Edited 4/13/2021
Disclaimer - I do not own Digimon or the song Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift
TW: Stalking
"We were built to fall apart, then fall back together."
I was staring, critically, at myself in the mirror, my dark eyeshadow, and pink cheeks. I picked up a makeup remover and wiped my face clean for the second time. I walked back into the room and pulled the shirt I had on over my head. Nothing felt right, it all looked too dressy, or too casual, or too dramatic. "Ugh," I fell backward onto my bed dejected. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
I hear the door handle turn and looked up to see Sora come in, "I mean, you just gonna skip dinner and stay in?" she asked, with a suggestive wink.
I felt my face flush. I was just in a pair of shorts and my bra. "Sora!" I scolded. "Let's everyone slow down on this, it's just dinner."
She gave me a knowing glance and shook her head a bit. I pulled my shirt back on for the time being.
"What's the problem," she questioned, as she sat next to my slumped body on the bed.
"Nothing I have looks right. Most of what I have is for the tour or for hanging on the bus, and that's not right for dinner." Her eyes lit up a bit as I said this.
"Hang on," she got up and started to rummage through some of her things. After a minute she walked over with a bag and handed it to me. I looked inside and recognized the light pink dress from the day I took TK shopping in the city.
"He gave it to me, to give to you, way back when the tour started but I never felt like it was the right time. Tonight seems right though!" She said, with a spark in her eyes.
It was a pretty little slip dress that would be good for the heat we were in at the moment. It looked like something I would have worn in another life. I felt a little sad looking at it. It didn't feel like me anymore. I couldn't picture it hanging in my closet with all the black and navy clothing I'd collected over the past year.
Sora saw the change in my demeanor, "What's wrong, hun?" She asked, kindly.
"What if he's just looking at the past and hoping for that again?" I placed the dress on the bed, trying to picture myself in it, trying to picture a life that could have been.
"Wait," She placed her hand up between us with a pained look on her face. "Do you not want this to be a date situation, because I think that's what he thinks." She said.
"No … I mean yes? I mean, UGH! I don't know what we are doing. Are we crazy for even doing this? It all feels a little insane after everything that's happened in the past few months. I guess," I collapsed back onto the bed in a huff, "I'm just worried he thinks time didn't change anything, didn't change us." I nervously picked at my cuticles, avoiding her gaze.
"All that from a dress, huh?" She sounded amused but none of it felt funny. "So, I've loved Matt since I was twelve-years-old," She paused, as I looked up at her surprised. "I've been in love with him since I was sixteen-years-old. Since then it's changed, it looks different now, because of the life we've built together. When I moved out here it was different than it had been back home. I was worried for a while that we may have lost something because we'd grown and changed during that time spent apart, but time apart is exactly why we are still together. We were able to grow on our own and become our own people. Yes, our life is together, but if he needed to leave me for 8 months on a tour or something we would be okay because we've already been apart. I don't know if it would be that way if we hadn't had that time. If you and TK hadn't broken up you would have gone to college, graduated, gotten jobs had kids. You would have checked all the boxes you were supposed to check, and ten years later you may have looked back and realized you never actually lived your lives. You leaving him, abet as harsh of a way to go as it was, might be the thing that makes you end up together if that's what you want."
Her logic made sense for her and Matt, but I didn't know if it could be the same for us. I had so much extra baggage. I felt so damaged at this point, a broken doll you kept because of sentimental value, but little else. There were still moments I would flinch if someone reached out too quick, still assuming there would be pain attached at the other end.
She interrupted my self-deprecation, "How long have you loved TK?" I thought about the question and how she phrased it earlier.
"Since I was eight-years-old," I replied.
"How long have you been in love with him?" She asked.
It didn't feel fair. How could I be in love with him now, still? Espically after I was with someone else, who admittedly I don't think I ever truly loved, but still. Everything had been so easy the past few weeks. I felt like I had my best friend back. We had a lot of late nights that we would spend awake just being in each other's space, him writing and me working on arrangements. Other nights, we would talk about school and our friends, we caught up on every little detail of each other's lives. It was the first time I felt truly connected to someone in a long time.
But, if I was being honest with myself, "Since I was seventeen," I said honestly.
