Work Text
You were starting to second-guess your decision to go to the studio for
an album release party
as Jack had said. You had been avoiding the studio like plague after the demise of your four year long relationship, knowing a certain blonde is known to frequent there.
It had been
your
preferred studio initially, but you had begrudgingly started going to another studio as you knew she would be there, and running into her again would make all your attempts in moving on from her, futile.
You pulled your jacket closer to you as you exited the uber to Electric Lady Studios. You were immediately greeted by the phones and bright flashes from the paparazzi and fans alike and you could already see the headlines that were going to appear tomorrow.
Taylor Swift’s Ex-girlfriend Looking To Rekindle Flames With The Popstar?
They had always painted you as a bitter ex looking for a free handout to help boost your own career, which could have been further from the truth. You had co-wrote a few pieces of music with her under a pen name for this exact reason. And it wasn’t really fair that the media made it seem like you were desperate to get her back. She has broken up with you and that was that.
You push past the large crowd and make your way into the studio. It looked just as it did before you had to make the switch and truthfully, you had missed the atmosphere of it all. You had grown close to the staff there during your late night sessions, so much so that you and Taylor would often bring her bakes to share with them, but that was a relic of another time.
“Fucking finally about time you made it.” Jack scoffed, but you could hear the glee in his voice. You turned your head towards the steps as he made his way down. You rolled your eyes at the statement. You’ve been trying to avoid this particular circle of people too since they were
Taylor’s
friends first and had accepted you into their friend group by proxy since you were dating. But Jack's incessant begging and pleading for you to come tonight had finally made you cave in.
“I’m gonna turn around right now and go straight home.”
“I know you love me.” he says and childishly sticks his tongue out.
“I don’t actually.”
He rolls his eyes but pushes you in the direction of the steps to head up to the rooftop area where the party was currently held. But before you’re about to reach the top, he motions for you to bend down to his level as the music starts to get louder.
“She’s here too. Play nice.” he not-so-subtly whispers.
Now you’re beginning to get annoyed.
“I AM nice. She’s the one who starts it.” you retort.
“Still. You know how she is.” and that you did. Even after time apart, you often catch yourself moping about in the privacy of your own home after watching clips of her at the Chiefs games or whenever she’s out with her new football boyfriend and find that you can still read her body language and her facial expressions. The small crease in her brow when she’s upset about something but would never speak up, the way the edges of her mouth threaten to lift before it breaks out into a full grin or the way you can tell how tired she is by the way she slouches into the chair. You wonder if she remembers these things about you too.
As you make your way into the crowd, you see so many faces. Some who you recognise, and some that you don’t. Your hands start to feel empty as you make a beeline for the bar. You were going to need alcohol to get through this night.
“A martini, please. Actually, make it two. Thank you.”
As you reach to grab your drinks from the bartender, you see a body slide into the seat beside you.
“Hey, you. It’s been a while.”
You had immediately known it was Taylor before she even started speaking. You nod wordlessly, not wanting to engage in a conversation, and especially not with her. She notes your silence, but continues to talk anyways to ease the tension.
“So I take it that Jack asked you to come?”
And to that, you could only muster another nod as you gingerly take sips from your martini, but ultimately decide to gulp it down as you realise you cannot be sober for whatever conversation you’re about to have with her.
“So how’s work? Any new projects coming up?” she asks, trying to keep the conversation light.
“It’s great, but there’s nothing new.”
She sighs and rubs her face with her hands at your curt one word responses.
“Okay, so this is a little awkward…” she laughs nervously.
“Well, you approached me first so I’m not sure how you expected this to go, Taylor. But excuse me.” you begin to make your way to the bathroom, leaving your drinks and her at the bar.
You try to not let this interaction get to you. You are both grown adults and you can totally handle bumping into your ex who you totally do not still have feelings for. You rest your elbows on the edge of the sink as you splash the cold water onto your face, hoping that if this was a bad dream, you’d wake up soon. You take a deep breath, trying to school your features to some semblance of calm.
You hear the creak of the doorknob as it turns and someone enters as well.
Of fucking course it’s her. And whatever she has to say again, you don’t really want to hear it.
