February 2022

The restaurant was small, tucked into the quiet corner of a tree-lined street just off Washington Square Park. A soft snow had fallen that morning, leaving the sidewalks damp and glistening, but the sun had since burned through the cloud cover and settled into the kind of pale gold that made the windows shine like amber. Inside, everything felt slow and warm. Candles flickered in little glass jars on each table, and the scent of roasted garlic and toasted bread hung in the air like a soft embrace.

Leia sat across from Taylor at a small round table, her hands curled around a ceramic mug of mint tea. It wasn't what she'd ordered, but the server had forgotten, and Leia hadn't had the heart to correct them. The mug was warm, and it smelled like her grandmother's garden. She found herself holding it just for the comfort of it.

Taylor was mid-story, describing something Riven had said during a press meeting with Tree the day before, her voice light with laughter. She was wearing a navy wool coat over a ribbed turtleneck, her hair loosely curled and slightly wind-tousled from the walk over. There was a faint pink in her cheeks, the kind that only came from cold air and contentment, and it struck Leia just how at peace she looked in this moment.

Leia didn't say much as Taylor talked, but not because she wasn't listening. She was. She always did. It was more that she didn't want to interrupt the quiet rhythm of things, the subtle joy in watching Taylor animated and expressive, telling a story with her hands as much as her voice. Her fingers danced over the rim of her own glass of water, picking at the condensation, pausing only to gesture when she quoted Riven's sarcasm.

Leia smiled. Her food had mostly been picked at, the remains of a late brunch left abandoned on the edge of her plate. Scrambled eggs, roasted tomatoes, a half-finished slice of sourdough. She wasn't hungry. Not in the way she had been before. Everything in her stomach had gone warm and soft the moment Taylor sat down across from her and gave her that look. The one that still caught her off guard. Like Taylor couldn't believe this was real either.

"I don't think he'll ever forgive me for not letting him colour-coordinate the coffee table books, in his office" Taylor was saying now, amusement curling in her voice. "I told him no one's going to notice if the spines clash, and I swear to God, he looked personally betrayed."

Leia let out a soft laugh and set her mug down. "You broke his soul."

"I broke his soul by putting a green book between two blues," Taylor said, dramatically widening her eyes. "It was chaos. Artistic anarchy."

Their eyes met across the table. Something about it made Leia's chest ache in the quietest, sweetest way. It wasn't a new ache. But it had changed. It had softened.

"I like this," she said suddenly.

Taylor blinked. "Riven's distress?"

Leia shook her head, smile still tugging at her lips. "This. Eating out. Together. In public. No disguises. No underground entrances."

Taylor's smile softened into something gentler. "It is nice."

Leia looked around the restaurant. Only three other tables were filled. A young couple near the window, quietly sharing a bowl of soup. An older woman reading a book between bites of salad. A man at the bar typing into his phone. No one was staring. No one had approached. For once, it felt like they were just two people having lunch.

She shifted in her seat and leaned her elbow on the table, chin resting lightly against her knuckles.

"I used to think we'd never get this," she said. "Not without looking over our shoulders."

Taylor didn't respond immediately. Her expression changed slightly, the faintest cloud drifting behind her eyes, but not enough to darken the moment.

"Well," she said, "we did."

Leia looked down at the table, then back up. Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

"So when do we tell them?"

Taylor didn't ask who she meant. She didn't need to. Leia wasn't talking about their friends - that ship had sailed with fireworks and champagne and Cara yelling about lip gloss. She meant the world. The public. The ones who still thought Taylor was shacking it up with Joe and flying between England and New York City on the regular. The ones who had no idea Leia had spent Christmas under the same roof as Scott and Andrea Swift.

Taylor reached for her water and took a slow sip before answering.

"I've been thinking about that too," she said. "I keep waiting to feel afraid again. But I don't. I just... want to tell the truth. I want to be able to walk down the street with you and not care who's watching."

Leia nodded slowly.

"We could do a press release?" Taylor teased gently.

Leia gave her a look. "I will physically hide your phone if you try to post a Notes app screenshot."

Taylor laughed. "Fair."

Leia hesitated, then added, "I think I just want to... exist. Let people see it when they see it. Not perform it."

"I like that," Taylor said. Her eyes softened again. "Just us. Living."

