Messy

Taylor exhales, a slow, shuddering breath, and lets herself sink into Bela’s embrace. Her body is warm, heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Grounded. Like she doesn’t have to hold everything together on her own.

Bela shifts slightly, adjusting their position so that Taylor can rest against her chest more comfortably. “Lie down,” she murmurs, guiding Taylor gently onto the bed. Taylor doesn’t resist—she just curls into Bela, pressing her face into the crook of her neck, her fingers curling into the fabric of Bela’s hoodie like she’s afraid she might disappear if she lets go.

Bela’s heart stutters.

She lets her hand drift up, threading her fingers through Taylor’s damp hair, soothing and slow. Taylor lets out a soft, content hum at the touch, her breathing evening out little by little. Bela’s never seen her like this—so unguarded, so vulnerable—and the realization that Taylor trusts her enough to fall apart in her arms sends something warm and aching through her chest.

Taylor shifts slightly, voice muffled against Bela’s skin. “You smell good,” she mumbles, half-asleep already.

Bela huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s the exhaustion talking.”

“Mmm, no,” Taylor insists sleepily. “’S nice… vanilla… and you…” Her words slur together as her grip on consciousness weakens, her body growing even heavier against Bela’s.

Bela just holds her closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers.

And this time, Taylor believes her.

Within minutes, she’s asleep, her breath warm against Bela’s collarbone.

Bela stays awake for a little while longer, just watching her—watching the way her lashes flutter slightly in sleep, the way her fingers remain curled into the fabric of Bela’s hoodie like a silent promise.

She knows they have so much to talk about. So much to figure out.

But for now, she just holds her.

And she knows, without a doubt, that she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

Bela wakes up to warmth. A solid weight pressed against her, slow and steady breathing tickling her collarbone. For a moment, she forgets where she is—until she opens her eyes and sees Taylor, still wrapped around her like she’s something safe.

Taylor.

Bela’s breath catches.

The room is quiet, bathed in soft morning light filtering through the blinds. Taylor’s face is peaceful, lips slightly parted, brows relaxed in sleep. She looks so different like this—so far from the sharp, reckless girl Bela’s used to seeing on campus.

But then it all comes rushing back.

Last night. The drunken slur in Taylor’s voice. The empty look in her eyes. The vodka bottle discarded in the park.

The way she collapsed into Bela’s arms like she was breaking.

Bela swallows hard, guilt pressing against her ribs. She should’ve picked up the phone. She should’ve been there before Taylor reached for the bottle.

Taylor shifts against her, a soft noise escaping her throat as she stirs. Then, slowly, bleary blue eyes flutter open.

For a moment, neither of them say anything.

Then Taylor blinks, gaze flicking around the room like she’s trying to piece together how she got here. Her body tenses. “Shit,” she croaks, voice hoarse. She tries to sit up, but immediately winces, squeezing her eyes shut.

Bela sighs. “Hangover?”

Taylor groans, rubbing at her temples. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bela watches her for a moment, then shifts to sit up as well, careful not to let too much space form between them. “I’ll get you water.”

Taylor nods mutely, gaze still unfocused.

Bela slips out of bed, grabbing a bottle from her mini-fridge before sitting back down beside Taylor. She watches as Taylor takes a small sip, wincing at the movement.

Silence stretches between them. Not the comfortable kind from last night—this one is heavier. Full of things left unsaid.

Bela takes a deep breath. “Taylor.”

Taylor exhales, already looking away. “Don’t.”

“No,” Bela says firmly. “I let it go last night, but I need you to be honest with me. What happened?”

Taylor shakes her head, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“Too bad.” Bela shifts closer, searching her face. “You called me, Taylor. I know you don’t just—just break like that for no reason.”

Taylor clenches her jaw.

Bela reaches out, hesitating before gently taking Taylor’s hand. “Please.”

Taylor’s fingers twitch beneath hers. For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything.

Then, finally, she exhales, voice barely above a whisper.

“My mom.”

Bela’s stomach drops.

Taylor lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “She’s getting married. Tomorrow.”

Bela waits, not pushing, just holding space for Taylor to continue.

“I shouldn’t care,” Taylor mutters, voice bitter. “She was never really a mother to me. Barely even a person in my life. But when I got that text… it just—” She cuts herself off, eyes shining with something raw.

Bela squeezes her hand. “It hurt.”

Taylor nods once, barely perceptible. Then she swallows, her throat working around the movement like she’s trying to hold back everything at once.

“I don’t know why it messed me up so bad,” she admits, voice strained. “I just—God, I felt like I was drowning. And the only thing I could think of was—” She breaks off, blinking hard.

Bela already knows the answer.

Alcohol.

Her chest tightens.

Taylor lets out a slow breath, rubbing at her temple. “It was stupid. I was stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid,” Bela says immediately. “You were hurting.”

Taylor shakes her head. “That’s not an excuse.”

“No,” Bela agrees softly. “But it’s a reason.”

Taylor doesn’t say anything, just stares down at their joined hands like she’s trying to decide if she deserves the comfort.