“Uh. I feel like we should, you know, talk.” she starts. You turn the faucet on and begin scrubbing your hands while you continue to glare at the floor.
“Then talk, Taylor. I don’t have time to play your games with you.” you sigh, exasperated. You could be curled up in bed, with a shitty rom-com playing in the background while you doom scrolled on TikTok. Instead you’re here in a bathroom which suddenly feels impossibly small, with an ex you were trying to move on from, telling you she wants to talk. At least she has the decency to look slightly apologetic.
She turns behind her and flicks the lock of the door.
“Taylor. What are you doing?”
“You said to talk, and I can’t risk anyone barging in and listening to every word, can I?”
You swallow back a retort and look at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
“I don’t know what to say to be honest. I’ve thought about the idea of bumping into you somewhere so many times and getting to talk to you again. But finally seeing you in person after everything feels so different, you know.”
“Taylor… Just cut to the chase.” you say, hoping she doesn’t hear the desperate plea in your voice for her to wrap it up so you can go home to try and forget her all over again. It took almost everything in you to move on from her the first time and even then, she was still consuming most of your thoughts. Now that she’s here again, you fear it’ll take a lifetime to forget the way she looks at you with her piercing blue eyes, and how she’s looking at you like she used to.
“Just between us, you don’t miss me at all? I miss you.” she blurts out.
There. She’s said it, and now it’s out there.
She’s anxiously chewing on her bottom lip waiting for your response.
“Taylor, you have a boyfriend. You shouldn’t miss me.” you start.
I miss you too.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” she says. You scoff at that. She is unbelievable.
“Doesn’t have to mean anything? Taylor, are you serious?” Now, you were absolutely sure you had to leave. You could feel your resolve start to crack as she’s saying things she doesn’t mean. She’s drunk and you’re tipsy. She’ll go back to her new boyfriend and you’ll go back to your own life. You can go home and forget this ever happened.
You move past her and make your way towards the door to unlock it. As your hand flicks the lock on the door, she’s one step ahead and reaches ahead to lock the door again. She leans on the door and crosses her arm over her chest, a frown etched on her face.
“Taylor, seriously, step away from the door. I’m not playing around.”
“You said we could talk but this is hardly a talk at all. I said I missed you, you say nothing back and you start telling me how I should feel!” she snapped as her frustration boiled over.
Your jaw clenched as you tried to hold your tongue. The room falls into silence and it suddenly feels too stuffy and you’re struggling to keep your breathing even as you seethe.
“Taylor, let’s get the facts laid out. You broke up with ME and not the other way round. And I was hurting and I am still trying to move on. And it doesn’t help when you corner me and start saying things like that. Do you know how hard you are to forget? You’re here in my personal space, you’re at every music event, your tour is all what anyone talks about. You’re here, there and everywhere. And it’s hard. Because truthfully? I don't want to forget about you, or us.”
Taylor winced, suddenly feeling very bad for trapping you in here. She had taken the break-up hard too, but she had selfishly never considered how bad it had been for you.
A knock on the door startles the both of you as you jump away from each other.
“Hey! Whoever’s in there, could you hurry up please? I really need to pee.” the voice on the other side of the door slurred.
You smooth down your shirt and readjust your skirt to make sure whoever was on the other side would know that absolutely
nothing
happened in the bathroom, because you and Taylor would inevitably have to come out at the same time.
You flick the lock of the bathroom door while turning around to pin Taylor down with a glare to make sure she doesn’t try anything again, and you leave the bathroom only to bump into Sabrina.
“Oh, hi! I would love to stay and chat but I really need to pee.” she says. You let out a giggle at her words and move aside for her to enter the bathroom. But you forget to mention that Taylor is in the bathroom as well. Sabrina turns to enter the bathroom and bumps right into Taylor who lets out a yelp at the sudden collision.
Sabrina goes wide eyed and looks between you and Taylor for a moment.
“So, uh, you two are back together?”
Your face flushes bright red as you shake your head ‘no’ before turning it to look at Taylor who looks down at her feet and says nothing at all.