Leia smiled. The sunlight had shifted, casting a glow across the table and catching the gold band on Taylor's ring finger. Not that kind of band, just a vintage piece she liked to wear — but still, it made something warm curl low in Leia's chest.

"We should talk to Tree," Taylor said after a moment. "And Riven."

Leia nodded. "We owe them the heads-up."

"I want them to hear it from us," Taylor said.

Leia reached for her mug again, cradling it between her palms. The mint had gone lukewarm, but she didn't care. She just wanted to keep holding it. It gave her hands something to do, something to settle the sudden flicker of nerves that came with the thought of turning the page. Even when she wanted to. Even when she knew they were ready.

She glanced at Taylor again.

"After this?"

Taylor nodded. "After this."

Leia sipped her tea, letting the warmth settle in her chest as she watched Taylor butter a slice of bread with focused precision. The light caught in her hair. Her lips moved silently as she read over something on her phone, a quick text reply or an update from Riven. She looked calm. Undisturbed. So different from how she'd been a month ago.

So much had changed since Christmas.

In the weeks that followed, they'd told everyone. Not just their closest circle — the ones who had screamed and hugged and demanded every detail — but their families, their teams, their people. The quiet ones. The professional ones. Even the skeptical ones.

And no one had tried to stop them.

Taylor's team had been a bit more reserved. There were logistical questions, naturally. Publicity concerns. Brand alignment talk. But the tone had shifted. Tree, especially, had changed. There was no denying the way she looked at Leia now - not with caution, but with clarity. With loyalty. With care.

The only real outlier had been Joe.

Taylor had met up with him once, in person, for the last time. Leia hadn't asked for details, not at first. But later, curled against Taylor's side in the quiet of her apartment, she had listened as Taylor told her everything.

They'd exchanged a box of belongings. A handful of books. A sweater or two. A vinyl record he'd borrowed and never returned. Joe had apologised for cheating, and it had been soft and awkward, half sincere, half embarrassed. Taylor had told him she didn't need it. That she had moved on. That she wished him peace.

She hadn't cried after. She hadn't even seemed shaken. Just quiet. Tired in that long-exhale kind of way that came when a chapter was truly over.

And then they hadn't seen him again.

What surprised Leia most was how long the media had stayed quiet. The tabloids hadn't caught on. The gossip blogs still believed Taylor and Joe were quietly spending time apart for the holidays. Some were convinced they were taking a break. Others claimed they were still together, just laying low. Tree had apparently been planning to correct the record - to put out a gentle, strategic statement - but she hadn't done it. Taylor hadn't pushed. Leia hadn't either.

It was strange, in a way. The silence. The freedom it gave them.

No one watching. No one asking questions. No prying lenses catching Leia sneaking out a side door or ducking into a car in the early hours. For once, they had space. Just for them.

And it had been enough.

In the quiet of January, Leia had almost finished her album.

She hadn't meant to. The process had been slow before - patchy, stop-start, like trying to find signal in a storm. But something had shifted. Something in her had opened. Songs poured out faster than she could fully catch them. Lyrics that once felt fragile suddenly had weight. She felt clear. Hungry. Full.

Some of the songs weren't about Taylor at all - they were about her sobriety, her friendships, and one about recovering from Dylan. Regardless, all of them carried pieces of her.

Now, sitting here across from her, Leia could feel that quiet current still running under her skin. Inspiration. Fear. Love. It was all tangled together. But it wasn't overwhelming. It was steady.

Taylor looked up from her phone just then, as if sensing the shift in her thoughts. She smiled, setting it facedown on the table.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

Leia smiled back. "Everything."

Taylor reached across the table, brushing her fingers lightly against Leia's wrist. "Good everything or spiral everything?"

Leia tilted her head. "A bit of both."

Taylor hummed, her thumb grazing the inside of Leia's wrist. "I'll take that."

They sat there for another beat, the moment hanging between them like a held breath.

And then Leia glanced at the clock on the far wall.

"We should go," she said, softly. "Tree's going to want at least thirty minutes to rant before we even say anything."

Taylor groaned dramatically. "God help us if she brought charts."

Leia's smile pulled wide. "You love the charts."

"I love Riven's charts," Taylor said, standing and pulling on her coat. "Tree's are terrifying."

Leia stood too, wrapping her scarf loosely around her neck. As they stepped out into the chilled January air, the city moving slow and silver around them, she took Taylor's hand in hers.

