Paramore One Shots

i'll be lost until you find me

Trigger warnings: self harm, grief

"This is...this is really high up, Hayley. Are you sure we won't get caught?" I squeezed Taylor's hand as he carefully sat down with his legs crossed, still further away from the edge than me.

"It's okay, it's not even that high," the truth was, even I was scared at this height, and I was pretty much known for being fearless.

"Not that high? This building is 15 stories!" We we're sitting on top of our apartment complex. The fear in Taylor's eyes made my heart ache for him. Taylor, on the other hand, was known for being...well there's no nice way to say it. He's not the most popular person. We'll leave it at that. But he loves what he does: music, and that's all I've ever wanted. A person who stays true to themselves. That's something I've always admired in Taylor. He never tried to change himself for someone.

"Take some deep breathes. Imagine yourself...at your piano. Imagine you're there, I'm sitting next to you, you're playing a sweet song, you're safe," he edged himself closer with his eyes closed, squeezing my hand until it became numb. I swung my legs out and they hit the bricks on the side of the building. Taylor gasped and his eyes flung open. He tugged me harshly backwards and wrapped his arms around.

"Don't do that! Dont—" he was starting to focus on his fear and that wasn't what I wanted right now. He had to get to where I was to be able to do that.

"Tell me how you felt this morning, before I came to get you," he looked at me intently, our faces mere inches apart. He hesitated, before releasing his arms from around me, returning to just the hand.

"I felt...I felt trapped. I woke up and I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. What was the point of getting out of bed to repeat the same routine I have for years?" I noticed him moving again, faster this time.

"Keep going,"

I stared at his beautiful face as he spoke about how restricted he felt, how powerless he felt, until he finally was able to get his legs over the edge. His other hand gripped onto my wrist now, making a burning pain spread through my arm. How he had slightly pulled up my sleeve made him realise the skin wasn't smooth like his, and look down, holding my arm delicately in his hands. He gently pulled my sleeve up and took a peak, before pulling it back down and holding both of my hands instead, looking up at the sky.

"You don't have to do that, you know? There are other ways to deal with stress," I looked to my left, away from him.

"I'd like to see you trying being the head cheerleader and not hating yourself because you know, even though people in the school will say you're perfect, you'll know you're far from it," I felt his eyes on me, so I turned to look at him too.

"Those were recent. Tell me, next time. Promise," he held his pinky out and didn't break eye contact with me. I squeezed his pinky with mine, and looked back out.

"This must be what birds see. Flying at this height...I'd be a really shitty bird," I burst out laughing at this and so did he. "Could you imagine being as free as the birds are, just flying without a care in the world?" I smiled. I wasn't sure why, but I did. Maybe the idea of being able to fly away from this cruel town.

"Being a person, we have physical limitations, but just because you can't fly like birds can, doesn't mean you'll always feel this trapped," he was looking down at the roads.

"High school won't last forever—"

"Hey! You can't be up here!" I sighed and rolled my eyes at security. I took Taylor's hand and we both stood up, taking one last glance at the sky and the roads, before preparing to be told off.

"Thank you," Taylor whispered to me.

"Do you remember that, Taylor?" It's me squeezing his hand now. I need him, just as he needed me that night. Of course, I don't receive a reply, a look, a noise, anything.

"I'm sorry, Taylor. I'm sorry for what I let those jerks in high school do to you. I know that was something you were never able to fully let go." I picture him looking at me and telling me he loves me, or giving me a nasty look. Any reaction would be better than this.

"You were happy, we were happy. Come back to me, please. We'll go back to the hospital and we'll demand the chemo this time, no matter the costs. Just open your eyes," his eyes don't move. He doesn't move. It's like I'm frozen in time, watching him sleep peacefully, but this is so much worse than sleeping.

"Mrs York, are you ready?" It's a stupid question to ask. How will I ever be ready for something like this? There is no kiss goodbye, there is no 'last smile'. There is just my memory of him, leaving to go to his last concert with his friends also in the orchestra. There is me, watching him play his instrument with all the passion in him. Then there is darkness. Not physical darkness, a mental darkness that blinded me, and now I'm lost in the black.

I have to wrap this up now. I stare at his closed eyelids, praying for them to open once more. The slow beeping of the heart monitor being the only thing I can hear, knowing what will happen to the noise. I kiss his hand, then his forehead once more. I place his hand down onto his chest, which is barely rising and falling as it used to when he slept. I take one last look, then turn and leave. I stand facing the wall with all different people walking past me, listening to the flatline.