The sound of the crowd is loud, fans pushing up against the barricade the police have set up just for Taylor to get from the car to the studio. Karlie follows close behind, careful not to overwhelm her girlfriend in an already stressful situation, but close enough that if Taylor reaches back, Karlie can grab her hand. Occasionally, Taylor will pause and uncap the Sharpie in her hand to sign a few autographs, but each time she does, the sound of the crowd swells and Karlie can see the way Taylor’s shoulders tense. They’ve only paused two or three times, only when Taylor spots someone she can’t pass by without showing some love; young girls who were probably weren’t even born when Taylor Swift first dropped, teens and young adults who have lyrics tattooed on their bodies, those who look like they’d rather be anywhere else but are here because they love Taylor Swift.
Karlie keeps a careful eye as Taylor stops putting her Sharpie away and instead just starts signing albums and CDs and posters left and right. She glances down at her watch, careful of their tight schedule for the day, but Tree had accounted for Taylor’s desire to please crowds, because they don’t have to be in the studio for another ten minutes to meet with the makeup artists.
“Karlie! Karlie, over here!” a few shouts of her own name break through the crowd, but Karlie just smiles and waves. She’s never done the whole autograph thing, not even for the devout fashion followers, and she’s not about to start now.
She knows that she’s part of the reason the crowd is so big. With the re-release of albums, their relationship became impossible to hide - all by design, of course - and while it means she can show up to support Taylor at events, it also means things like a simple interview are never a simple interview.
Tree had set up a few interviews for this album, for Taylor to explain why things are different this time around, in the hopes that it quiets some of the fanatics on the internet, and while Karlie is hopeful, she knows how fickle people are about things like this. Karlie also knows her girlfriend takes things so personally, takes any criticism to heart, and already, Karlie knows how hard this album release is going to be.
She’d fought so hard, with Tree, with Republic, with Taylor herself at times, to push this back. Karlie had spent hours in meetings, trying to explain to money-hungry executives that Taylor needed a break, and they’d granted it; with conditions, of course.
The final two albums have to release this year - but not so closely that the albums compete with each other. They have to release with press, including talk show appearances and at least two magazine covers. Music videos for each album - luckily up to Taylor and her production team to create - but that means picking new singles.
So, here they are, trying to wrap up over eight months straight of album promotion. Luckily, Taylor had managed to find the loopholes in the label’s requirements, but still, she’s dragging, and Karlie is trying to delay the inevitable.
This is the last interview Taylor has to do before the least of her re-recorded albums comes out and Karlie is so incredibly grateful that The Colbert Show tapes in the afternoon and not live. She doesn’t think they would survive another late night, not after Jimmy Fallon and all the excitement that comes with a New York City late show.
Ahead of her, Taylor stumbles in her heels, and the motion brings Karlie out of her head. Immediately, her hand is on Taylor’s back, helping to steady her partner. She can nearly feel Taylor’s ribs under her palm, muscles rippling as Taylor activates her core to stay upright, and if Karlie didn’t know how much Taylor was eating, she’d be concerned; this isn’t a relapse, just a byproduct of being overworked.
Finally, they reach the doors to the studio, Brandon holding the door for them while Drew brings up the rear of their entourage. Tree is already there, typing away furiously on her phone with a look that would normally have Karlie on high alert, but as it is, she’s exhausted, just as much as Taylor is, so she doesn’t bother worrying about what might be brewing for Tree to be staring so harshly at her phone.
There’s an intern waiting for to take them through the maze of the CBS studios and Karlie is so grateful that they came with coffee. Lattes handed out, Taylor takes one sip and then starts asking her standard questions for any intern - do you like it, what do you want to do in your career, what are you studying, where do you go to school, etc. Karlie admires her partners ability to flip a switch, but she knows how much this takes out of Taylor.
Eventually, they make it through all of Taylor’s questions, just in time for them to arrive at the dressing room. With a flourish, Kai The Intern - the nickname already given by Taylor - opens the door. They’re greeted by a room with overhead lights turned off and Karlie can see a diet coke sitting on the vanity waiting for Taylor to pop the tab.
“We have about an hour until the taping starts. We’d like to do some social work before hand, so whenever you’re ready, let me know and I’ll get our social media team down here. Is there anything you need?” Kai The Intern asks.
“No, I think we’re good for now, thank you!” Taylor responds, voice pitching up to compensate for the exhaustion that colors her words.
Kai leaves with a nod, closing the door behind them, and then it’s just Karlie, Taylor, and Tree.
