Messy

The fundraiser was already packed by the time they arrived. The music was loud, neon lights flashed across the room, and the air buzzed with laughter and conversation. Bela tried to lose herself in it, in the warmth of her friends, the drinks, the temporary escape.

It almost worked.

Until she saw Taylor.

She stood near the bar, her hair tucked behind her ear, smiling at something someone said. Bela’s heart clenched. God, she was beautiful. Bela could almost stand there for the whole day just noticing every little thing Taylor did, by god Bela was down bad for this woman. But then she noticed something else—Taylor wasn’t alone.

Ash was there, standing just a little too close.

Bela froze.

“Hey, you okay?” Leighton’s voice was soft, but Bela barely heard her.

Because Taylor wasn’t moving away. She wasn’t frowning or looking uncomfortable.

She was laughing.

Bela’s stomach twisted.

She knew Taylor and Ash had broken. Knew they had a messy and complicated relationship. So why did it feel like a punch to the gut?.

“Bela?” Whitney asked now, stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” Bela lied, forcing a smile.

Whitney didn’t believe her. Neither did Leighton or Kimberly.Leighton was sadly too familiar with the look on Bela’s face, she understood without even needing to follow her gaze. But nonetheless they didn’t push. 

Not yet.

Bela tore her gaze away, swallowing hard. She wasn’t Taylor’s girlfriend. She had no claim to her, no right to feel like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet.

But it didn’t stop the ache.

Didn’t stop the way she suddenly felt too small, too invisible.

Someone handed her another drink. She downed it without question.

If Taylor was moving on—if she was giving Ash another chance—then Bela needed to let go.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it wrecked her.

Even if it meant admitting that Whitney and Leighton were right.

Even if it meant she’ll regret not telling Taylor her true feelings for the rest of her life.

Because in the end, it didn’t matter how badly she wanted Taylor.

She wasn’t hers to want.

Bela had lost count of how many drinks she’d had. That was the point. The burn in her throat, the dizzy haze in her mind—it was easier than feeling anything real. Easier than watching Taylor and Ash laughing together across the room like nothing had changed.

She should’ve left. Should’ve gone home and slept it off. But the alcohol made her reckless, made her limbs feel too light and her heart too heavy. And maybe that was why she found herself pushing through the crowd, heading straight for Taylor.

She wasn’t thinking.

Or maybe she was thinking too much.

Either way, by the time she reached her, Taylor was mid-conversation with someone Bela didn’t recognize. She barely registered them, barely cared.

“Bela?” Taylor’s voice was cautious, eyes scanning her face.

Bela swayed slightly, blinking up at her. “Having fun?”

Taylor frowned. “Are you drunk?”

Bela scoffed. “What does it matter?” She crossed her arms, her voice sharper than she intended. “You’re too busy with Ash to care.”

Taylor’s expression shifted—confusion first, then something like realization. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me.” Bela’s pulse pounded in her ears. “I thought you were done with her, Taylor.” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “But of course you’re not.” 

Taylor thinks this is because Bela had to pick the pieces up after Taylor relapsed after breaking up with ash.

Taylor looked around quickly, lowering her voice. “Bela, this isn’t the time—”

“No,” Bela cut in, words slurring together. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to look at me like I matter, spend all this time with me, and then just—” She gestured wildly toward Ash, her vision blurring. “Go back to her.”

Taylor’s brows furrowed. “That’s not what’s happening.”

Bela let out another hollow laugh. “Right. So what is happening? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re just waiting to fall back into the same toxic mess.”

Taylor’s jaw tensed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Bela’s voice wavered now, some of the anger cracking under the weight of something much heavier. “Because I think I do. I think I know exactly how this ends.” She swallowed hard. “You’ll keep going back to her, and I’ll be the idiot standing here, pretending it doesn’t kill me. Do you understand how scared I was the night you broke up?! No of course not, you only think of yourself. I still blame myself for not picking up the phone”

Taylor’s breath caught, her eyes wide. “Bela…”

But Bela didn’t wait for her to finish.

She turned and stumbled away, ignoring the way Taylor called her name.

Ignoring the way her chest ached, like she’d just ripped herself open and handed Taylor all the pieces.

Because that was the thing about alcohol. It made you honest.

And honesty hurt like hell.

Bela barely made it outside before the cold air hit her like a slap. She stumbled, the world tilting beneath her feet. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the distant thrum of music from the fundraiser.

She was so stupid.

Why did she have to say all of that? Why couldn’t she have just kept drinking, kept pretending that she didn’t care? Now Taylor knew. Now Taylor definitely knew.

“Bela!”

Her whole body stiffened.

She didn’t turn around, but she didn’t need to. She knew that voice. Knew the way it sent something warm and painful through her all at once.

Taylor.

“Go back inside,” Bela muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m sure Ash is looking for you.”

Taylor huffed in frustration. “Oh my God, will you stop?”

