Chronicles Of The Broken Hearted: A Gaga / Tayga Fanfiction

He called, She cried.

Here's a quick one guys. I'm not expecting anyone to read this, but I was asked to write something and I can't break my promise because of what I'm feeling. This is basically an intro and I might continue it. Sorry to say this but I don't think Tayga will get together even if I want them to. I feel like it's Gaga's fault, but I'll still support her. Much more love to Taylor, I really support him.
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I stopped counting weeks when I lost track. At first I was counting days, because it was the usual routine I followed being away from Stefani. I was fine not seeing her for the first nine days. I missed her, but I didn't get to think so much about how much I did since I was busy working.

Then when the digits doubled I would grow a little worried for her, a little worried for myself. Worry for her because I wondered what she was doing, if she was drinking again, if she ever thought I was a bad fiancé for not being there on the nights she cried. Worried for me because I couldn't concentrate on anything and I had to do my best to make her proud. How was I going to do my best if the image of her giving me a lapdance was playing in my head all day?

When the time we spent apart grew, I converted the days to weeks because remembering 40-something was harder than 6 weeks, then 7 weeks. During that transition, and before and after it, I would still call and text Stefani. We didn't Skype or anything. She always said she was working, so I didn't want to disturb her.

Every week I had Monday off and the two days prior I called Stefani to ask if she was free, so I could come and see her. Sometimes she would read i and not reply, other times she said no, and I was left on my own, in our Chicago home, my mum's or mine at the beach.

Eventually I lost track off the weeks too. I couldn't remember the last time Stefani told me she loved me. We only ever texted at night and it was a quick greeting, "how was today" and "ok, well it's late, have a good rest". I found myself kicking sand by myself, scratching the skin of my sunburnt forearm but retracting my hand once I felt the pain and heat radiating off of my baked skin. It was a Saturday, but this one, like many others before, I was no longer asking her if I could come over. She was going to say no and act like it didn't hurt me.

Of course it would. The person I spent half a decade with in hopes I would marry, didn't need me like I needed her. We were growing apart because of her schedule and whenever she posted a picture of herself having fun on her Instagram, I felt betrayed. She did have her off days but never really gave me a heads up so I could make my way over to her place. It was like she didn't want me. Did that ring ever remind her someone she loved was waiting?

That night, I didn't have any dinner after work and I attached my phone to the charger. It was running low on battery but I was ready to confront Stefani that very moment. I dialed her number, the one I memorised by heart and I waited. I tried a few times before getting to her, and she sounded nervous when she picked up.

"Taylor?" she said.

"We need to talk. You know how long it's been since we have."

She stays silent.

"I haven't seen you in so long. It's like you're pushing me away, every opportunity I offer. We're growing apart, Stefani, it's not working."

I hear a sigh and the stutter of a beginning but she doesn't say anything.

"Stefani, whatever is going on with you, it just isn't looking good. I'm not going to stand here and pretend it's all okay. I gave you that ring because we're supposed to be together, but we haven't been together in so long."

"...what are you saying?" she whimpers. I can't believe she has nothing to own up to. We came so far for her to act like this was nothing. It hurt me to observe her barely moved. She wasn't even fighting me.

"We need a break. Maybe we shouldn't be together." I admit. I hope it doesn't come across to her that I sound defeated, but to my own ears, I do. I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm confused and I have so many questions. But they're for Stefani, so she'll never give an answer.

All I can hear is background noise. It sounds like she's alone, it's the sound of dead silence. I prompt her reply, "so what is it?"

All she manages is, "...okay." and that's all I need.

Before I end the call, I bid her one last farewell for now. I say it with my heart, what I used to every night we spent together right before she fell asleep. "Night gypsy princess."

I hoped she remembered what that used to mean. She wrote a song about it after all. But with how things have changed since then, I wouldn't be surprised. Love passed for us like time, gradually, and the pain that accompanied every second she wasn't with me just grew. That night I let go of it. That night she received it.