**
Karlie watches from backstage with Tree as Taylor answers questions about the album and her life. Each question has been carefully filtered, given to Taylor weeks ago so she could think through her answers, but Karlie can see the way Taylor balls her hands into fists to stop the shaking whenever she’s asked about anything other than the music.
She bites at her cuticles to keep herself from going to Taylor’s rescue, but she gives her girlfriend an encouraging nod when Taylor looks her way over her shoulder at a question that barely avoids talking about their relationship - despite Stephen’s friendship with Taylor, he’s still in the business of clicks, and nothing is more clickbait-y than Taylor Swift’s private life.
Tree wastes no time dragging them back to the dressing room as soon as Taylor’s stepped off the sound stage.
“There’s something we need to talk about.”
Karlie watches Tree closely, watches her face change from publicist to friend and back in the span of five seconds. Something has happened.
Taylor doesn’t see the change, falling onto the couch as soon as they make it back to the dressing room. She pats the space next to her, and like the dutiful partner Karlie is, she joins Taylor and tries not to let Tree’s face affect her. Taylor drops her head to Karlie’s shoulder as soon as she’s settled.
“Do you remember the stalker NYPD arrested a few months ago?” Tree asks, gentle in a way that she normally isn’t when on the job.
Karlie remembers. She and Taylor had to stay in LA for a few days longer than planned following the shooting of one of the new music videos because somebody had managed to break into Taylor’s midtown apartment in New York. It was a whole mess, and while there was no damage done and nothing was stolen, it meant that somebody had managed to invade their private space. They were already looking into other homes.
“One of the officers reported a disturbance outside, and Brandon thinks it could be related.”
Immediately, there’s a shift in Taylor. She’s up off the couch, pacing, before Karlie can even comprehend the words from Tree.
Somebody is outside, waiting for them.
“Drew is working on getting the car around, but we may not be able to get out without being seen. The building security are going to make an announcement that you’re not here anymore, which should hopefully clear out a lot of the crowd.”
Karlie, more worried about her girlfriend than the crowd, stands to intercept Taylor in her pacing. She’s careful, making sure Taylor can see her before she reaches out to grab onto Taylor’s shoulder, but even still, her girlfriend flinches the slightest bit at the contact. Immediately, Taylor folds into her arms, shaking like a chihuahua.
Carefully, Karlie tucks Taylor’s head under her chin, hoping to give her girlfriend a minute to center herself. She wraps her arms tightly around Taylor’s body, resting one palm on the back of Taylor’s ribs to feel her breathing while she rubs soothing circles into Taylor’s lower back with the other hand. Taylor breathes deeply, pushing hot air across Karlie’s chest, and after a few breaths, Karlie can feel her girlfriend become Taylor Swift™.
“When do we move out?” Taylor asks, untucking herself from Karlie and turning to face Tree.
“As soon as we can, but I can’t say when exactly that will be. It’s too risky.”
Taylor gives a stiff nod in response, thumb coming up to be caught between her teeth as she resumes her pacing. Karlie can do nothing but watch her girlfriend with barely concealed concern. There are contingencies in place for things like this - Karlie and Taylor both know the drill of what to do - but usually when they go over the action plans for potentially deadly scenarios, Taylor isn’t in the middle of what appears to be a period of burnout.
The signs have been building for a while, but Karlie’s warnings to Tree and Management have been ignored. They only care about the promotion of this new album and the overall numbers; Tree is a little more willing to listen to Karlie, but considering this is the last big push before the album drops this weekend, even Tree is stressed.
If it weren’t for such a strict schedule and such a strict enforcer (Tree), Karlie knows Taylor wouldn’t be able to find her own ass if it wasn’t part of her body. As she sits here, watching Taylor pace back and forth, Karlie is mentally preparing for a meltdown. She knows Taylor is running on fumes - four nights in a row this week Taylor didn’t come to bed until well after midnight - and Taylor’s been losing more of her vocabulary after each interview.
She looks closer at her girlfriend, taking stock in case tonight is the trigger, and she can see the shaking in Taylor’s arms where they wrap around her waist. Tonight is not going to be a good night. As casually as she can, Karlie pulls out her phone and sends a series of texts. The first goes to Gigi, asking if she can drop off some things to the apartment; the second is to Andrea, letting her girlfriend’s mom know what’s going on; the third and final text she sends is to the woman sitting across the room from her.
Taylor is so wrapped up in her own world, she doesn’t even realize there’s a conversation happening around her, and Karlie prefers it that way. Taylor is much easier to deal with when she thinks Karlie isn’t trying to take away her independence.
“Drew just texted. Leave anything that’s not necessary and the studio will drop it off later.”
