She hadn't even realised that she was running through the rain in nothing but a sweater and shorts. She was still in too much shock to feel cold. Her feet were wearing nothing but the cat slippers she'd had since high school.
The paparazzi would have a field day with these photos. She knew that already. People would be getting paid big money for them. Any photos of her not looking her best would do well in the media, and they'd blow up on Twitter, therefore making her hate herself more. She knew that people would make up stories about her situation, knew that shortly, the whole world would have made assumptions about her.
Joe gently draped his coat across her shoulders while he guided her to his car. She was grateful for this action.
The camera flashes had become more frequent now that there was something interesting going on. It surprised her that Joe's first priority was to stop them from getting any decent photos of her. She'd never been with someone like that before. No one had ever worked hard to keep her from being seen as he did. And the fact that he thought about all these things as he was leaving his apartment to pick her up? That was enough to make her want to sob. No one had ever thought about protecting her from the cameras before, and here was Joe, who seemed to do it without thinking twice. No one had ever cared about her privacy in that way before, and it astounded her.
This thought made her begin to feel again. Just a little, tiny piece was stitched back into place.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, placing them on her. They were a little too big, Taylor noticed, and if they were in other circumstances, this would have made her laugh. Joe possibly would have too, if they were different people, and this was a different moment. They almost kept sliding off her nose, because all she wanted to do was look down at the floor. He brushed her hair out of her eyes and murmured something about devalued photographs. She was in too much shock to hear his precise words.
Then, he opened an umbrella and hid her from the view of the cameras until they made it to his car.
Joe helped her into the front of his car and reminded her to put on her seatbelt before he slipped into the driver's seat.
Taylor couldn't even think straight, so much just happened and she felt like her head was going to explode. She jumped when her phone started ringing, panic flooding her body even more than it already had.
"Shit," She murmured as Joe started driving. She could barely think straight, the clarity that had filled the void in her mind had seemingly vanished.
"Don't answer it. Turn off your location," Joe told her firmly as if he could hear her thoughts. "It's going to be okay. Turn off anything where he could see where you are. You're alright now. You're safe, I promise. He can't hurt you anymore." How did he know what to do? How did he know what to say? How could he think straight? He drove away from the street, back to his apartment, and didn't question why her sweater was almost ripped, why there was blood running down her arm and mascara dripping from her eyes. He just drove, and the gentle hum of the rain falling calmed her racing heart.
"It's going to be alright, Taylor." He reassured her as he opened her car door. "We'll get you inside and warm. You don't have to talk - not if you don't want to. And if you don't want to stay here for more than one night... that's okay too. I'm sure that your parents would want to help you through something like this. But for now, I'm here." He took her hand and led her up to his apartment. His hair was wet and dripping down his face, and she was soaking. She apologised for the puddle that was left in the elevator. She apologised for the fact she made him come out on such a cold night, apologised for the fact she looks awful. She apologised for the rain, for the wind, for having to help her, for the cameras. For everything. She was used to everything being her fault, and apologising for all of her mistakes had become second nature.
Even though he assured her that there was nothing to apologise for, she couldn't stop.
Taylor knew that she couldn't go and see her parents... not now. Not like this. Because they didn't know. No one did. No one except the actor from the cafe with captivating eyes and a warm smile.
She was unable to stop the tears. They just kept coming and now, they refused to stop.
"Here," Joe handed her a dry towel. "Let's get you all sorted. God, you're freezing. Here - come and sit in front of the fire while I find you some dry clothes." He guided her to the fire and watched as she sat down quietly.
She pulled her knees into her chest, the numbness settling in. She was used to feeling that way - but it was different this time. It was so much deeper than anything she'd ever felt that she didn't know if she'd ever feel anything ever again.
He came back with a grey robe. "Erm... this is pretty much all I have that would fit you, but it will have to do. At least it's dry. I'll be able to find you something better later, but I just wanted you to get out of your sopping wet clothes."
Taylor tried to open her mouth and speak, but the words wouldn't come. She felt as if her heart might have actually broken. Felt as if she'd never feel whole ever again. Felt as if everything she'd ever known about life had dissipated into nothingness.
"Taylor," Joe called her softly. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes - you'll catch a cold." She finally looked over at him. "You're freezing." He murmured as he bent down to turn up the fire, to ensure the place was warmer. Taylor didn't have the heart to say that she felt like she had a frozen heart and nothing could defrost it ever again.