They were ready.

Or at least, they thought they were.

_____

Tree's new New York office was tucked into a high-rise near Midtown, all glass walls and minimalist décor, every surface too clean to feel accidental.

It was late afternoon now, the city humming beyond the windows in soft blur, streaks of cloud stretched low over the skyline. Inside, the air smelled faintly like citrus cleaner and eucalyptus - the kind of subtle, expensive scent Tree insisted was "soothing" even though Leia found it slightly intimidating.

Leia was sitting on the long couch with Taylor beside her, their knees nearly touching. A low table sat in front of them, covered with bottles of water, a few magazines with Taylor splashed across the cover, a dish of individually wrapped mints, and a folder that Leia recognised immediately as one of Tree's folders. Black, thick-spined, full of doom.

Across from them, Riven leaned back in one of the mid-century chairs, ankle propped on his knee, a notepad balanced lazily in his lap. He looked... unbothered. Maybe even a little smug. He was wearing a moss-green sweater and a look that said, "I already know everything and I'm just here to supervise your chaos."

Tree hadn't sat down yet.

She was pacing... slowly, methodically, in sleek boots that made no sound against the rug. She'd looked delighted when they first walked in, her hug for Taylor warm, her expression almost giddy. But the giddiness had faded when Taylor said it.

"We want to go public."

That was five minutes ago. Tree hadn't spoken since. Not really. Just paced.

Leia could feel Taylor tense beside her, not in a sharp way, just in that subtle way she always did when she was trying not to lose patience with a process. Leia reached down and brushed her fingers against the inside of Taylor's palm, then rested her hand lightly on her knee.

Tree stopped pacing.

She turned to face them, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that today."

Leia blinked. "We thought you'd be happy."

"I am happy," Tree said, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in her tone. "But happy doesn't mean ready."

Taylor narrowed her eyes, just slightly. "You knew we were together. You've known since before New Year's. You didn't say anything."

"I didn't say anything," Tree echoed, "because I was hoping to fix something before you brought this to the table. But since we're here..."

She stepped toward the table, picked up the folder, and opened it with the kind of flair that made Leia's stomach twist a little.

Riven didn't move. He was watching Tree like he was watching a slow-motion car crash he'd predicted and placed bets on. His smile had dropped now, not having realised that there was a reason beyond his knowledge that she had been pacing for.

"There's a complication," Tree said. "One I've been trying to resolve with the legal team."

Leia felt Taylor shift beside her. "What kind of complication?"

Tree hesitated. For the first time since they walked in, she looked... not rattled, exactly, but frustrated in a way that felt sharp-edged and controlled.

"The original PR agreement between you and Joe," she said, looking directly at Taylor. "It was never fully voided. The lawyers on both sides were working on a dissolution draft last fall, but somewhere in the process - and I'm not pointing fingers - it apparently didn't get finalised. It's technically still binding."

Leia frowned. "Wait. Are you saying...?"

Tree nodded once.

"Yes. On paper, Taylor and Joe are still in a PR relationship."

What the fuck?

The words settled into the room like a gust of cold air.

Taylor leaned forward, her voice low and incredulous. "That's impossible. He knows we're done. I've seen him since Christmas. We returned each other's things. He apologised to me."

"I know," Tree said quietly. "And I believe that he meant it. From what I've heard, Joe isn't the one pushing this."

Leia's pulse picked up. She was sitting very still, but her hand was clenched lightly around the hem of her coat.

"Then who is?"

"His team," Tree said. "They've been quietly circulating content. No statements, nothing overt, just enough to keep the narrative alive. Old photos re-shared. Anonymous 'close sources' commenting on timelines like discussing marriage and buying a house together etcetera. Things that make it seem like the two of you are just... laying low."

Taylor's jaw locked. "And they're allowed to do this because of a mistake in the paperwork?"

"Technically, yes."

"And what if we say something," Taylor's voice was sharper now "if we just go public anyway?"

Tree closed the folder. Her tone was calm, but firm.

"If we push back publicly before the agreement is formally voided, there's a chance they could challenge it. And that could mean legal action. Which would expose the agreement. The entire agreement."

Riven finally spoke for the first time. His voice was quiet, even. "And that would be a mess - for us all."

Taylor sat back, breathing through her nose.

