Taylor observed you from head to toe with an indifferent expression on his face as you stood outside his door, your eyes puffy and red from crying, drenched from the rain. Even you didn’t know why you’re here, but when you caught your boyfriend having sex with another girl less than 30 minutes ago, the only person you felt like you could go to was Taylor.

Taylor leaned on the door frame, his eyes still roaming your body. The silence was too loud and You felt like you were under a damn microscope. Maybe he was enjoying seeing you in pain, maybe he saw it as a little victory for himself. After a long and painful silence, he finally spoke.

"What's your deal?" his voice was gravelly and cold but not entirely dismissive.

Thoughts: Jesus fuck, they're going to catch a cold. And why did they think it was a good idea to drive here during a storm. What a dumbass.

Taylor grunted as he saw you beginning to cry again. Why do I feel sorta bad? Goddamn it. He knew why you were here and the whole situation wasn't exactly making him feel great either. His expression softened slightly, but only just barely. "Alright... come on in." He stepped aside, motioning for you to enter his apartment.

The rain trickled down the window as he shut the door behind you. "You want some dry clothes?" He asked, already walking towards his room without waiting for an answer.

Your enemy || Taylor:Taylor paused for a moment in the doorway of his bedroom, glancing back at you. "You want me to call them?" He asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. It was obvious he didn't really care one way or another. You could take comfort from him, if that's what you wanted...or maybe not. That was your decision entirely.

"Suit yourself." He muttered under his breath before disappearing into the bedroom and returning a few moments later with an oversized t-shirt. "Here," he said coldly as he tossed it to you. "You can wear this if you want." His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint hint of sympathy in his eyes...if you looked closely enough.

Taylor leaned against the doorframe, watching you as you moved closer to the bedroom. There was something about seeing you like this that made him feel...off balance. Annoyed and protective all at once. He flexed his hands into fists, the tension in his muscles building with every second.

"So..." he drawled slowly, "what happened?" The words were harsh and clipped, but there was an undeniable curiosity beneath them. Why did you come to him? Why did it matter what that asshole thought or felt about you? He wanted the answers, damn it.

Taylor's eyes widened as you undressed in front of him, revealing more and more skin. He could feel his pulse quickening, but fought to maintain his calm exterior. "Fine," he said gruffly. "You want the whole story? Fine." Taking a deep breath, he began to tell you about how your boyfriend had been cheating on you for months, how it all started with some innocent flirting that quickly escalated into something more.

He spoke slowly and methodically, each word carefully chosen as he described the details of their conversations and text messages, painting a vivid picture of your boyfriend's betrayal. As he finished speaking, there was an unmistakable hint of satisfaction in his voice, like he had somehow won by exposing the truth.

Taylor's expression softened slightly as he watched you cry. He knew it couldn't be easy to hear that, but at the same time...he hated how much it hurt you. There was a part of him that wanted to comfort you, to make things better, but he forced himself to remain distant and cold. "Look," he said, his voice hardening again, "it's not like you don't deserve it."

He paused for a moment before continuing, knowing that he shouldn't say what was on the tip of his tongue, but unable to help himself. "You know you're better than him." It wasn't meant as a compliment; in fact, it came out more like an accusation. But maybe...maybe it was true.

Taylor scoffed loudly at the revelation. "What did you even do with that money?" he asked incredulously, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure you understood how foolish it had been. Money didn't matter as much as pride, and apparently your boyfriend had all of neither. That just figured.

He leaned against the doorframe once more, crossing his arms over his chest. "So...what are you going to do now?" There was a challenge in his tone, almost daring you to say that you would go back to him. Like he genuinely couldn't understand why anyone would want to after everything they had put up with.

Taylor snorted in disbelief. "Well," he drawled, taking a step closer to you, "you could always stay here with me...I mean, until you find someplace else." There was an odd note of mockery in his voice, like he was offering you the chance to be with him out of pity or something similar. But then again, that was probably how it should've been taken.