"You don't even know me - why are you being so kind?" She could barely focus on anything but the fire. She loved the way that the fire was frolicking in his eyes, twirling with his ocean blue irises. She loved the way his hair was falling across his face, still damp from the rain. Loved that his priority was not about himself, but her. Loved that it seemed like he genuinely cared.
Those eyes that she'd watched all those years ago. Those eyes that had stayed with her, through every ounce of pain, through every sleepless night. They'd kept her company on all of her darkest days.
"I've never formally... met you... but I've been watching you from a safe distance." He gave her a smile, running his hands through his hair. She already noticed the way he watched her with a softness that Adam never had. "You were the one who inspired me to move here, actually."
"Why?" Lots of people often said that to her. Said that this place was on their bucket list because of her. Because she loved it so much. Because she wrote a song about New York, about the bright lights of the city of dreams. About how the city gave you everything you could ever want or dream of.
But she'd lost the love that she once had for the city, and now she didn't know why her words about the city of dreams were so inspiring.
"Because you said, once, that it was the city where all dreams come true, no matter how big or small. That sounded like the place for me. I'll be honest, it was either this or the Lake District. But I love writing about the skyline in my free time too much to leave it." He paused and Taylor made a mental note to Google the Lake District later. "Do you want to have a shower? Or a bath? I have a secret stash of bath products if you would like to use them." Taylor loved the light in his voice, loved the fact that watching him was like looking at the sun. So bright and warm and kind. She even allowed herself to bring a smile to her face. She glanced down at the floor, not wanting to look him directly in the eyes.
She nodded, and Joe stood up. "Everyone always tells me that I run great baths."
She laughed as he walked toward what Taylor can only assume to be the bathroom.
"Oh? And how many people have you run baths for?" She finally found enough strength to smile.
"Just one," Joe admitted softly. "Okay, just you. But I happen to think that I run incredible baths." She laughed again. There it was. That beautiful sound. A treasure. A rarity.
"Well - I'll make sure to leave you a positive review." It was his turn to laugh - and she was relieved that he did.
She stared into the fire. She looked down beside her and saw the robe, and couldn't help herself. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. Her head swirled with the smell of it all.
Evergreen forests and pine needles and wildflowers and peppermint and ocean waves and old libraries and an encyclopaedia and moss and lavender and rain on the pavement after a summer storm. Timeless letters and cobblestone paths and watercolour paint and soap and something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
All she knew was that it wanted to make her write songs again.
It was the nicest thing she'd smelt in years. It smelt like him. Smelt like freedom and summery meadows where everything was illuminated with gold. It smelt exactly like she'd imagined him to. It smelt like her dreams, her getaway. Her escape.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her damp pocket. Adam had sent her forty text messages, tried to phone her and FaceTime her a dozen times. She turned it off and left it behind her as the big bookshelf to her left caught her attention. Even though she knew she should reply and she was worried that he'd actually kill himself this time (as he always threatened to do when she didn't answer his texts), she left her phone somewhere where she'd easily forget about it.
Joe had it organised alphabetically, and the shelf was full of poetry, classics and beautiful works. Her old self would have melted at the sight of it. Now, she could only look at the cracked spines, at the paint splatters and there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Ah, I see you've met my bookshelf. It's very friendly." He came back into view, a smile on his face. "You're welcome to read any of them. I haven't even decided whether I want to keep them like this. I used to arrange them in colour, from red to black, or just in the order that I loved them. I always put the ones I read most down at the bottom to try and encourage me to read some other ones." Taylor looked at how some of them were more battered than others, and smiled. A lot of them were covered in paint, and that made her smile even wider.
"I've got one of your paintings hanging above my piano," Taylor admitted gently. She didn't know whether that was too much information, whether he'd think that was weird... but she said it anyway. She worried that he would think that she knew too much, that the fact she had pieced it all together was a bad thing. She knew that it wasn't public knowledge, and she'd never dream of ruining his little secret. She didn't know much about Joe Alwyn, but she knew that he was a fantastic actor and that he liked to paint. She knew that he liked to paint landscapes and that he'd used a pseudonym to ensure he could keep those two worlds separate.
Joe chuckled. "Which one? How did you know it was mine?" He did not seem surprised at the fact she'd figured it out.
"I believe it was called 'in the absence of daylight.'" She answered. "It was my favourite piece you've ever done. I saw it, and I knew I had to have it. It's sat above my piano ever since." She paused, smiling as she thought about it. "I knew because you had paint on your hands - at the Met Gala. And I think I heard someone mention it. So I went home and I investigated. Sure enough, there it was, William Bowery." She grinned. "It seems there's a lot the world doesn't know about you, Joe."