Tree reaches Taylor before Karlie can, but soon enough the blonde is passed between them and Karlie leads Taylor through the hallways of the CBS building with a hand on her elbow. Drew meets them at the door they came in through earlier.
“We’ve got a clear shot to the car, but it’s about ten steps. Jeremy’s at the wheel and Brandon has your other side. Karlie will be right behind you and Tree is gonna meet us back at the apartment.”
They all wait for Taylor to give her nod of understanding, but Karlie knows the words barely managed to stick in Taylor’s brain. It’s written all over her face - the pinched brows of confusion and the way she bites at the corner of her lip. At the hesitation, both Drew and Tree turn to Karlie and she knows it’s her time to step up.
“Tay, baby? Did you hear Drew?” She asks, careful not to sound condescending, but she needs to know if Taylor can hear them. It takes a moment, but Taylor squeezes her hand three times. A few seconds later, Taylor moves to look over at Drew and nods.
As soon as they step out the door, Karlie knows something is off. The crowd has dissipated some, but there are still hundreds of phone cameras pointed in their direction. Their only saving grace is how close the studio doors are to Broadway.
Taylor doesn’t let go of her hand the whole way, even though they’re supposed to for safety, but Drew doesn’t comment so clearly some of Karlie’s warnings to Tree about a meltdown were passed on. They’re almost there, just a few steps more, and the door is already open, backseat waiting for them, when Taylor stumbles.
She goes down hard, knees hitting the asphalt, and Karlie nearly goes with her. It’s only her own height and quick reflexes that keep her off the ground, but she can see the scrapes on Taylor’s palms and knees. Karlie tries to pull Taylor off the ground but her girlfriend is dead weight. Whatever mask she had put on has clearly dissolved and all that’s left of Taylor is a shell.
“C’mon, bear,” Karlie begs. She bends down to pick up Taylor but Drew beats her to it and together, the two of them manage to get Taylor into the backseat of the car.
Karlie doesn’t know what to do. Taylor is totally checked out next to her in the car, bleeding and two seconds away from passing out and Karlie still has to get her inside the apartment and there’s bound to be paparazzi nearby just waiting for to capture the pictures of a scraped up Taylor.
The fifteen minutes in the car pass in a blur. It’s not until Jeremy is pulling into the garage at the penthouse that Karlie realizes they’re home. Her own adrenaline is crashing, but she has just enough in her system to worry about her girlfriend more than herself and she uses that push to get herself and Taylor out of the car.
“Can you walk, Tay?” she asks, voice soft. Her words fall on deaf ears, and she brings a hand up to run across Taylor’s cheek. Her girlfriend doesn’t even react to her touch, and Karlie knows she’s in for a long night.
“Do you need any help, Karlie?” Jeremy asks.
Drew already has the door open for them, checking the interior of the house, so he’s not around to help, and Karlie isn’t sure how Taylor would feel about having Jeremy touch her.
“No, we’ll be okay, thanks though, Jer.”
She takes her time, carefully slinging Taylor’s arm around her shoulder before sliding between Taylor’s legs so she can pick her up piggy-back style. It takes some manoeuvring, but eventually, Karlie manages to get them upstairs and to the bathroom. Her legs burn, not used to carrying Taylor up the stairs like this, but she pushes it to the back of her mind as she squats down to pull out the first aid kit.
When she looks closely at the scrapes on Taylor’s knees she winces. The streets of New York are by no means clean, but she always forgets how poorly kept the streets are. Dirt and small rocks stick to Taylor’s skin and Karlie kicks herself at not using a water bottle to clean out the wounds in the car.
“This is gonna sting, baby,” she warns Taylor even though Taylor doesn’t even seem aware that they’ve made it home.
As carefully as she can, Karlie wipes away the grime that’s embedded in the scrapes on Taylor’s knees and palms. She starts with just warm water, using the tweezers in the kit to pull out some of the more stubborn pieces of asphalt, before she goes in with the antiseptic wipes. The burn doesn’t even trigger a flinch from Taylor.
She makes quick work of the scrapes before she plugs the tub and starts some hot water from the faucet. All her materials end up in the trash, carefully wrapped up in the packaging from the wipes, and then she’s helping Taylor undress and climb into the warm bath. Taylor stares ahead with blank eyes and Karlie knows there’s not much she can do to help Taylor.
Burn out has been her biggest concern with the album promotion, and now that it’s here, all she can do patiently look after her girlfriend.