“Well, right, okay, I'm going to go pee and you both should figure it out.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sabrina enters the bathroom, leaving just you and Taylor in the cramped hallway. She still has her gaze on the floor, and you really want to let out a laugh at the absurdity of it all, and so you do. At this, she looks up incredulously with a puzzled expression on her face. “See! This is exactly why I told you to lock the door. And now Sabrina thinks there’s an ‘us’ again, and she’s going to tell everyone else. Oh my god, how do I explain to people that I essentially locked us in the bathroom together without making it sound like we were doing something!” she exclaimed. You immediately clamp your hand over her mouth before she can continue her rant. You weren’t sure who was invited to this party, and you surely hope no one was close enough to eavesdrop. You did not want this story to make headlines tomorrow. “You say you don’t want people to know, but you’re basically screaming! You need to relax," you sigh. She visibly slumps but stays silent. You should really head home. You push past her to leave the hallway, already sick of being here. You head back to the main area of the party in an attempt to find Jack to let him know you’re leaving. “Leaving so soon? We haven’t even gotten to the good part of the evening yet, and you still have to meet more people!” Jack exclaims. “Well, I bumped into she-who-shall-not-be-named, and I really don’t want to ruin the party, you know. She’s here; you guys are her friends, and I don’t think it’s fair to make you choose sides,” you sigh. Jack nods his head in understanding. “Alright… But just know I’m always here if you need me, okay?” You give him a nod and flash him a smile before turning to look for the exit to leave the studio. You don’t see Taylor again, and you think it’s for the better. As you decide to go home, what you miss is Sabrina telling Jack all about the encounter in the bathroom and how she caught you and Taylor in there at the same time. A few weeks pass, and you’re too anxious to reach out to any of them, so you don’t. It had been a busy few weeks anyway. You had been preparing for your sophomore album release tonight, which had been absolutely nerve-wracking. The last you had released an album was five years ago, and you didn’t think you had written anything substantial for an album up till recently, when your breakup had given you plenty of material to work with. You had poured your heart and soul into it, spending many late nights at the studio and oftentimes drinking more caffeine than socially acceptable to keep the spark for songwriting going. It was mostly a reflection of your experience in the aftermath of your breakup using fictional characters, and you hope that the vulnerability of the lyrics would be relatable to your fans. You were a little scared to put it out there. You had tried to make it as vague as possible to prevent criticism from her fans as well. Your previous album had been cheeky and not as personal as this one is, and you really don’t know how it would be received, but it was coming out at midnight regardless, and it made you very restless. Around eleven, your doorbell rings, and before you can get up to open the door, Gracie swings it open, and you cringe as the door slams the wall behind it before it shuts. You and Gracie had met through your common friend, Aaron. You hit it off immediately, and she quickly became one of your best friends. She comes in with a bottle of wine in one hand and a cake box in the other. “Dude, I could literally be a serial killer, and you would be dead right now!” She shrieks. You roll your eyes. “Security let me know you were here, and being the amazing, wonderful, incredibly talented friend I am, I graciously opened the door for you.” You walk towards her and reach your arms out to relieve her of the items so she could take off her shoes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she says as she moves past you and flops down on your couch before taking the remote and switching it to Spotify on your television. You bring the wine to the kitchen and pour the two of you generous glasses. You peer into the cake box and see that she baked you a giant cookie with the number 2 on it with a giant exclamation mark. The frosting had been a little skewed and melted, but you couldn’t help but be so incredibly thankful you had someone like her in your life who would go the extra mile to make you feel even more special on your album release day. You reach to the drawer to grab two forks for the cookie and carry the wine glasses back to the living room where Gracie lay sprawled on her phone. The television had been switched to Spotify’s countdown for your album. She grabs the wine and takes a drink before continuing, “So basically I’m joining Taylor back on the Eras tour again, and I’m wondering if I should ask her to sing our song together on stage to celebrate our nomination for the Grammys. I’m kind of scared that some of the Swifties would be disappointed they didn’t get an actual Taylor song for the acoustic set, though,” she rants. “I’m sorry; I know you don’t want to hear about her, but I just really need some advice from an unbiased perspective.” “Gracie, you know I don’t mind it. And if you really wanna to sing it, you should go for it. Who cares what they think? It’s your song,” you say. She pulls a face before changing the subject and talking about the guy she had been seeing the last few weeks. Listening to her speak did calm your nerves a fair bit, and you didn’t feel as jittery as before, but you still couldn’t shake off the sinking feeling that something was going to happen. As the clock struck midnight, your album was officially released. Gracie squealed before pressing play on your album. Hearing your voice blast through your apartment still feels so surreal. You switch on your phone to a flood of new messages from friends and family congratulating you on the new album, and you couldn’t help but grin. Nothing would be able to ruin the moment for you. As Gracie listens to the album in front of you, you watch her reaction as she processes the words, and you giggle when she screams every time she hears a lyric that you’ve brought up in passing during conversations with her. The album was roughly forty minutes long, and after which, she immediately tackled you in a big hug, “Oh my god, I can’t believe your big, amazing, insane brain!!! Best believe this will go platinum in my household!” she screams. A ping from your phone disrupts the moment. You turn your phone over, and your heart just sinks to your stomach. Gracie watches as your face visibly pales and you hold back a grimace. You turn the phone to show Gracie the new message notification.