Leia looked at her. Her brow was furrowed now, her mouth pressed in that way she always did when she was holding too much back. She wasn't looking at anyone else in the room.

Leia didn't care about the contract. She didn't care what the headlines would say. She didn't even care that they couldn't post a picture or hold hands on a sidewalk or walk into an award show together next month. Not really.

What she cared about was how deeply this hurt Taylor. How something so private could be twisted again. How someone else's decisions still had a grip on her peace.

Taylor turned to Tree. "How long until the paperwork is fixed?"

"We're working on it," Tree said. "I've got people on it now, but it's not going to happen overnight. It could be weeks. Maybe months."

Taylor shook her head. "That's ridiculous."

"I agree," Tree said. "But if we make noise before it's settled, you risk exposing the contract. And I know you don't want that."

Leia spoke then, her voice soft. "Is there any way around it?"

Tree sighed.

"Not a clean one. We could leak it. Force their hand. But then we're playing in the mud. And I don't want you two starting out in the middle of a PR war."

There was a long pause. Taylor didn't speak. Riven flipped his notepad closed.

Leia reached over and gently touched Taylor's wrist.

"Hey," she said, quiet. "It's okay."

Taylor didn't look at her. "No. It's not. I don't want to ask you to hide again."

Leia's heart clenched. She shifted closer. "This isn't hiding. This is waiting. There's a difference."

Taylor finally looked at her.

"This isn't like last time," Leia said gently. "Back then, I didn't know what we were. I was scared of what it meant to keep us quiet. But now? I know exactly what this is. And I'm not scared anymore. I'm just mad it's hurting you."

Taylor's jaw softened. Her eyes, bright with frustration a moment ago, flickered with something else.

Leia kept her voice steady. "We'll deal with it. Together."

Tree exhaled quietly. "I wish I had better news."

"You'll tell us as soon as you do?" Taylor asked.

"You'll be the first call," Tree said, nodding.

Leia managed a small smile, but something in her chest felt heavier now - like the lightness she'd carried with her into the room had quietly slipped through a crack in the floor. She hated that. Hated how quickly joy could be eclipsed by something technical, something as cold and calculated as paperwork and contracts and media perception.

This wasn't the same as before, but it stirred the memory of it anyway. The long stretches of secrecy. The months spent slipping out of cars with her hood up and her heart pounding. The rehearsed lines, the swallowed truths, the ache of being close to someone and pretending she wasn't.

Only now, she wasn't scared of being unseen.

She was scared of what it did to Taylor. How easily it could re-open things she thought she'd left behind. Taylor had spent so long clawing her way back from other people's stories - from the curated versions of her life that strangers pieced together in headlines and hashtags. And now, just when they'd found their footing, when things had started to feel real and simple and theirs again - someone else was still pulling the strings.

Leia tightened her grip on Taylor's hand, not for reassurance, but for connection. Just to feel her there. Solid and warm and real.

This didn't change how she felt. It didn't shake anything loose. If anything, it made her more certain.

She would wait. A week. A month. However long it took. Not because she had to — but because it was worth it.

Because Taylor was worth it.

And because this time, they were walking through it together.

____

March 2022

"I want to ask Taylor to move in with me."

Drew turned around to look at Leia, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth open in surprise, as if he was hallucinating that she had just said that in an empty and quiet car to him. Azul, who had been sitting in the passenger seat beside him, also turned around in surprise.

Leia immediately cringed. Not visibly. Not out loud. But inside, her brain started doing the thing. The scramble.

"I mean, not like... tomorrow," she added, too quickly. "And obviously I haven't brought it up with her. We've barely had a minute to breathe this year and I know the whole Joe PR thing still sucks and she's in the middle of album stuff for both of us and it's probably the worst possible timing, and I don't want it to seem like I'm pushing for something or trying to fix the wait with a big gesture or whatever."

She stopped. Took a breath. Her fingers tugged lightly at the hem of her coat. Her knee bounced once.

"I've just been thinking about it."

The car was warm. They'd been sitting in the underground garage for maybe fifteen minutes now, parked outside the building where Taylor was upstairs in a creative strategy meeting about her upcoming album. Leia had insisted on waiting in the car, partly because she'd needed the quiet and partly because Taylor had asked her to.