She smiled. "Then remember what I said, it's supposed to change. You don't have to be who you were then, he didn't ask that girl out, he asked this one." She plucked the dress off the bed and grabbed the iron, and ironing board, to get all the wrinkles out.
I went into the bathroom and started to reapply my makeup. I put on lotion and finishing powder, drew a thin line on my eyelid with a winged tip, and put on a few layers of mascara. Which was what what I did on any normal day. I straightened my hair a bit to get the kinks out and went to get dressed. Maybe Sora was right, this didn't have to be stressful. Everything up until this point had felt easy, just like it always use to. I didn't need to build it up into something else.
I knocked lightly on Kari's hotel room door and adjusted my shirt. I was having conflicting feelings about tonight. Part of me was worried about things moving too quickly, but at the same time, I also felt like I just wanted to know where we were and what the possibilities were. The past several weeks almost felt like we were together and it was confusing as I was trying to navigate our rekindled friendship. It's like we were right back to where we were during high school.
She appeared at the door, and said goodbye to Sora, before turning to me. I smiled when I saw that she was wearing the dress from back in New York, she looked beautiful in it.
"Hey," Her voice was cheery as she shut the door behind her. "You look nice," She finished, before walking ahead of me towards the elevator.
I wore the blue shirt she picked out from that same trip. It was always the right choice to wear a blue shirt for her, I thought, as my smile grew even wider.
"Thanks, nice dress," I said, teasing her. She looked back and stuck her tongue out at me.
"Thank you, You didn't have to do that," She replied.
"It was worth it. It suits you."
"You don't think it looks too much like I'm trying to play myself from six years ago?"
The brightness she'd had a moment ago was replaced with sadness. I reached out for her as we stopped to wait for the elevator.
"You were beautiful six years ago. You are beautiful now. You were beautiful yesterday. You could wear a sack and it wouldn't matter," The elevator saved me, from her seeing my face heat up. I caught her smile though as we walked in.
"Thank you," She replied, softly.
The rest of the ride down was spent in comfortable silence. We started chatting again once we left the hotel and headed for the restaurant. It always surprised me how easy it was to still find things to talk about even though we were, literally, spending about sixteen hours a day together.
The restaurant was quiet and dimly lit. I tried to find a place that didn't seem like it would be too busy, with her still being anxious in the large crowds during their shows. I figured it would be nice to get a quiet night where she didn't need to be constantly looking over her shoulder. I let her order us a bottle of wine and we got a few smaller plates to share so we could try a bunch of different things.
College came up again, it seemed to be our go-to if there was ever a lull in the conversation since it was the only time we missed in each other's lives.
"Favorite moment?" I questioned.
"My favorite moment?" She asked back.
"Yea like the absolute best thing that happened, or the thing you look back at and smile about the most."
She took a sip of wine and pondered my question, a dreamy look crossed her face. "The first time I went into the city with school we went to go see the New York Philharmonic. Our seats were way up high in one of the balconies, and you know how I hate heights and normally I'd be so afraid, but not there." She let her glass sit back on the table, as she rested her chin in one of her hands, and closed her eyes. She had this way of getting lost in her own stories, taking herself right back to that place.
"I never truly appreciated classical music until that moment. The music would swell and my heart would beat faster, it felt so big, so important. Like, if it wasn't for this music I wouldn't get to perform the way I did." She opened her eyes as a smile grew across her face. She leaned forward, "When we left the theater and stood in Rockefeller Center I looked up at all the buildings around me, and the sky, and felt so overwhelmed with possibility," She paused for another drink. "There in the middle of the pavement I laid down on the ground and looked up at the skyline. I felt home for the first time since I'd been in America. Not being from the country, I felt like an outsider a lot at the beginning of school, but New York felt like it belonged to all of us, even the outsiders." She stopped, sitting back into her seat, and looked sad for a moment. "Then Michael was standing over me and said, 'Get up Kari you're embarrassing me.'" She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. "Isn't that insane, that really was my favorite moment and he even had to go and ruin that."
"I'm sorry," every story she had was similar. They all started out simple enough, but he was always there to make a snide comment, or pull her away from her friends. I hoped she had at least one story he wasn't in but it didn't seem so. He was everywhere.
"Don't be," She waved off my apology. "It was such a lovely night and I wouldn't trade it even if it meant he would have never said it. That was the night I fell in love with New York, he can't take that, even if he ruined one moment in an otherwise perfect night. Tell me yours?"
