FEARLESS

"Y/n"

"Y/n, wake up," a gentle voice whispers, pulling me from the depths of slumber.

Something soft and warm grazes my cheek, and I instinctively lean into it, craving the comfort. I feel utterly drained, and I nestle deeper into the cozy warmth beside me. The remnants of sleep cling to me like a heavy blanket, making it hard to shake off the drowsiness that envelops my mind.

"I'm so tired," I groan, my voice thick with sleep, each word a struggle to form as I fight against the urge to drift back into the comforting embrace of dreams.

Waking up has never been my favorite, especially when it's not on my own terms. I roll onto my back, squinting as I open my eyes to find Taylor sitting next to me in her vibrant karma outfit, the colors bright and cheerful against the muted morning light.

   Her arm rests lightly across my stomach, a gentle weight that feels both protective and reassuring, while she tenderly brushes a stray strand of hair from my face, her touch sending a shiver of warmth through me.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice raspy, the sound foreign to my ears as I try to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"I just finished my set; you haven't been out for long," she replies with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and concern. The way she looks at me makes my heart flutter, a reminder of the bond we share, even in these sleepy moments.

"Sorry," I mumble, pushing myself up to sit beside her, pulling my knees close to my chest as I try to gather my thoughts. The world around me is still hazy, but I can feel the weight of the day pressing down on me, the responsibilities and decisions that await.

"We need to discuss a few things," I say, my tone suddenly serious, the playful atmosphere shifting as the reality of our situation settles in. I can see the change in her expression, her eyes locking onto mine, widening in surprise as if she can sense the gravity of what I'm about to say.

"Like what?" she asks, her voice steady but laced with curiosity, the warmth of her earlier demeanor replaced by a hint of concern. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my thoughts coalesce into something tangible, something that needs to be addressed.

Her gaze locks onto mine, and I notice her eyes widen in surprise.

"It's nothing too serious; I just need to understand where we stand. Are you comfortable in that?" I glance down at her outfit.

"I usually head back to the hotel, take a shower, and slip into something fresh," she replies.

I hold her gaze for a moment, absorbing her words.

"How about you come to the hotel with me, and we can chat after I freshen up?" Taylor suggests.

"Alright, but let's keep it professional," I say, playfully wagging my finger at her.

Taylor jumps up to grab a few essentials, and soon we're in the darkened SUV, making our way to her hotel. How do I even begin to tackle the topics that need addressing? How do other couples navigate this? Our situation feels so unique—being openly gay and her being a pop star adds layers I never anticipated.

"What's on your mind?" Taylor asks as we ride the elevator up.

Her arm wraps around me, and I lean into her warmth, the fabric of the midnight bodysuit brushing against my cheek.

"Just a lot of stuff," I chuckle lightly.

She doesn't push me, fully aware that this conversation is necessary. I just hope I can keep my eyelids from drooping. As we step into her room, I'm struck by its vastness—it's like four average rooms merged into one.