For a while, no one had said much. Azul had been scrolling through his phone. Drew had been listening to some old live Bruce Springsteen bootleg through the car's Bluetooth speaker. Leia had been staring at a patch of concrete wall and quietly rearranging the furniture in her head.

Now, the silence was alive again — not tense, just surprised.

"I'm not saying I want her to, like, pack up her life and drop everything and move into my slightly-too-small apartment where the hot water never lasts through a full shower," Leia went on, the words spilling now. "I just... I don't know. I want to have her around more. I want to come home to her. I want us to make coffee in the same kitchen and bicker about how I fold towels wrong."

She looked down at her hands, then out the window toward the elevator bay, her reflection faint in the glass.

"But also," she said, "her place is really nice."

Azul coughed, biting back a smile.

"I'm serious," Leia said. "She's got heated floors. And like... crown moulding. I didn't even know what crown moulding was until I saw her apartment. And her oven actually cooks things evenly."

She paused again.

"So maybe I don't actually want her to move into mine. Maybe I want to move into hers. But that feels weird, right? Like how do you ask someone to move in with you but also be like, 'Hey, can it be your place instead because mine is not as nice and your bathtub is glorious?'"

She buried her face in her hands, laughing softly into her palms. "God. I sound insane."

Drew finally let out a quiet huff of laughter, leaning forward with his arms on the wheel.

"You sound like someone in love," he said simply.

Azul nodded. "And someone who's thought about this a lot more than she's letting on."

Leia lifted her head just enough to squint at both of them. "Is it too soon?"

"Too soon for what?" Drew asked. "Wanting to build a life with the person you've already fought your way back to?"

Leia stared at him. He shrugged.

"I'm not the poetic one. But no. It's not too soon."

Azul gave her a gentle smile. "You two have always done things at your own pace. Why should this be any different?"

Leia leaned back in her seat, exhaling like the thought alone had taken up half her lungs.

She had been thinking about it. Not constantly, but often enough that it had woven itself into the quiet spaces of her day - when she picked up two coffees instead of one, when she caught herself rearranging her closet to make room, when she slept better in Taylor's bed than she ever did in her own.

And it wasn't about needing more. It wasn't about fixing something. It was just... the next right thing.

She wanted Taylor. All the time. In ordinary ways. In toothbrushes side by side and groceries with both of their favourite snacks and late night piano chords drifting in from the other room while Leia scribbled lyrics on a napkin.

She didn't want to announce it. Didn't want to post about it or make it a symbol or a milestone or a headline. She just wanted to wake up next to her every day and not have to leave.

Leia sighed. "She's going to make fun of me if I ask and immediately say I want to live at hers."

"No, she won't," Azul said with a small shake of his head.

"She'll probably just say finally," Drew added.

The elevator dinged softly in the distance.

Leia straightened a little in her seat. Azul casually turned to look out the windshield. Drew reached over to lower the music just as Taylor stepped through the doors of the building, her coat draped over one arm and her tote bag slung loosely over the other shoulder. She was on her phone, head tilted slightly, nodding at something Tree was saying behind her. A second later, she laughed, waved, and hung up, her pace picking up as she crossed toward the car.

The door opened. Cool air swept in with her.

"Hey," Taylor said, breath a little visible as she climbed in beside Leia, her cheeks flushed from the wind. "Sorry that took forever. They fed me a muffin halfway through and I lost track of time."

Leia smiled quickly. "It's okay."

Taylor buckled her seatbelt, glancing around the car. "What've you all been doing?"

Leia's mouth opened. Then paused.

"Not much," she said instead, leaning back slightly. "Mostly just sitting here roasting Drew's music taste."

Drew snorted, the kind of sound that came from someone trying very hard not to give something away. Azul, to his credit, blinked innocently at the rearview mirror.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, but let it go. She leaned over to give Leia a quick kiss on the cheek, her lips soft and cold from outside. Leia's face warmed instantly.

"Brutal," Taylor said with a smirk.

Leia smiled again, but her mind was already ten steps back. She was still inside the thing she hadn't said.

How did people do this? How did people look at someone they loved and say, Move in with me. How did they make it sound casual and romantic at the same time? Leia was still stuck on the logistics. On how to word it without sounding like she was trying to merge bank accounts. On how to ask to live in Taylor's place without sounding like she was angling for a change of address just for the closet space.

Taylor shifted beside her, buckling in and adjusting the heat.