I sat back and thought for a moment. I didn't have many fun stories, or exciting days, I mostly just studied and wrote. There was one thing I was proud of though.
"I guess, I had this class my junior year. It was a feature writing course, and the entire semester was spent on one story. It was supposed to be something big, like something you would find in a magazine, it was meant to teach us how to find something of human interest that would also be considered newsworthy." I paused trying to be careful of the way I explained it.
"There had been a fire recently in one of the high rises in town and one of the families lost everything. Firefighters had to save the youngest son, Haru, out of the apartment after the family had to leave him behind because the smoke was too thick. He just barely made it, he was a fighter though, making a full recovery after a few months. Their friends had fundraisers for them, children from Haru's school donated clothing, toys, and books to the family. The community really rallied around them. I spent time with them, their neighbors, the school, and Haru. I spent weeks going through those interviews to try to get the story right. I wanted to show how important community was, in a world where we seem to be growing further and further apart."
Ya know," I paused for a drink, thinking back to that time with Haru and his family. It made me miss everyone we'd grown up with and the community we built around each other. "Technology gives us the ability to talk from across the world, but we don't have the same connection to the surrounding community we once did. My professor ended up sending out my story to a few publications and I ended up getting printed in one of the local papers. He was the one who gave me the advice not to write for a daily news publication, he said I would waste away, that I was meant to tell stories. It was the first time in a long time I felt like I had some sort of direction while in school, and it was when I realized how much I'd missed creative writing. I started writing for myself again, after not doing so in a few years. If I ever publish anything else I'll have him to thank."
"Wait, I'm sorry, you were published in college and somehow left that out of every conversation we've had?" She gave me a look that said, 'you're ridiculous.' "Do you have a copy of it somewhere?"
"The story? I mean, I think it's on my computer, I have the clippings back home somewhere at my mom's." I said, trying to think of where I may have packed those away.
"I'd love to read it if you can find it," she said, looking proud.
I didn't like to brag about myself, but it was something I worked really hard on, and I never really talked about it with anyone else. It felt good that she was interested.
She held out the bottle to me, "You can have the rest," I said. She emptied it into her glass and took another sip.
"I have another question," I was feeling bold at the moment, and needed to use it to my advantage while I still had it.
She looked up through her lashes, her eyes responding to my question, asking me to continue.
"What made you say yes to tonight?" I asked, nervously.
I thought about his question. It seemed silly. Why wouldn't I say yes? But then again, it could have set us up for an awkward situation if the night went badly.
"I could never really say no to you." He gave me a strange look, it was almost sheepish, or ashamed even. "Not in a bad or possessive way," I said, to ease his mind. I was fumbling, fuzzy from the wine. "It's just, it was always so easy to say yes. I knew you were never going to steer me wrong. I've always trusted your judgment one hundred percent."
He mulled this over as I spoke, but it wasn't what I wanted to say, and I knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. I was so afraid. It felt too soon, and we both knew it, but at the same time we never abided by what anyone else thought our relationship was supposed to be, so why should we now?
"I'm not sure what we're doing," I finally said, honestly. "It feels fast, but … how can it be fast when we already know everything about each other. I just..." I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling, but as usual, I didn't have to with him. I felt him slide his hand over mine, I laced my fingers in between his, and he rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand.
"No one needs to make any decisions this second. I was just curious." He was right, I didn't need to make any big proclamations. Who knows what would happen in the next few months.
We walked back to the hotel slowly. He had his arm around my shoulders and mine was around his waist, had I seen another couple walking the same way I would have rolled my eyes. Yet, here we were, wrapped around each other like kids again. When we got to the hotel we broke apart, and the silence felt a little heavy once we were inside. We hovered in front of his door for a moment, before he fiddled his key card out of his pocket and put it into the door. He opened it and peaked in, I assume looking for Matt.
He turned back to me, "Wanna come in for a bit?" It wasn't suggestive, the way he said it, but it felt like it might be after our 'date.' Still, I found myself following him into the hotel room he was sharing with his brother, who was probably in my room anyway, so … better here than there.
He collapsed rather dramatically onto his bed, "You okay there?" I asked, amused.