He chuckled, glancing over at her. "I guess there is. I don't want the whole world to know that I can paint, I mean, they're quite judgy. And you really liked that one? Really? A lot of the critics didn't like that one. 'Not enough purpose,' I believe they kept saying. Reviews like that always make me relieved that Joe Alwyn isn't attached to it." Joe shrugged, shaking his head. "Wow, one of my paintings is hanging above Taylor Swift's piano. Who would have thought? One of my paintings." He shook his head, grinning in disbelief. "One of my secret paintings that the world doesn't know about. Yet, you figured it out."
"How could they ever say there wasn't enough purpose? It was perfect. It shows perfectly what the world looks like with no daylight. What a person looks like when they've lost the light of who they are - when they've lost who they used to be. I mean, that's what I took from it. I know it was a snowscape... that there weren't actually any people in it, but still. That's what I thought about when I saw it." She blushed, humiliated at her rambling about what she thought his painting might mean.
Standing here, at this moment, she realised why she loved that one so much.
"I mean, all of your paintings are amazing - in fact, I gave one to my Mom for her birthday a couple of years ago. I can't remember what it was called, but we loved it so much. Everyone knows who you are." She murmured. "You're technically more famous than me. People love your paintings. I can't believe that you've managed to keep it such a secret that it's actually Joe Alwyn, painter, poet and actor to the stars."
"On what planet?" Joe laughed. "The great thing about being a famous artist is that no one knows the face behind the artwork. No one really cares who they look like, so long as the painting is perfect. So technically I suppose that I am quite famous for my art. Well, William Bowery is, at least. My name is famous, and so is my signature and the brush techniques I use... but the thing is, no one knows my face." He looked over at her, and she wondered what she would give to have that luxury every once in a while. "Except you, who managed to put two and two together."
"I know your face, I could pick it out of a thousand. You have the face of a painter. You have the hands of a painter. And I read a lot of Nancy Drew when I was a little girl." Taylor whispered as she looked over at him. "Your books are covered in paint."
"Indeed they are. Sometimes I convince myself that I am good enough at multitasking to paint and read at the same time. I like painting artworks that go with the poetry I write."
"It's great." She paused, biting her lip. "I shouldn't have left." She turned to face the wall. "I'm sure he's worried about me." Joe's face fell as he took another step toward her.
"How long has he been hurting you for?" His words hurt. She'd never had someone question her about it before because she'd managed to keep it so private. He'd been so kind to her - but this wasn't the sort of information she wanted to talk about.
"He says that it's because he loves me." She told him gently. Taylor had never let someone in like this. She'd never let anyone see this side of her and she wasn't sure what to do, or say.
Joe gently placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "That's bullshit, Taylor. I hope that you can see that." He paused, sighing. "If he really loved you... then he'd play with your hair while you were falling asleep... he'd take you to an art gallery and then to dinner... he'd paint you priceless paintings, he'd write poetry about the stars in your eyes and he'd take you to places with cobblestone paths and wisteria hanging overhead... but more than that? The most important thing of all? He wouldn't hurt you." He pleaded. She could hear the urgency in his voice. Hear what he was so desperately trying to get her to see what her heart already knew.
Taylor looked over at him, his hands, still on her shoulders... warm and soft, beginning to defrost her frozen heart. Stained with blue paint, his fingertips were covered in little white splatters.
"He says that it's helping me." She whispered, looking up at him.
"You deserve more than that. More than what he could ever give you. He wouldn't hurt you if he loved you."
"I can't escape it. He says he can find me. That there is nowhere on the planet where he can't reach me."
"I'm... I'm here now, Taylor. I won't let him hurt you again. I... I care about you too much to let that happen to you." His voice faltered. "I would never hurt you like he did. It hurts to see you like this. When I think of the woman I saw dancing at The Met all those years ago - you were happy. In your silver sparkly dress and your black lipstick. With your hair all bleached. And... you were happy with him. I saw how you smiled as you danced with him. But now? You're... you're a ghost of that woman. And that makes me really, really sad."
"You saw me?" Taylor asked quietly.
"I couldn't take my eyes off you." His words were warm, in a way that Adam could never make her feel. "You were mesmerising. Like... a mirrorball."
"Really?" She squeaked, not quite able to believe that, as she was glancing over at him that entire night, he'd obviously been doing the same. She might have been dancing with Adam, but her eyes were on Joe. Her dreams from that day forward were about him.
