No Way Back (a Taylor Hawkins fan fiction)

Chapter 20 - Returns and Repurcussions

Gen woke with a start to the sound of heavy snoring beside her. Turning over, she found a mess of blonde hair. Taylor was sprawled out on top of the covers, still fully dressed in his slacks and button up, now wrinkled and creased from a late night. The smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol drifted up from where he lay, hitting Gen in like a slap to her swollen face. She hadn't heard him come in, which was impressive considering the Taylor tornado that had apparently hit the room as she slept. Two white sneakers lay as though they'd been thrown on either side of the bedroom, a room service menu lay in the middle of the floor and a tray sat on the bedside table with a half-eaten club sandwich hanging limply off a plate. She lifted herself slowly upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed rubbing her face with the palms of both hands before standing and making her way to the bathroom. The mirror was unforgiving. Her eyelids were swollen and puffy, her eyes red, the dark circles beneath them making it look like she'd been on the losing end of a fist fight, and in a way, she felt she had.

The hot water barely registered to her senses as she stood beneath it, staring straight ahead as beads of water collected on the pale tile of the shower walls. She tried to make sense of the morning's events as she shampooed her hair slowly.Was it too little, too late? Was it vindication? Or had meeting Taylor simply been the Universe's bizarre way of getting her back to London and to Sergio? At this point she couldn't feel a pull in any direction, instead all she felt was a dull numbness in her chest and the pit of her stomach. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in one of the Sanderson's rich, white bath towels, twisting another one around her dark hair before padding back into the bedroom, her feet leaving wet footprints on the tiles behind her.

Taylor was still dead to the world, snoring away in the hotel bed as she dug in her suitcase for something to wear. She watched him sleep as she pulled on her jeans and a loose-fitting black blouse. Sitting down to slip on her shoes, she paused to look at him for a moment, remembering the first time she'd woken up beside him and watched him sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamt. It was the first time she had felt anything stirring in a place she'd long since abandoned. He was the first man since Sergio that seemed like something more than a way to pass the time. He was the first to give her hope. She grabbed her phone, cigarettes and room key and slipped out of the room quietly, heading down to the scene of last night's dramatics. It was almost noon but the courtyard was quieter than usual, most hotel guests still sleeping off the NME excess, or still participating in it behind closed doors and drawn curtains. Apart from a few random facebook notifications, Gen's phone had remained quiet while she slept, and for that she was thankful.

"Good morning, Party Pooper!"

She recognized Pat's voice before she turned to confirm it, a genuine smile warming her face for the first time in what felt like ages. Pat had quickly become her favorite of Taylor's bandmates early on in their courtship. He shared the same biting wit and sarcastic banter that she and Rachel lived by and he'd become an ally and a partner in crime at group events.

"Hello Patrick" she said, embracing him. "I'm amazed to see you up so early."

Pat shrugged. "I went pretty hard on night one. Last night was tame for me."

"What's tame for you?"

"I'll never tell." Pat grinned mischievously as he lit his cigarette, then hers. "What had you skip out so early anyway? You didn't even say goodbye!"

"I'm sorry, I felt sick all of the sudden and just wanted to come back here to lay down."

She prayed he would buy her bullshit. If anyone were to call her bluff it would most certainly be him. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, but continued on with another shrug.

"Well it's too bad. You were missed."

"Speaking of missing, did you happen to stick with Taylor last night?" Gen asked.

"Naw I came back here around 2:30, why? Everything okay?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replied, heaving a weary sigh. Pat raised an eyebrow. "He dropped off the earth after about 2 and still wasn't back to the room until sometime after 5," she continued.

"Where is he now?"

"Sleeping."

Pat shook his head and took a drag from his cigarette. His jawline was shadowed with stubble and he scratched at it absentmindedly. She felt so much adoration for him that for a moment she considered telling him everything. She was desperate for a confidant and it was still too early in Los Angeles to call Rachel. She was counting down the minutes.

"I wouldn't worry about it, babe." Pat said. "T loves you. He wouldn't do anything stupid."

Gen chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"Gen," Pat stopped her, looking her dead in the eyes and pointing the burning tip of his cigarette at her. "The man is in love with you. He told me so." He finished the last sentence with a sly grin and sat back in his seat contentedly.

She stared back at him, dumfounded. Words that would once have swept her directly off her feet now felt like a punch to the guts. She hoped the tears welling up in her eyes looked like tears of joy rather than tears of guilt.

"Oh take it easy," laughed Pat. "You guys are so goddamn cheesy."

Gen smiled meekly and the two carried on chatting, Pat filling her in on what she'd missed when she'd left in a hurry, her making small talk and avoiding an subjects that could veer into unsafe territory. She made it back up to the room about 20 minutes later and found Taylor stirring as she walked into the bedroom.

"Babe," he croaked, his eyes tiny slits. "Babe I'm so sorry. I lost my phone." He pulled himself partially upright, and cringed at the effort. Gen sat herself wearily on the small chaise opposite the bed and set her phone and cigarettes down beside her.

"What time did you get back?" She asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I don't even know." He rubbed his left eye and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "It was light out. I was pretty fucked up."

She nodded quietly, still not making eye contact. "I was worried."

"I'm sorry Iggy."

She could hear the sincerity in his voice and it stung. She forced her eyes upward, finding his.

"You look like shit," she said, a tiny smile creeping across her lips.

He laughed softly and cringed again. "I don't know if you could punish me any worse than my body is punishing me right now."

"I'll tell you what," she said, softening. "If you take a shower and brush your teeth. I will orchestrate a pizza delivery and find something to watch that doesn't require too much brain power."

Taylor flashed her a huge smile and gingerly removed himself from the bed, heading in the direction of the bathroom.

"Don't forget the Coke, baby" he said over his shoulder. "All the Coke."

Coca Cola, Pizza and mindless television had become their couple's hangover ritual. As Gen searched for nearby delivery options on her phone she began to feel cautiously optimistic. She'd faced her past and she hadn't given in to the temptation to return to it. Now she could move forward with her gangly, scruffy, hungover, rock star boyfriend. The man who was apparently in love with her.

She used the hotel phone to order a medium pizza, half pepperoni, half vegetarian, with a 6-pack of Coke and settled into the bed, hearing Taylor turn the shower on in the other room. Grabbing the remote, she flipped the television on. It was tuned to MTV UK, an advert for a re-broadcast of last night's award show flickering on the flatscreen. She smiled as a quick snippet of the Foo Fighters performance zoomed by and looked down at the buttons on the remote, searching for the guide button, when a familiar voice caused her eyes to shoot back up to the screen. Tom and Sergio stared back at her from across the room, being interviewed by a stylish young presenter. Her stomach dropped as she recognized the black and white button up she'd given him and that familiar silver necklace.

This wouldn't be over until they were out of London.