"Yea, honestly, it's just nice to be in here without Matt, anxiously, being anxious," He laughed a bit, "He's excited, and happy, but also in this weird, constant, state of high functioning stress. I'm not sure if it's the tour in general, or what, but it's a little excessive sometimes."
I sat next to him on the bed, scanning through my memories from the tour so far, trying to remember how Matt had been acting. He had been a tad high strung but I figured it was just the tour, but TK probably wouldn't have mentioned it if it was normal behavior.
"I'm sure it's nothing. I wouldn't worry," He said, easily reading the concern on my face. I turned to face him as he was starting to sit up, and we ended up closer than I expected.
"You're probably right," I said, quietly, only half aware of the words as they left my mouth.
His hand came up to the edge of my hair and he played with the ends between his fingers, "I don't know why I even brought it up," his voice was hoarse as he spoke.
I was trying to focus on the conversation and not his fingers in my hair, but between that and the wine, I wasn't succeeding."It's fine, I would be concerned too." I replied, after far too long.
His hand moved to my face. I leaned into it as he tilted my chin up and moved closer.
"ROOM SERVICE," came a loud voice from the other side of the door, accompanied by agressive knocking.
He rested his forehead against mine, "I wonder if Matt ordered something," he said, curiously.
The knocking came again. He huffed, polite as ever, and got up to answer the door. I immediately missed the warmth of him being so close to me.
So much for taking our time, I thought seriously.
He opened the door, and the hotel employee handed him an envelope, "This was asked to be delivered to your room asap. Sorry if I disturbed you." He, quickly, turned and walked away. TK walked into the room with a manila envelope in his hands, his name scratched sloppily on the front.
"Were you expecting something?" I asked.
"No, I mean, I don't know who would leave anything for me, and it wasn't shipped because there isn't any postage or anything," He opened the envelope and pulled out what looked like Polaroid pictures. He flipped through them looking more and more concerned with each one.
"What's wrong?" I asked. The look on his face was starting to scare me.
It looked like he didn't even register my words, as if in an angry daze. He got to a piece of paper and read it before turning to the desk slamming everything down onto it.
I stood up and moved closer to him, "TK what is it," I reached out for him.
"No," He was shaking with anger, his voice was a mix of fear and fury. I immediately backed away, he never spoke to me with any sharpness in his voice and I couldn't imagine what had made him change his demeanor so quickly.
"Should I go?" my voice was shaky as I spoke.
He turned quickly and saw the fear in my eyes. His features softened, and he reached out to me, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," I let him wrap his arms around me. He held me tight, tighter than normal, as if he let go I would disappear.
"TK what's in the envelope?" My voice didn't sound as strong as I wish it had. I was horrified by whatever could change his attitude so suddenly.
As he pulled away I could see the strain in his face, the way he clenched his jaw, and the pain in his eyes.
"I don't want to scare you, but I also can't keep it from you," he paused, pulling me close to him again. "After I show it to you I'm suggesting that we call the police. You might argue with me, but I don't know how to keep you safe from this," His voice was wavering, and I could tell he was holding onto me to keep from shaking, whether it was from fear or anger, I couldn't tell. I hadn't seen him like this since we were young. I felt my heart beating fast, I was almost in a panic, and I didn't even know what those photos were.
He turned around and handed me the small pile. They were all of us from tonight, at dinner, holding hands, walking back to the hotel. I looked up at him curiously. He handed me the paper.
"You might think you can just swoop in, and reclaim something you think once belonged to you, but that's not how the game is going to work. You can look but you can't touch. You can wish but you can't have. She's branded. She's spoken for. It seems as if you need an example of the kind of person you're dealing with. I'll send a message. You'll know it's me when it comes."
The letter wasn't signed but it didn't need it to be. Michael was more of a psychopath than I ever imagined him to be. I was shaking and felt sick to my stomach. I saw TK had more photos in his hand that he hadn't handed me.
"Give them to me," it came out as a whisper, I was afraid to speak like he was listening to us right now.
He reluctantly handed them to me.
I would have fallen to the ground had he not gone to steady me. The photos were of me sleeping in various hotel rooms while on tour, Sora was in some of them as well. I dropped the photos out of my hand and ran into the bathroom, I lurched into the toilet, sobbing after I had emptied the contents of my stomach.
He was stalking me. He was stalking all of us.