, you know that by now Taylor," Emmalyn said, her tone firm but not unkind, "We've been through this, darling."

"I know," Taylor spoke, his voice breaking as his tone felt frustrated, "I fucked up again."

She squeezed Taylor's hands tightly again, hoping to ground him back again, "We'll fix this, fix it all, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. You were just getting out of this."

He nodded, the tears now flowing down his cheeks, "I let you down again, I'm so sorry."

"You never have to apologise. We'll get through this, come on let's go home," Emmalyn smiled as much as possible, but this routine was draining.

Throughout the month of March, Emmalyn started spiralling too. The first year after Kurt's death Emmalyn started having these dreams, these awful dreams that lead to sleepless nights filled with writhing in cold sweats and falling deeper into painful and longing thoughts.