✒️Chapter 14: Silent Support

                                    

                                          
The echo of raised voices had finally subsided, leaving Taylor's apartment shrouded in an uneasy silence. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the finality of her breakup with Joe. They had grown apart, their lives pulling them in different directions. The breakup had been brewing for a while, but now that it finally happened, she felt as though her world had come crashing down. The conversation had been painful and raw, leaving her emotionally drained. 
After Joe left, she found herself in the kitchen, fumbling for a bottle of wine. She needed a drink. Anything to numb the pain. She poured herself a glass, hoping it would numb the overwhelming pain she felt. Stood in the kitchen, staring blankly at a half-empty bottle of wine. She poured herself another generous glass, her hands trembling slightly as she brought it to her lips. She stared at the half-empty bottle of wine on the table, her thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of pain and confusion. 
The kitchen lights were harsh, almost accusatory, as if they were exposing the raw, painful truth of her failed relationship. She felt overwhelmed, unable to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. She wandered into the living room, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. She sank onto the couch, the plush cushions offering little comfort. She placed the wine glass on the table and buried her face in her hands, the tears finally escaping. The sobs wracked her body, and she felt as though she might break apart from the sheer intensity of her sorrow.
Quin, meanwhile, was making her rounds, ensuring the shift change for the security team went smoothly. She was meticulous as always, and her mind focused on the task at hand. She was in her element. But even in her element, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She had noticed the tension between Taylor and Joe for a while, but she never pried. Her job was to protect the singer, not to interfere in her personal life.
As she approached the living room, she noticed the faint glow of a lamp and heard the unmistakable sound of someone crying. Following the noise, she entered the living room worry etched into her features, and her eyes immediately found Taylor on the couch. The sight of the normally composed and cheery star in such a state sent a pang of concern through her chest. The blonde sat on the couch, crying into her hands with a glass of wine on the table and a half-empty bottle beside it.
"Taylor?" she called softly, stepping closer, her steps cautious and deliberate as she moved closer. The blonde didn't respond, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Quin hesitated, unsure of how to approach this situation. Comforting someone emotionally wasn't her forte, but she couldn't just stand by.
Kneeling in front of Taylor, she reached out but stopped short of touching the star. Before she could ask what was wrong, the blonde lifted her head, her tear-streaked face showing a mixture of pain and exhaustion. "Joe and I... we ended things," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Quincy felt her heart ache for the blonde, a mix of empathy and a more personal pain. She struggled to find the right words, her mind racing. Comforting words felt inadequate, but she had to do something. She looked around the room, her mind racing to find something, anything, to ease the older woman's pain. 
The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Finally, Taylor lifted her tear-streaked face and looked at Quincy with pleading eyes. "Can I have your jacket?" She asked, her voice small and broken.
Without hesitation, the brunette stood and slipped off her signature leather jacket. She draped it over lean weary shoulders, hoping the weight and warmth would offer some semblance of comfort. 
Taylor pulled the jacket around her, hugging it tightly as if it could shield her from the heartache. Then she shuffled into the corner of the couch, hugging her knees to her chest and hiding her face in her arms. Quincy settled onto the floor in front of the couch, her back against the cushion. She wanted to be close to offer a reassuring presence, but she wasn't sure if it would be wanted. She stared ahead, racking her brain for something, anything, that could help. She felt helpless, unsure if she was doing enough.