Bela hesitates. “Was it just about your mom?”

Taylor tenses. Just for a second, but Bela sees it.

A beat of silence.

Then Taylor exhales, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “No.”

Bela’s stomach twists. She knew it.

Taylor’s fingers tighten around her sleeves, voice quieter when she speaks again. “I broke up with Ash.”

Bela’s breath catches.

She should’ve expected it—after what Taylor said last night, after the way she kissed her like she was something inevitable. But hearing it out loud is different.

She swallows. “When?”

Taylor finally looks at her. “Yesterday.”

Bela’s heart clenches.

Taylor lets out a short, humorless laugh. “It was a fucking disaster.” She shakes her head, jaw clenching. “I didn’t even mean to do it. I just—I saw her, and all I could think about was how wrong it felt. How wrong it’s felt for a while now. And then the words just… came out.”

Bela watches her carefully. “What did she say?”

Taylor lets out a sharp exhale. “She was pissed. And hurt. Which—I mean, fair, right? I blindsided her.”

Bela stays quiet, letting her go at her own pace.

Taylor looks down at her hands

Bela swallows hard.

Taylor exhales. “I should’ve broken up with her weeks ago. Before it got this messy.”

Bela watches the way Taylor’s fingers grip the fabric of her hoodie, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

After a long pause, she reaches out, resting her hand over Taylor’s.

Taylor stiffens—but she doesn’t pull away.

Bela squeezes gently. “You did the right thing.”

Taylor laughs, short and bitter. “Did I?”

“Yes.” Bela’s voice is firm. “Staying with someone when your heart isn’t in it—that would’ve been worse.”

Taylor looks at her, something raw flickering behind her tired eyes. “It still feels shitty.”

“I know,” Bela murmurs.

Taylor watches her for a long moment. Then, cautiously, she turns her hand over, letting their fingers interlace.

Bela’s breath catches.

Taylor swallows, voice small. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Bela tightens her grip. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

Taylor stares at her like she doesn’t quite believe it.

But for the first time in a long time, she wants to.

Taylor is quiet for a long time after that. Not the broken kind of quiet from last night, but something different—thoughtful, guarded. The vulnerability that had cracked through her walls is still there, but Bela can already see her pulling herself back together, piece by piece.

It’s not surprising. Taylor has always been good at acting like she’s fine, even when she’s anything but.

But Bela isn’t buying it.

She watches as Taylor shifts on the bed, finally stretching her legs out in front of her like she’s shaking off the conversation entirely. Then, just like that, Taylor exhales sharply and gives Bela a crooked smirk—forced, but still there.

“So,” she drawls, tilting her head. “You gonna pretend like you don’t love waking up to me, or are we just skipping over that part?”

Bela blinks, then scoffs. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Taylor grins, but there’s a flicker of something unsure in her eyes. “You’re telling me this isn’t the highlight of your year?”

“Highlight?” Bela deadpans. “Taylor, you showed up blackout drunk in the middle of the night and then proceeded to steal my bed. And my hoodie.” She gestures at the oversized sleeves swallowing Taylor’s hands.

Taylor lifts her arms, inspecting the fabric, then shrugs. “It’s a good hoodie. Smells nice. I’m keeping it, by the way.”

Bela gapes at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Taylor leans back against the headboard, smirk widening. “Consider it a tax for emotional damages.”

Bela lets out a sharp laugh, but the relief that floods through her is immediate. This—this teasing, self-assured version of Taylor—is familiar. It’s not that last night didn’t happen, or that Taylor isn’t still raw from everything, but she’s already trying to reclaim herself.

Bela softens.

“Fine,” she sighs, dramatically flopping onto her back. “Keep the damn hoodie. But I expect visitation rights.”

Taylor lifts an eyebrow. “Visitation rights?”

“Yeah.” Bela turns her head to look at her. “I want scheduled meetings. Biweekly. Maybe a rotating custody agreement—”

“Oh my god,” Taylor groans, throwing a pillow at her.

Bela yelps, but she’s grinning when she catches it.

Taylor watches her for a beat, something unreadable flickering behind her expression. Then, before Bela can say anything else, Taylor nudges her foot against hers under the blanket. It’s small, subtle, but it makes Bela’s stomach flip.

“So,” Taylor says, her voice quieter now. “You really meant what you said earlier?”

Bela glances at her. “Which part?”

“The part where you said we’ll do this together.”

Bela shifts onto her side, resting her head in her palm. “Yeah, Taylor. I meant it.”

Taylor searches her face for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through her messy blonde hair. “You’re really gonna regret signing up for that.”

Bela hums. “Doubt it.”

Taylor smirks. “You say that now.”

“Uh-huh.” Bela gives her a look. “I survived last night, didn’t I?”

Taylor grins. “Barely.”

“Whatever.” Bela rolls her eyes. “I’ve handled worse.”

Taylor’s grin falters slightly. “Yeah?”

Bela doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then Taylor nods, like she’s finally allowing herself to believe it.

“Alright,” she says, stretching her arms over her head. “But I’m still keeping the hoodie.”

Bela groans.

But she doesn’t argue.