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.

"Yeah, you deserve better." He paused, then gestured towards the hallway. "Come on in. We can get something to drink and talk about it..."

He followed you inside, the warmth of his apartment making you shiver despite your wet clothes. As you took a seat on the couch, he disappeared into his kitchen. He could hear him rummaging through cabinets and drawers before he emerged with a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. Without asking, he poured one for himself and then another before handing it to you.

"Here, this'll help," he said gruffly as he handed you the glass. "Cheers." He clinked his glass against yours before downing the contents in a single gulp. You could tell he was trying not to smile at your reaction when you sipped it.

Taylor leaned back against the counter, his eyes on you as he took another swig from the bottle. He didn't know why he was being so... nice about this. Maybe it was because he knew how shitty you were feeling or maybe there was something else, some twinge of guilt or pity... Whatever it was, he figured he might as well make use of it to his advantage.

"So, tell me about him," he said in a voice that could have been interpreted as both cold and curious. "What did you see in him? How long were you with him?" He paused for a moment before adding, "And why the hell didn't you ever come to me if there was trouble?"

"Why'd you stay with him then?" Taylor asked coldly, still studying her face. "You knew we hated each other and everything... couldn't you see it was never gonna work out between the two of you?" He took another swig from the bottle before setting it down on the counter beside him.

"And why didn't I know about any of this? You could have come to me, you know." There was a hint of something unreadable in his tone now; maybe anger or frustration or even... regret? It was hard to tell with him. "Maybe we could have helped each other out, kept an eye on things..."

"Don't get the wrong idea," he snorted, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I don't exactly 'hate' you... I just..." He trailed off, unsure of how to properly explain his feelings towards you. "Look, it doesn't matter why or what any of this is about. We both know we hate each other and we always will, but that doesn't mean I can sit here and watch someone I don't like get hurt."

He paused for a moment before leaning forward on his elbows, fixing you with his intense gaze once more. "But don't think this changes anything between us," he said harshly. "I still want to beat the shit out of you in every competition we have left... and I still don't like sharing my vodka." There was a humorless smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he said it, but there was something else underneath that smirk as well: something strange and unsettling.

Taylor gave you a curt nod before he stood up and walked back over to the kitchen counter. "You're welcome," he said gruffly as he poured himself another drink. You could almost swear you saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed it down, his throat working smoothly despite how rough it sounded.