1 (jaylor) wisteria hearts and caged folk songs

chapter four.

When she awoke again, Joe was still beside her. He was no longer sitting, instead, he was lying down, his eyes shut. It took her a few moments to realise that her head was resting on his chest. She moved immediately, even though the thought of it brought her comfort. Joe's eyes flew open in surprise. She'd not had a human touch like that in months. She'd avoided it at all costs, and couldn't even be close to her mother anymore. She hadn't wanted to be this close to another person in over two years, but she found herself longing for Joe's presence.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to lie on top of you." She gasped and he smiled.
"I didn't even realise that I had done that - you could have shoved me off."
"I didn't want to." He admitted. "You were tired. I was hardly going to wake you up again, and anyway, it's really not a big deal."
But it felt like a big deal to Taylor. Because she usually couldn't stand close human contact after what Adam had put her through. She couldn't hug her friends, couldn't cuddle her Mom... couldn't have her Dad kiss her cheek... none of it. She'd always dodge it. But here she was... doing it with Joe. With Joe, it didn't seem to be a big issue. She didn't feel afraid of him, of his hands or his voice. She thought it would still be a big deal for her and that it would take her a long time to ever feel okay with human touch. But with him, it came easy to her. She could be close to him without feeling like she had to run and hide, or without feeling like she couldn't cope with everything.

"Well... I'm really sorry. You didn't have to stay... I didn't even share my blanket with you. I'm so sorry." She looked over at Joe, his eyes warm. "It's okay, Taylor. It's all okay." He told her, as he stood up. She grinned as she realised he'd listened to her last night when she'd said she liked it when he called her that. "I am going to make breakfast. How do pancakes sound? Then... we're going to have to talk about what we're going to do next."

Those words scared her. They ricocheted off of her, and her panic flooded through her veins. What they'd do next? She didn't feel ready to leave the safety of the sweet moments that she'd shared with Joe. The next chapter would not be filled with such bliss. She knew that Joe was kind, and he wasn't Adam. There was nothing about him that resembled her abuser. Joe was completely different, and for once, she could see that within its entirety. He was so light and that light made her feel warm. He made her feel safe.

"But don't worry, alright? Because you don't have to talk about anything that you're not ready for." He assured her. "I promise that whatever we decide to do, it'll be something you feel ready for."
She wondered if it was possible to completely and truly love a voice. His British accent, the way it was deep but so light, the way he pronounced his words. Everything about his voice was attractive. Everything from his blond hair, his lips and his eyes, to the paint on his fingertips, to the paint on the cuff of his t-shirt.
"I have to go back," Taylor muttered. "There's too much... too much baggage for you to have to put up with. I don't want to just lump it all on you, you don't deserve that, Joe. Besides - you're probably really busy and you've probably got things lined up for the rest of the year and you probably have a thousand paintings to get done before Christmas. You probably have scripts to learn and so many other things to get done before the holidays. Not to mention the -"
"I am not putting up with anything. I'm not a busy person. I paint in my spare time, I send them off to my manager who sends them away to my clients. I just ship the paintings away and then they sit in someone else's living room gathering dust. I don't have any films in progress before the New Year." He assured her.
"Please trust me when I say that I've got all the time in the world to help you. Paintings, scripts and poetry can wait, this can't. You can't."
"It's not fair on you. I've literally only properly known you for less than twenty-four hours, yet, in that time, you know my biggest secret, I've had to call you to rescue me and I've literally slept in a bed with you. You don't need a singer in crisis... haunting your life. You came here for a city of dreams, Joe. Not a city of nightmares."
"Taylor," Joe stepped toward her, and she flinched. She wondered if that would ever stop. Would she ever not flinch like that when someone came toward her? It was the sound of the floorboards that made her scared - because that was often the sound that came before Adam's touch.

"I don't care if I've known you for ten years, six months or twenty-four hours. But in this short time, I have seen you laugh and smile, and your reaction when you do tells me that it was the first time in a long time. You've talked to me about painting, about poetry, about your cats and about your lyrics. I've seen your sparkle. Your baggage doesn't scare me. The thing with nightmares? They end. Bad dreams don't last forever, Taylor. They end." He sat down beside her.
"Every. Single. Time."
"But you don't even know the half of it," Taylor whispered and he carefully took her hand. She knew she shouldn't test him like this, but she couldn't help it. She had to test him; had to ensure that he meant what he said. Had to ensure that he truly wouldn't be scared off by her scars.
"I trust that when you feel ready, you will tell me parts of it. But I want you to know that you can stay here. You can make this room your own, you can live with me and my bookshelves and my paintings. Although paint seems to get everywhere in this place, you'll have to make peace with that. And half the time all of my canvases end up in the hallway and it's always hard to get through there, so that's not always great. I have a piano, so you'll be woken up by it sometimes."

"I think I have an eating disorder." Taylor was testing the waters, she was seeing how he would react when she told him some of the other issues that she is facing. She shouldn't let him keep her, he needed to know just how bad she was. What a fucking mess she was. He had to know.
"I know what you're doing, Taylor. But don't push me away. Don't try and scare me away because I've faced nightmares myself. I've faced the darkness, I've felt numb and cold. I've felt all of those things before. I'm not the sort of person who gets scared that easily. I've got several skeletons in the back of my closet that I never let see the light. Most of them are things I've not talked about to anyone. They're things that I'm the only one who knows. Sure, they're etched into my paintings, but I'm the only one that understands what it means." He stopped and started softly stroking her hand.
"We all have our ghosts, they're nothing to be ashamed of. I ran into you at the cafe yesterday for a reason, and it already feels like I've known you for a lifetime." He spoke gently.

"Sometimes I just sit and stare out the window all day." She was still seeing how far she had to go before he ran for the hills. "In the same pink velvet chair, I don't talk or eat or drink water. I just look out at the city and wonder when it'll get better. When it will stop hurting so much."
"Sometimes I sit at the piano and play until my fingers ache so much that I can't move them. Until they're so sore I can't even play for a week afterwards. Sometimes I hate every single painting I do, and I end up tearing a hole right through the middle of the canvas and sometimes, I am even tempted to throw it out the window. Which I would do if there wasn't the chance that someone might get hurt. Sometimes I paint over the same little area a hundred times because the colour just isn't right. Sometimes I rip pages out of my sketchbook and throw them away because nothing I do is good enough. Sometimes I don't leave my apartment for a month. Sometimes I sit at the piano and don't move for hours. Sometimes I read the same line of a script over and over again but I can't get into character. Sometimes I hate everything I've ever done in my life. Sometimes I blame myself for every inch of darkness the people I love have ever felt." He admitted and she looked over to him as he showed her his fingertips, which are red. "Don't push me away. Let me help you. Nothing you could tell me would be enough to convince me to let you go. I already let you slip through my fingers once, Taylor. I'm hardly going to let it happen again."