Bela let out a humorless laugh. “Stop what? Calling it like I see it?” She turned around, and the look on Taylor’s face nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. She looked worried. She looked hurt.

Bela hated it.

“I was not with Ash like that,” Taylor said, stepping closer. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah? Funny how it looked a lot like flirting.” Bela was too drunk, too raw to stop the words from spilling out. “But that’s what you two do, isn’t it? You break up, I pick up the pieces, you talk, and then you get back together.” She shook her head. “And I’m just the idiot who thought maybe this time would be different.”

Taylor blinked, her mouth slightly open like she was trying to process everything at once. “Bela… you like me?”

Bela laughed again, but it sounded more like a sob. “You seriously didn’t know?” She wiped at her eyes, hating herself for how wrecked she sounded. “God, I must be a joke to you.”

Taylor’s face softened, and that was worse. Bela didn’t want her pity. She wanted—God, she didn’t even know what she wanted anymore.

Taylor took another step forward, and Bela took one back.

“I can’t do this,” Bela whispered.

Taylor frowned. “Do what?”

“This.” She gestured between them, voice trembling. “Wanting you. Knowing you’re never gonna choose me.”

Taylor’s expression shattered. “That’s not fair.”

Bela let out a shaky breath. “Neither is feeling like this.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, the distance between them filled with everything Bela wished she hadn’t said.

Then Bela turned and walked away.

And this time, Taylor didn’t call her back.

Bela didn’t remember much after walking away.

She remembered stumbling down the sidewalk, her head spinning, her stomach churning. She remembered the burn of alcohol still in her throat, the distant sound of laughter and music from the fundraiser fading behind her.

She didn’t remember how she got here.

Didn’t remember how she ended up slumped on a bench, her body heavy, her mind sluggish.

Didn’t remember the group of guys surrounding her now, their laughter low and mean.

“She’s out of it,” one of them snickered.

“Too many drinks, huh? Maybe we should help her out.”

Bela tried to move, tried to tell them to leave her alone, but her limbs didn’t cooperate. Her vision blurred, her stomach lurched.

She was too far gone.

Too helpless.

Then—

“Back the fuck off.”

The voice sliced through the haze, sharp and furious.

Bela blinked slowly, her head rolling to the side just in time to see Taylor shoving her way through the group.

Bela didn’t notice that Taylor had watched her walk away. Watched as the group of frat boys stalked closer. She had a bad feeling so she followed and thank god she did.

Taylor looked furious.

“You her girlfriend or something?” one of the guys sneered, stepping in Taylor’s way.

Taylor didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I am. And you’re gonna walk away before I make you.”

The guy smirked. “Relax, sweetheart, we were just talking to her.”

“She’s not conscious enough to talk,” Taylor snapped. Her fists clenched at her sides. “So I’ll say it again. Back. Off.”

Bela tried to say something—anything—but the world tilted, and her body swayed.

One of the guys reached for her.

Bela’s stomach lurched.

A fist connected with Taylor’s stomach, and she doubled over with a choked gasp.

But she didn’t go down.

Gritting her teeth, she twisted away, barely breaking free from the grip of the guy who had grabbed her. Another frat boy swung at her, but she ducked just in time, his punch missing by inches.

They were sloppy—drunk and slow—but there were too many of them.

Bela tried to move, tried to do something, but her body felt useless, her vision spinning.

Taylor pivoted on her heel, countering with a brutal right hook. The guy’s head snapped back, a string of curses spilling from his mouth as he staggered.

“Bitch,” another one snarled before lunging at her.

Taylor braced herself, shifting into a defensive stance. The punch came hard and fast, aimed straight for her ribs. She twisted, but not fast enough.

The impact sent a shockwave of pain through her torso.

She clenched her jaw, refusing to let it slow her down.

Not with Bela here.

Not with these assholes surrounding her.

The guy reared back for another hit—

Taylor reacted instinctively. She dodged left, letting his momentum carry him forward, then grabbed his arm and twisted hard. A sharp yelp escaped him before she drove her knee into his gut, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.

“Motherfucker,” another guy hissed before tackling her.

Taylor hit the ground hard, the breath whooshing out of her lungs.

Pain flared across her back, but she rolled before he could pin her down, shoving him off and scrambling to her feet.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

Something heavy slammed into the back of her knees, taking her legs out from under her.

Taylor crashed onto the pavement, her palms scraping against the rough concrete.

Fuck.

Before she could push herself up, a boot drove into her ribs.

She gasped—her vision flashing white-hot with pain.

Another kick landed against her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs.

Her limbs felt sluggish, her body screaming in protest. She tried to move, tried to fight, but hands grabbed her, forcing her onto her back.

One of the guys crouched over her, pinning her down with his weight.

She struggled, thrashing beneath him, but he was stronger.

“Not so tough now, huh?” he sneered, his fist drawing back.