His gaze swept over your body once more as he paused between words, lingering on the curve of your breast before moving onward to other areas just as enticing. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you like this; he didn't care what anyone thought about their relationship or how they felt about each other...but fuck it all if he could help himself sometimes.

Taylor frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. It took him a moment to realize that he should answer it before assuming you were fishing for compliments or something like that. "Yeah," he said slowly, his voice sounding oddly subdued even to himself. "She's...beautiful." He paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. Maybe the fact that someone could find your ex more beautiful than you was part of why he hated her so much...or maybe not. It didn't really matter, did it?

Taylor raised an eyebrow at your question, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable than before. "Why do you want to see a picture of her?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion and accusation. He didn't like where this line of questioning was going; it felt too much like you were trying to compete or something equally asinine.

"You know what," he continued roughly, "never mind." With that, he turned away from you, muttering under his breath about how stupid and pathetic you could be sometimes. The thought of showing you a picture of her - even if it was just to spite your ex boyfriend for all the pain he'd caused you over the years - didn't sit well with him at all. It made things too...personal, somehow.

Taylor felt his blood run cold as he heard you say that you wanted information on her - her friends, where she worked and studied...even going as far as wanting to make someone's life hell for all the pain they had caused you. He didn't know whether to be scared for what you might do or more worried about your mental state. The thought of hurting anyone else like that was abhorrent, but he knew better than most how easy it could happen when emotions ran high and control slipped away.

"Lucia," he said carefully, his voice calm but firm, "you don't really want to go down that road." He took a step closer, closing the distance between you again, wanting to make sure you understood the gravity of your words and the consequences they could have. "Revenge might feel good for a little while," he continued, "but it's never worth losing yourself over."

But even as he spoke, he knew that his words would likely fall on deaf ears. You were just as stubborn and unyielding as ever...and perhaps deep down, maybe even a little bit like him too. But what did it all matter anyway? They were rivals; enemies who hated each other's guts. There was no way this could end well for either of them.

Taylor raised an eyebrow at your comment about the speed at which you'd received all the information. It was unsettling, to say the least; it seemed almost too easy to get hold of someone else's personal details like that without much effort or consequences. He had a feeling there might be more going on behind the scenes than either of you knew about.

But then again, he thought with a bitter laugh, maybe it was just him overthinking things. Again. After all, why should he care about someone else's safety or wellbeing when everything between the two of you had always been reduced to petty back-and-forths and power struggles?

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, "she's definitely not as pretty as she thought she was." There was an odd mix of satisfaction and disappointment in his voice that neither of you seemed to notice. And with that unspoken admission, the two of you stood there in silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts and the strange, tangled web of emotions they'd spun over the years.

The air in the room seemed to grow thick with tension as you spoke those ominous words. He knew damn well what sort of trouble you could get into if you decided to make good on your threats, but he couldn't bring himself to stop you...not yet anyway. Maybe it was some twisted form of protection or maybe even a weird sense of pride that kept him from interfering. Either way, he felt like shit for not saying something sooner.

"Lucia," he said slowly, moving closer still until there was barely any space between them, "be careful what you wish for." His voice was soft yet filled with a warning; almost as if he were trying to reason with you against his better judgment. But deep down, he knew it was too late for that.

The only thing left now was to wait and see how this whole mess would play out...and hope like hell that neither of them got hurt any more than they already had been.

Taylor paused for a moment before responding, considering your question carefully. If he'd been in your shoes...if he had ever cared enough about someone to feel betrayed and hurt like that...well, it was hard to say what he would have done. It was such an alien concept to him, caring for another person so much that their actions could cut so deeply.

But then again, maybe if things had been different...maybe if he hadn't been so set on proving himself better than everyone else, maybe he could understand it a little more. There was always the chance for growth and change, after all. But who was he kidding? He wasn't built that way. Not anymore.

He took a deep breath before speaking. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've always been more focused on winning than relationships." There was a brief pause as he tried to find the right words. "But if I really cared about someone, maybe...maybe I would try to understand why they did it and move past it together." His voice trailed off uncertainly at the end, like he wasn't even convinced himself that such a thing were possible.