"I didn't even look that good then - I mean, that dress... that hairstyle, the lipstick... argh. It wasn't one of the finest moments in my music career. My hair still hasn't recovered from being bleached."
He'd been watching her... just as she'd been watching him. Even if she was with another.
"But I saw you too," she admitted quietly. "I might have been dancing with him, but I only saw you."
"Well, I think you looked beautiful. I almost went up to you, you know. But he beat me to you. It took me so long to get up the courage to go over to you... and when I'd finally decided to be fearless, it was too late."
Taylor felt her cheeks turn crimson.
"Anyway, erm... the bath is ready." He told her.
She didn't want to leave him - because there was something about him that made her feel so safe, so protected. She hadn't felt like that in months. Joe led her to the bathroom and she followed along behind him.
The bathroom lights were dim, and the bath was full of bubbles and was a lovely lilac colour. The colour of the wisteria she loved so much in the spring. "Hmmm... it's definitely going to be the best bath I've ever had." She told him, looking up at his eyes, watching his lips as they broke into a smile.
"Get warm, I'll make you a hot chocolate and get the guest bedroom ready." His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something else, but he just closed it and left the room. Taylor walked over to the mirror, watching the figure staring back at her.
For the first time in months, she could almost see the girl she used to be staring back at her with a smile.
She pulled herself away from the mirror because she knew that this would only lead her to spend hours assessing every imperfection, particularly the ones that Adam had always pointed out to her. She stripped off her clothes and noticed a pile of books sitting on a stool beside the bath. The one on the top of the pile was a book of poetry. But not a purchased book, or at least, she didn't think that it was. It was an A5 leather-bound journal, and inside of it, were all sorts of different poems. Poems that she assumed he had written, as some of the pages were splattered with ink. His handwriting ran wild across the pages. There was paint dotted here and there, and this made her smile.
It seemed to be the little details about Joe Alywn that were reeling her in. The fact that behind the face of the famous actor, he was a painter. He didn't use his name to make his paintings sell, instead, he used a pseudonym. His paintings sold because they were outstanding. He was a poet - she had yet to read his words, but she knew it from the way he spoke to her. His words were lyrical, like hers so often used to be.
She hadn't known that Joe liked poetry before today - not that she'd ever had a conversation with him before. She'd never thought about reaching out to him about the fact she knew he was a painter.
She knew he liked painting enough to make an invisible career out of it... but the fact he liked poetry too? It made her smile. She put the book back down. Like many of her own lyrics, they were clearly a private thing and she did not want to intrude. Particularly when so much of his life was private in a way that hers was not. His life was not chaotic like hers. His life was the complete opposite.
It was bad enough that she'd had to call him to help her - therefore bringing him into the spotlight. The paparazzi would search and search for the answer to everyone's questions. Who was the mysterious figure that whisked her away? She'd put a target on his back - the paparazzi would be after him because he was now associated with her. And she would be so mad at herself if she'd ruined his ability to keep his painting and acting separately from one another.
Taylor would never forgive herself for putting all of this on Joe's shoulders, but he didn't seem to mind too much. She stepped into the bath and felt her cool body sigh as the warmth seeped into her. It was perfect. She could feel the coil of wire that her body seemingly was all of the time begin to unravel. For the first time in years, she closed her eyes and didn't want to be anywhere else. She didn't have to dream about being a thousand miles away from her home, because right now, she was exactly where she knew she wanted to be.
She lost track of time, she was so warm and for once, her heart wasn't going a million miles per hour. She felt like she wanted to stay here forever.
She eventually climbed out of the bath and dried herself. She quickly assessed the damage to her arm, before throwing on the robe. She knew that the robe revealed several of her bruises - the one on her neck from where he held her too tightly, and the one on her knees where he held her down and she struggled against the wooden floor. She ran a finger across some of them, biting her lip. She didn't want them to be a part of who she was. She thought they were ugly and that it would make absolutely everyone hate her. At least, that's what Adam always said to her.
Self-consciously, she tried to pull the robe in different directions to hide it, but it didn't work.
What's the use? She asked herself, he knows I have bruises anyway.
"I can confirm that was truly, the best bath I have ever had." She walked into the living room, and saw Joe, sitting at the table with two mugs of hot cocoa, and a game of scrabble in front of him. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. "It received a ten-star rating," she grinned as she looked down at the table, her eyes threatening to never stop tearing up. Scrabble? She hadn't played it in so long she thinks she might cry.
