I Wish You Would - A Haylor Fanfic

Chapter 3

Taylor:

The crowd falls silent as the stadium is shrouded in darkness and the countdown begins until we're live. On television. All around the world. No pressure.

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Through the darkness, I make out Adam's tall figure, and guilt floods through me. It's hours later, and still, my mind clings to the topic of Harry. All I can think about is how much I miss when we were together; in love, both so happy. I miss his soft voice, his curly locks, his strong hands, his adorable laugh...

I haven't even been able to pay attention to the awards at all. My heart can't be satisfied, so all I can do is gaze at him when the cameras aren't on me for a minute or so.

I feel myself falling back into the deep, dark hole that is love, when I am snapped back into reality by the sound of J-Lo calling my name out in that forced, supposedly entertaining, announcer voice they all use, and the entire stadium goes wild.

I swallow back my feelings, flash a wide smile, instinctively covering my mouth with my hand like I always do, and elegantly climb the steps to the stage, trying my best to look anywhere except where Harry and Kendall are sat.

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With the familiar feeling of a shining, weighted award in my hands, I wait graciously for the audience to settle down, take a deep breath and smile out at the crowd, then start talking.

"Wow, you guys! I can't believe this! I honestly cannot thank you enough! I remember the first time I won an award, years and years ago! I was crying so much and I felt like it was the biggest achievement ever, and all I could think about was that it was you guys; the people who listened to my songs on the radio, the people who bought my albums, especially my last one, (this causes a wave of new-found screaming from the fans in the back), the people who listened and CARED about the stories behind them, CARED about me, are the reason I'm here right now, and why my dreams came true! Well, I feel the exact same way now!"

I can feel myself turn red, and for a few seconds there I'm not thinking about anything else, I'm only thinking about how lucky I am and how much I love my fans.

But then, I make the awful mistake of glancing at his side of the stadium. All I can focus on is Kendall, her hand slowly sneaking its way up Harry's torso, her fake-tanned leg entwining itself around him, her lips taking their time on his cheek.

He pulls her closer and his kiss idles on her forehead. My mouth hangs open for a millisecond and I feel a sharp pang in my heart, making me alarmingly weak at the knees. I find myself blinking back oncoming tears and wishing desperately to feel his warm, protective arms around me just one more time.

Thankfully, I manage to compose myself quickly and babble on and on about my gratitude.

As soon as my speech is over, I'm hurrying off the stage as fast as I can in these ridiculous heels. I stride right past my seat, ignoring Adam calling after me, and I don't stop until I find an empty room, private and away from the headache inducing crowd. I close the door firmly behind me and find myself staring at my own reflection in a mirror.

Pulling my hair out of my face, I stare at myself, perfectly made up with my signature red lipstick coating my now trembling lips.

Before anything else can happen, I break down and the tears start streaming. My heart beats heavily in my chest as my emotions are all let loose. I hold my face in my hands and sob loudly and unattractively.

I have tried for so long to kid myself that I am perfectly happy with Adam, but I always knew, deep down, that he's not the one, and he never will be. I've tried to tell myself Harry is in the past and that I'm over him, but he was always the one I replaced Adam with in my imagination.

I rest my elbows on the edge of the sink, hurriedly wiping my eyes as the tears fall.

As I lift my arm and reach for the tissues beside me, I hear a loud clunk and turn to see a bottle of something next to me. I consider it for a second, then decide anything is better than standing here sobbing and feeling sorry for myself, so I pick up the glass bottle and take a large swig.

My head instantly goes fuzzy, and for a second, the sadness and misery are overtaken, before I'm left oddly less aware of how hopeless my situation is.

I squint at the fine print, trying desperately to read the label on the bottle, but my vision is too blurred with tears to decipher it. So I just ignore it and take a few more sips.

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The bottle is already nearly empty, but I keep going, the sweet, fizzy taste now familiar in my mouth.

Suddenly, I feel my stomach churn painfully. Clutching my sides, I swallow, trying my best to get rid of the sour taste building up in my mouth. I am definitely gonna hurl.

I lean down and tug off my impractical shoes, and run to collapse in a stall. I don't throw up, surprisingly, but I hardly remember my name now, never mind all that other stuff I was worrying about before, so I guess this miracle drink is doing something right.