delicate [1] | TAYLOR SWIFT

9

thank you all so so so much for 10K reads wtf!!! thats so insane... i love yall

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When Taylor's plane landed at the private tarmac in New York, she slipped into the back of the SUV and collapsed against Tree's shoulder.

"I'm exhausted," she sighed, closing her eyes.

"I told you to sleep on the plane," the publicist said dryly, typing on her phone. "Were you drinking?"

"I had a glass of wine to try and sleep," Taylor explained with a light shrug, finally sitting up straight as the car started moving once the luggage was loaded in the back. "Didn't work."

"Well, we can't skip this meeting," Tree told her with a hint of sympathy in her voice.

Taylor groaned, leaning her forehead against the cool window. "Do we really have to go?" She said in a soft voice.

"You mean the meeting we postponed three times and changed its location because one, you were all the way across the world petting Kangaroos and following your boyfriend around, and two, you insisted on returning directly to New York?" Tree countered, taking off her glasses and giving Taylor a pointed look. "Uh, yeah. I think we really need to go."

Taylor took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest in a defensive manner. "I really don't wanna face the real world yet."

Tree's hand fell over the younger girl's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I know. But we need to discuss our next move if you do wanna continue to have a career when things die down."

Taylor clicked her tongue, her frustration only growing. "Things will die down, and I'll still be dead to everyone either way. They don't want me out there anymore," she chuckled bitterly, feeling a lump form in her throat for the billionth time that week. "Whatever else I do won't matter."

Taylor could practically hear all the words Tree wanted to say and didn't, because it all would have been false reassurance. Neither one of them knew what the future truly held for her career, but they could only hope for the best.

Well, Tree could.

All Taylor could see was her whole life slipping between her fingers, as hard as she had tried to hold on. There was no point anymore.

"Do you wanna stop by your place first and freshen up?" Tree asked as they finally left the airport and the driver pulled up on the highway. Taylor nodded dully.

"You could just say that I look like a mess," Taylor mumbled dryly which made the redhead chuckle and shake her head at the singer.

When Taylor got home, she pouted at how empty it felt with her cats still at her mother's house. As she showered, she couldn't even get herself to connect her phone to the Bluetooth speakers. Even the saddest of songs was too cheery for her current mood.

She left her hair to air-dry and slipped on a simple white blouse and a pair of dark jeans before heading back downstairs to the car, a pair of sunglasses covering her face. The paparazzi had caught on to her arrival back in New York and getting away from them was a difficult task, to say the least.

The only thing that kept her from crying in the car was the make-up she had just applied as a poor attempt at trying to look less ghostly. But when she sat at the round table in the meeting room with her managing team, only her father present with her mother still recovering from her treatments, she felt all eyes watching her with concern, and maybe even pity and she hated it. She was glaring at the glass of water someone had placed in front of her during the whole meeting, even when her father placed a gentle hand over hers, trying to comfort her. It didn't help.