Taylor braced herself.

Then—

“Enough!”

A new voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through the chaos.

The guy hesitated, fist still hovering above her face.

“Campus security is coming,” the voice continued. “Unless you want to get expelled, I’d walk away now.”

That did it.

The frat guys swore under their breath but let go of her. The one on top of her lingered a second longer before spitting at the ground beside her. “Fuckin dykes”.

Then they were gone.

Taylor sucked in a shaky breath, every inch of her body screaming in pain. Her ribs ached, her knuckles burned, and her jaw throbbed. She could still taste blood in her mouth.

But she forced herself up.

Because Bela was still there.

“Hey, hey, I got you.”

Her voice wavered as she stumbled to Bela’s side, her hands shaking.

Bela was barely conscious, her body slumped against the bench.

Taylor’s heart clenched painfully.

Without thinking, she scooped Bela up into her arms, ignoring the fire in her ribs.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, voice thick with exhaustion and something heavier. “I’ve got you.”

Bela’s head lolled against her shoulder, her body going limp in Taylor’s arms.

Taylor swallowed hard and started walking.

She didn’t look back.

Bela woke up to a pounding headache and the unmistakable scent of Taylor’s hoodie.

Wait.

She cracked her eyes open. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, but she recognized the space.

Taylor’s dorm.

She groaned, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her skull. “Ow.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you drink yourself into oblivion.” She mumbled, she didn’t seem happy. Bela isn't sure if it’s due to the memory’s of her relapsed hangovers or if Bela did something last night.

Bela turned her head—immediately regretted it—but managed to focus enough to see Taylor sitting in a chair beside the bed.

A bruise darkened her jaw. A black eye. A split lip. Knuckles red and swollen. And she’s clearly in pain as she winces when she breathes.

Bela’s stomach twisted.

“What… what happened?” Her voice was hoarse.

Taylor exhaled slowly. “You don’t remember?”

Bela frowned. There were flashes—walking away, the bench, the frat guys—

Her stomach dropped.

Taylor must have seen the realization hit because she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You were really out of it, Bela.” Her voice was quiet, careful. “I got there just in time.”

Guilt hit like a freight train.

“You got hurt,” Bela rasped, her throat tight.

Taylor let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t exactly gonna let them touch you.”

Bela clenched her jaw, looking away. “You shouldn’t have had to fight for me.”

Taylor was silent for a moment. Then—

“You think I was just gonna leave you there?” Her voice was sharp, edged with something raw. “Jesus, Bela, I—” She cut herself off, running a hand through her hair.

Bela swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Taylor let out a slow breath. “Just… don’t ever do that again, okay?”

Bela hesitated trying to lighten the mood. “Drink?”

Taylor’s jaw clenched. “Walk away from me like that.”

Bela’s breath caught.

She met Taylor’s gaze—dark, unreadable, hurt.

And just like that, last night’s words crashed back over her.

“I can’t do this. Wanting you. Knowing you’re never gonna choose me.”

Bela looked away. “I was drunk.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t mean it,” Taylor countered.

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Taylor sighed. “Look, I don’t know what you think is happening with Ash, but I swear to you—I’m not going back to her.”

Bela inhaled shakily. “Then why were you with her?”

Taylor hesitated, then rubbed a hand over her face. “Because she wanted closure. And I wanted to give it to her. To end things the right way.”

Bela blinked. “So… it’s over?”

Taylor met her gaze, steady and sure. “It was over a long time ago.”

Bela’s heart slammed against her ribs.

She was too hungover for this.

Too vulnerable.

And Taylor—bruised, exhausted, and still here—was making it very, very hard to breathe.

“…You should get some rest,” Taylor murmured, standing up. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Bela didn’t know why those words made her chest ache.

But she closed her eyes, let herself sink back into the warmth of Taylor’s bed.

It smelled like Taylor, it was comforting.

Taylor watched as the taller girl sank back into her bed like it was her own. 

Her heart hurt. She was torn. She really liked Bela but Bela was drunk. She didn’t know what she was saying. Plus it’s not like Bela liked girls, and that’s not something she wanted to do again…

She turned around to look in the mirror. God she looked rough. It was evident she got no sleep. She had a black eye, split lip, bruised jaw, her knuckles and palms were cracked and bloody still. 

She lifted her shirt tenderly to reveal her toned stomach sporting a huge bruise right under left ribs. She winced and pushed her shirt back down.

She grabbed the rubbing alcohol.

This was gonna hurt

She pressed the cloth to the alcohol then to her knuckles. She hissed in pain and held her breath.

She pulled the cloth away, her once white cloth stained red from her bloodied knuckles, half her blood half some dirtbag frat boy. 

She smirked at the thought but looked at Bela reminding herself of what would’ve happened if she wasn’t there.

She cringed, fuck. 

It was her turn to take care of Bela—push her feelings to the side.