Messy

Taylor arrives at Ash’s house, her arms heavy with bags, but her heart lighter than it’s been in a while. Ash helps her unpack, teasing her about the absurd amount of makeup she owns.

“How do you even use half of this?” Ash laughs, holding up a mysterious-looking brush.

Taylor giggles, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t get it.”

They’re still joking when Taylor’s phone buzzes. She barely glances at the screen before her face falls, the warmth in her eyes draining in an instant. Her heart sinks so fast it nearly knocks the breath out of her.

Ash notices immediately. “Hey, Taylor? You okay?”

She isn’t. She really, really isn’t. Her aunt just texted. Her mother is getting married tomorrow. A mother she hasn’t spoken to in so long that it shouldn’t matter—but it does. It does so much that it hurts.

“I need to go on a walk,” Taylor mumbles, already reaching for her jacket.

“If you need company, I can—”

“No! No, I need to be alone.” The words come out sharper than she means them to, but she can’t take them back.

Ash doesn’t push, just watches as Taylor walks out the door, her silhouette disappearing into the cool evening air.

Taylor walks aimlessly, her mind a hurricane of emotions. The weight of everything crashes into her all at once—her mother, Bela, this entire mess of a situation. She pulls out her phone, debating whether to call Bela. Maybe hearing her voice will help.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The call disconnects. Bela hung up on her.

Taylor stops walking, standing frozen on the sidewalk as a new kind of pain seeps into her bones. Bela really hates her now, doesn’t she? But all she did was move. Can she really hate me for that?

Her throat tightens, and when she looks up, she sees a liquor store ahead. A sign? A curse? She doesn’t know.

She does know one thing—she can’t handle this sober.

The bell chimes as she steps inside. The air smells like stale cigarettes and cheap alcohol. She grabs a 70cl bottle of vodka, barely looking at the cashier as she hands over the cash.

“Just this,” she mutters.

The moment she steps outside, tears spill over. The bottle feels heavy in her grip, but not heavier than the weight in her chest.

She finds a park nearby and drops onto a cold metal bench. The bottle sits beside her, unopened. Her leg bounces anxiously.

“FUCK!” she yells into the empty night, voice cracking. Why does her mother always have to ruin things? Why does she always have to feel like this? Why can’t she just be okay?

She doesn’t think anymore. She twists the cap off, brings the bottle to her lips, and drinks. The burn in her throat is a twisted kind of comfort.

One sip turns into two. Then five. Then the whole bottle is gone, discarded behind the bench as she stumbles home.

—

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Ash groggily pulls herself up, frowning as the knocking continues. When she opens the door, a very drunk Taylor practically collapses into her arms.

“Ashhh,” Taylor slurs, mascara streaked down her face.

Ash’s stomach twists. “Taylor? Are you drunk?”

Taylor chuckles, the sound hollow. “Noo, of course not, baby.”

Ash frowns, pulling Taylor inside and holding her upright. “Where did you go?” There’s a mix of concern and frustration in her voice.

Taylor shrugs, stumbling slightly. “God, calm down. I just went to the store.”

Ash sighs, watching Taylor struggle to stand. She pulls out her phone. “Do you want me to call Bela?”

Taylor’s reaction is immediate. Her hand flies out, knocking Ash’s phone from her grasp. It clatters to the floor with a sharp crack.

“NO!”

Ash stares at her in shock. “What the fuck, Taylor? I was just asking—”

Taylor squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I want to break up.”

The words hang in the air, irreversible.

Ash’s expression shifts, pain flickering in her eyes. “W-what?”

“I—I was gonna tell you, but I didn’t know,” Taylor stammers. “I just… I don’t know when I realized. God, I would’ve never—” She doesn’t even know what she’s tryna say.

“Please leave.”

Ash’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through Taylor like a knife.

“W-what?”

“Taylor, leave. You can get your stuff tomorrow. I just… I need to be alone right now.”

The finality in Ash’s tone stings more than Taylor expects. But she doesn’t argue. She just stumbles out the door, into the night, into nowhere.

—

The frat house is loud, packed with sweaty bodies and music that vibrates through the floor. Taylor doesn’t care.

“Just—uh, I don’t know. I wanna get fucked up. Do as you wish,” she tells the guy behind the bar.

He eyes her for a second before pouring a concoction of vodka, rum, and whiskey into a glass with Coke. It’s disgusting, but she chugs it anyway.

Outside, she finds a bench on the porch. There’s a cooler full of beers beside her, so she takes that as an invitation. One. Two. Three. By the time she finishes, her stomach twists in protest.

She barely makes it outside before she’s throwing up into a bush. It burns her throat as she throws up. Her mind flicking back to all her other relapses oh how she yearns to be “normal” and able to know when to stop drinking.

A warm hand presses against her back, another gently holding her hair. The touch is so soft, so familiar. But she’s too far gone to register it.

When she finally straightens, wiping her mouth, she grabs her drink to drown out the taste. But before she can take a sip, the bottle is snatched from her grasp and tossed into the darkness.

Annoyed, she turns—only to meet Bela’s eyes.

Her breath catches.

Bela looks at her with something unreadable—concern, disappointment, maybe both.

Taylor tries to walk past her still bitter from Bela hanging up on her in her moment of desperation (not that she blames Bela), but Bela gently grabs her wrist.

“Taylor,” Bela says softly, voice laced with worry. “I thought you were fine. I trusted you.”

Taylor’s resolve crumbles. Tears spill over, silent but unstoppable.

Then she collapses into Bela’s arms.

Bela doesn’t hesitate. She holds her close, stroking her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay,” she whispers over and over. “You’re okay now.”

“I-I fucked up,” Taylor chokes out. “I should’ve listened to you. You were right.”

Bela exhales, tightening her arms around her. “Taylor what happened?” Bela knows she should’ve picked up the phone earlier. She feels so guilty, this wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t so stubborn and actually picked up the phone. Whatever actually happened must’ve been big enough for Taylor to react this way.

“We-we broke up” Taylor messily spits out. She chokes on her own sobs. Bela wants to tell her she told her so but she knows it’s not the time. She just holds Taylor tighter. She comes to realize this means Taylor has nowhere to stay. 

“Want to come back to my dorm?” Bela only registers how cold Taylor actually is. She’s shivering in her arms. Taylor just looks up and nods, her eyes flick to her lips then to her eyes. She’s using all she has in her to stop herself from kissing Bela, but she really doesn’t want to lose another person today.