"I didn't cheat, I promise." He grins at her. "I heard that you were a master at scrabble, and, if you're up for it, we could have a game, if you like."
She hadn't played scrabble in so long.
Adam hated it. He hated that it was something that she was better at than him, and he'd never let them play it together.
"You know... I'm pretty good too, I have a winning streak with my Mum," he smirked. She loved scrabble so much. It reminded her of a Christmas tree farm and the beauty of her childhood. She sat down beside him, another smile on her face.
"I love scrabble." She told him, and when he glanced over at her, it was like she had known this man her entire life - and would keep on knowing him for an eternity. It felt like she has known him for twenty years, that he knew all of her secrets and wanted to be with her anyway.
"Well, I guess the legends are true," Joe laughed. "You really are a master."
Taylor let herself laugh. Most people were always surprised to hear that she loved word games, that she loved scrabble. Most people probably assumed that she liked writing songs for the money, not that she wrote songs because she genuinely loved making words sound beautiful together.
"You were tough competition." She paused. "But, you know, if you need a dictionary next time, let me know." She added and laughed again. Joe laughed with her, shaking his head.
"What?" Taylor asks.
"I'm just trying to work out how he could do this to you." He sighed and Taylor felt herself withdraw, throwing up walls to protect herself. "Because I am looking at you right now, and I can't even imagine it."
She shrugged, looking down at her scrabble pieces.
"Have you eaten today? Are you hungry? I can cook us something if you'd like." He offered, but Taylor shook her head.
"I'm not really that hungry. But thank you." He was going to say something else but she saw him stop himself from saying anything further.
"That's okay. Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?" Joe asked her, and she nodded, her eyelids heavy.
He led her to one of the guest bedrooms.
"I'll see you in the morning," Joe told her as he opened the door. "I'll be right here, and if you need anything, let me know."
Taylor walked forward a few steps into the room.
"I'm not going to let him hurt you again, okay? I promise. It's all going to be okay. You're going to be okay."
There was reassurance in his voice, and she looked up at him sleepily as she made her way to bed. "I could stay here forever."
"I wish you would." She heard him say, but then again, she was half asleep and wasn't sure if she heard him properly.
"You are nothing, baby. Nothing." He yells at me. Adam is the scariest person I have ever met. And I've been stalked by fans, I've seen a lot of scary people in my time... but this rage of his? It is terrifying.
His voice roars and his anger explodes. Adam is always angry on the inside.
We are standing in a crowd of people, and he is hitting me and screaming at me, but no one does anything.
"You fucking bitch - you don't love me, do you? Even after everything I've done to look after you and protect you from it all." He has me by the throat, his fingers wrapped around it tightly.
My vision goes cloudy - and we're alone again. We're in the bedroom. Our bedroom. I am on the bed, his hand on my neck as he holds me down. "You're mine, baby. Mine." I am yelling at him to stop, pleading with him because I don't want this, I don't want to have sex and I don't want his hand on my throat. I can't breathe, my eyes feel as if they're on fire.
My head turns to the side and in the reflection of the window I see the sixteen-year-old girl that I used to be and see her watching me. Where has she gone? The girl I used to be after all this. She shatters in front of me - fragmenting into a thousand glass pieces sparkling and falling. She's gone. I lost her. The girl I used to be - the girl I want to be again. I destroyed her.
"Fuck, baby, you're so goo-"
"Taylor. Tay - Taylor, wake up." Hands found her in the dark, pulling her upwards, towards the light. She woke up, screaming. "Shh, it's alright. It was just a dream. I'm right here. You're safe." Joe was sitting on her bed, and she looked around the room trying to wake up properly. His arms were on her shoulders, and that should have made her flinch. But it didn't, because his hands were soft, and his eyes were so kind.
"I woke you up - I'm sorry." She wiped some stray tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Don't apologise, I wasn't asleep anyway. Are you okay?" He asked her and she brought her knees to her chest. She had to think about the answer for a while.
"No, not really." She answered honestly.
"Do you want me to stay with you? Just... just until you get to sleep? I can fight off all of the bad dreams for you."
Taylor nodded and moved over so that Joe could sit up beside her. "It's okay, love. I'm here."
"I really like it when you called me love," She murmured, half asleep. She smiled at the fact that he told her he was here.
"I'm here, Taylor, love."
Those words, golden and bright, stitched a tiny broken piece back in its place. The first of many broken pieces that were yet to be fixed, but a single piece is better than none at all.
She was not who she used to be, that little girl was long gone... but maybe, just maybe she was on the brink of finding something, someone better.