Taylor Swift:
So which one of them is about me?
12:46 am Her eyes widen as she gawks at you. She slaps your shoulder as she shrieks, “How do you even respond to a message like that!” “I don’t know, Gracie!!! Can I just not reply? It’s totally acceptable to ghost your ex, right?” “No! Girl, you literally can’t do that.” She yells as she reaches over and snatches the phone out of your hand and starts typing furiously. You can see that she deleted the initial message she crafted and replaced it with another.
You:
what are u talking about?
12:47 am “Gracie!!! STOP TEXTING HER!” you screeched. She scooched further away from you as you lunged towards her to get your phone back. You hear another gasp leave her mouth, and you let out a sharp exhale. This cannot be good. Gracie turns the phone towards you to show you Taylor’s response.
Taylor Swift:
Your new album…
12:48 am
Read
But before you could even formulate a reply, Gracie already had the message open so Taylor could see that you had already read the message. You groaned aloud as you finally managed to grab your phone out of Gracie’s hands and stare at the messages. “Oh my god.” “So did that just happen…?” she squeaks. You whip your head around and glare at her. This would not have happened if Gracie had not engaged in the conversation at all. She sheepishly grins before reaching for her bag and getting up from the couch. “So! Party’s over! You have fun with that, and I’m gonna go. Bye bye!” You watch as she scrambles up with her bag and hurriedly makes a beeline for the door and you wait for the slam of it that is inevitable anytime she’s here. Now you’re alone with your thoughts, and you think of the unfinished conversation with Taylor. This and the wine you had shared with Gracie is the recipe for absolute disaster. You decide to give it another hour before picking up the phone again and calling her number. She immediately picks up on the first ring. “Hey,” she breathed. “Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?” “No, um, I was just wrapping up a song with Jack. If all checks out, my album would probably be coming soon as well,” she explains. Of course she’s still working at this hour, and Jack probably told her about your upcoming album if she hadn’t already caught wind of it on social media. “What did you want to know?” you ask. “Huh?” She questioned, puzzled. “You asked me which songs were about you.” “Oh.” “Why were you even listening to my album anyways? I, of course, wouldn’t dare dream of slandering your name. Don’t worry.” The line goes silent for a while, and you think she must’ve hung up the phone had she not continued and rambled. “Well, um, before we failed as partners, we were friends. And I’ve admired your music long before we were even together anyways. We can still be friends, right? It doesn’t always have to be this way. And I wanna support your new album release like a good friend would. And I wasn't worried about that. I knew you wouldn’t.” Friends . Ouch. You take a deep breath. Out of all the ways you could’ve imagined your album release day would go, you would’ve never thought it would end in a nasty conversation with your ex. Again. This would set you back another month, just like how your conversation did at that party a few months ago. “Taylor… I don’t think we can ever be friends. And to be honest, we weren’t ever friends to begin with. Always something more. I think it’s best if you don’t reach out to me anymore. I’m sorry,” you say. The line goes eerily silent again before you hear the click on the other end of the line. She had hung up saying nothing again.