save me - taylor swift

They reached the rehearsal space without another word. The studio doors were already open, a few dancers stretching inside, the sound of quiet chatter filling the air. Taylor hesitated at the entrance, her fingers tightening around the coffee cup she had yet to drink from. 

Ruby caught the subtle pause. It was barely noticeable, but she had spent years reading people, studying the things they didn't say. 

Taylor didn't want to go in. 

Not yet. 

Ruby didn't acknowledge it aloud. Instead, she stepped beside her, just close enough that their arms nearly brushed. "You're gonna be fine," she said, her voice low. "It's just rehearsal." 

Taylor exhaled sharply, a faint, almost self-deprecating laugh. "I know that." 

But she still didn't move. 

Ruby studied her for a moment. "You don't want them to see the bruises." 

Taylor tensed slightly. 

She hadn't said it out loud, but Ruby knew. 

"Makeup can only do so much," Taylor admitted quietly. "And I don't feel like explaining." 

Ruby understood that. 

The people in that room—her dancers, her team—would be concerned. They would ask questions. Some of them might even press too hard, not out of malice, but out of worry. 

Taylor didn't want to deal with that. 

"Come here," Ruby said before she could think better of it. 

Taylor's brows furrowed, but she turned slightly toward her. Ruby didn't hesitate. She reached up, carefully adjusting the collar of Taylor's sweatshirt, shifting it just enough that the fabric covered the worst of the marks. 

Taylor stiffened beneath her touch.

Not out of discomfort—at least, Ruby didn't think so. It was something else.

Ruby dropped her hands and stepped back. "There," she said, keeping her tone casual. "That should help." 

Taylor didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on Ruby, something unreadable in her expression, as if she was trying to figure something out. 

Then, finally, she nodded. "Thanks." 

Ruby only gave a slight tilt of her head. 

Before either of them could say anything else, someone called Taylor's name from inside the studio. 

Taylor turned toward the sound, straightening her shoulders, slipping into the version of herself that the world expected her to be. The version that didn't waver. 

Ruby watched her go, leaning against the doorframe as Taylor greeted her dancers, offering easy smiles, slipping into conversation as if nothing was wrong. 

She was good at that. 

At pretending. 

Ruby was, too. 

But as she stood there, watching Taylor laugh at something one of the dancers said, watching the way she rubbed absently at the sleeve of her sweatshirt, as if she could still feel the weight of Ruby's hands— 

She realized maybe she wasn't as good at it as she used to be. 

-

The day dragged on in pieces. 

Ruby spent most of it stationed outside the rehearsal space, arms crossed, watching the room from a distance. She wasn't the only guard there—two others had been assigned to the area—but she was the only one Taylor's eyes flickered to every now and then.