Taylor isn’t capable of much, right now, so Karlie sets a timer on her phone for ten minutes. Before she leaves, she drops a kiss to Taylor’s brow, whispers a quiet, “love you, I’ll be right back,” and then she goes off to change the sheets on the bed so they’re fresh and crisp. She moves about the bedroom as quietly as she can, careful to keep an ear out in case Taylor needs her, making sure that the room is rid of any and all sensory triggers.
The candles get taken to the guest room, the blackout curtains are drawn, and she makes sure the thermostat is set to a cool 68 so Taylor doesn’t overheat while cuddled under the weighted blanket. When her timer goes off, she grabs a pair of Taylor’s softest pajamas before making her way back to the bathroom.
In the tub, Taylor hasn’t moved more than pulling her knees up to her chest to rest her chin on them. The tips of her hair are wet, undoubtedly from when the water sloshed as Taylor moved.
“Do you wanna get out? Get cozy?” Karlie asks.
Taylor doesn’t respond but she does hold her hands up, silently asking to be helped out of the tub, and the motion reminds Karlie of her sisters’ kids. In this moment, Taylor looks more like a sad toddler than a world famous popstar.
“Okay, c’mon, bear. Let’s get you all nice and dry.”
Karlie’s heart tugs at the sight of her girlfriend looking so much like Benji after they give him a bath. She looks miserable and small, and all Karlie wants to do is pull Taylor into her arms, but she needs to get Taylor dressed first. Based on the lack of responses for Taylor, Karlie assumes her girlfriends’ brain has turned off, but she keeps telling Taylor what she’s going to do before she does it just to make sure Taylor is comfortable.
“Shirt now, Tay. Arms up for me?” It takes a second, but Taylor manages to lift her arms so Karlie can guide the tank top over her arms and pull it down Taylor’s body. “Shorts next, cutie, and then we’ll get some bandaids on those scrapes.”
It’s a slow process, getting Neosporin on the bandaids and making sure the worst parts of the scrapes are covered. They don’t look too bad, now that Karlie’s had some time to look at them, but it’s bad enough that Taylor’s going to be incredibly uncomfortable for the next few days while they heal. The worst scrap is on Taylor’s left hand on the meat of her thumb, and Karlie is so incredibly grateful that her girlfriend is so heavily right-handed.
With one arm wrapped around Taylor’s waist, Karlie guides her girlfriend out of the bathroom and helps her get under the covers. It’s only 4:30, and Karlie knows she’ll have to get out of bed to eat dinner at some point, but for now, she’s going to stay here with her girlfriend and make sure the adrenaline crash doesn’t end in tears.
Taylor doesn’t fall asleep, but Karlie knows even this little moment of rest will do wonders for calming down her nervous system for a while. They lay there in silence, and after an hour or so has passed, Karlie moves to grab her water bottle from the nightstand when Taylor makes her first attempt at contact since the CBS studios.
“Hurts,” Taylor mumbles, word half slurred with exhaustion.
The admission could mean so many different things, but if Taylor’s admitting to being in pain, whatever numbness from the last couple hours must be wearing off.
“What hurts, bug?” Karlie asks, voice barely a whisper. She signs the question too, just in case Taylor can’t hear her quite yet, fingers moving slowly and a little bit clumsily.
“World.”
One word answers are indicative, and Karlie files away the need to text Tree about not leaving the house for the next few days at minimum.
“I know,” Karlie empathises. She doesn’t really know how the world hurts for Taylor, but she does know what it’s like to be uncomfortable in a space, so she does her best to make Taylor comfortable.
Karlie slides out of bed, pushing a water bottle into Taylor’s space hoping that her girlfriend will take a few sips while she runs to the bathroom for some ibuprofen. She probably should’ve gotten the painkillers in her girlfriend before they laid down for the evening, but late is better than never. Hopefully, it will do enough to dull the physical pain so Taylor isn’t as overwhelmed.
“Here, Tay. Take these for me?” Taylor simply opens her mouth like a baby bird and Karlie drops one tiny pill in at a time until Taylor swallows both with water. She crawls back into bed and waits patiently to see what Taylor will do; if her girlfriend wants to cuddle, Karlie will open her arms and wrap her up tight. If Taylor wants to sleep alone, Karlie will give her all the space she needs, even if it hurts to leave her partner when she’s in pain.
As soon as her baby bird finishes her drink of water, she looks up at Karlie with such innocence that Karlie knows she won’t be leaving Taylor’s orbit for a while. Carefully, she pulls the weighted blanket up from the end of the bed and wraps her body around Taylor’s. Just as she feels Taylor start to fall asleep, breaths against her collarbone evening out, Karlie taps out a gentle I love you against the bone of Taylor’s hip where her hand rests.