"So... how was the meeting?" Leia asked, too brightly.

"Actually good," Taylor said, leaning back against the seat. "They approved an October album cycle. We're aiming to announce sometime in August - maybe at an award show or some fun thing with the fans if not, and then like do the usual ramp-up after that."

Leia nodded slowly. She kept her face composed, but her heart did a little leap. That was real. That was a date. That meant songs, and shoots, and Taylor slipping into that version of herself who carried the weight of a thousand moving parts like it was second nature.

"That's solid," she said. "You excited?"

"I think so," Taylor said, with a small shrug. "It still feels far away, but it's the right window. Fall fits the record."

Leia tried to picture it. She could already hear the interviews, the guest spots, the slow-release rollout that always made her albums feel like seasons of their own. She wasn't sure if that was something Taylor even needed to do these days.

"I'm thinking June for mine," Leia said, watching Taylor's profile. "Announce in May. Do a few shows leading into it."

Taylor's head turned, her brows lifting in surprise. "Really?"

Leia nodded. "Yeah. It's mostly done. Just need to polish the last track or two."

Which was true. But also, she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it yet — how much of this record had been built on the soft landing of being loved again. How many lyrics traced back to Sunday mornings with Taylor curled against her, or the quiet of her own mind feeling less like an echo chamber and more like a home.

"That's cute," Taylor said, smiling again. "We're going to be releasing near each other. Accidental power couple era."

Leia laughed softly. "We'll just take turns topping the charts. Keep it fair."

That brought a grin from Taylor, one of those small ones that barely reached the corner of her mouth but always made Leia's chest do a slow somersault.

Taylor leaned back, adjusting the hem of her coat.

"Some of my songs might need to be slightly different if the PR thing isn't resolved in time, though."

Leia's breath caught.

She kept her smile, but it dimmed a little. "How different?"

"Just framing," Taylor said with a sigh. "I hate that word. But Tree thinks it's safer if I keep anything remotely personal a little ambiguous until the lawyers sort things. Just... pronouns."

Leia nodded, even though it made her stomach twist. Not because she didn't understand. Not because she didn't believe in the strategy. But because she hated that Taylor still had to think in those terms. That even in her art, there were edits being made for the sake of optics. For the comfort of people who weren't even in the room.

"It won't be like that forever," Taylor added gently. "Just a buffer."

"I know," Leia said. "It's not me that I'm sad for."

She looked out the window again as Drew pulled into traffic, the garage fading behind them and the city beginning to unfold ahead. A couple crossed the street holding hands. A man in a puffer jacket balanced a pizza box and a bouquet of flowers.

She imagined Taylor in her apartment, barefoot, humming without realising it as she made tea. She imagined unpacked boxes. Shoes in the hallway. Groceries for two. She imagined waking up to her, going to sleep beside her, building a life in the spaces that didn't have to be seen to be real.

They fell into a comfortable silence.

How do you say, I love you so much I want to share a shower schedule with you.

Also, your kitchen is better.

By the time they reached Taylor's apartment, the sky had deepened into a soft violet. The sun had already disappeared behind the skyline, leaving only a thin blush along the edge of the horizon. Streetlights flickered on one by one below them, casting long golden streaks across the windows as the elevator rose floor by floor.

Leia kept her hands in her coat pockets the whole ride up. She could still feel the shape of the thought sitting there, weightless and loud — I want to live with you. I want this to be home. But she didn't speak. Not yet. She told herself to wait for a quieter moment.

When they stepped into the apartment, the air was warm and still, touched with the faint scent of rosemary and candle wax. The floor was scattered with a few toys, a blanket half-folded on the arm of the couch. The cats were nowhere in sight, probably curled in sun-warmed corners or atop heated bathroom tiles, as was their way.

But Tate was there.

He rushed forward the moment they opened the door, tail wagging so hard his whole back half followed. His paws slipped slightly on the polished floor as he skidded to a stop in front of Leia and gave a triumphant bark, like they'd been gone for a year and he was the sole guardian of this fortress in their absence.

Leia knelt down and immediately buried her face in his fur. He smelled like Taylor's laundry detergent and a bit like the treat drawer.

"Hey, you," she whispered, scratching behind his ears. "You've been holding the fort?"

He gave a low huff and pressed into her hand.

Taylor stepped around them to drop her bag on the kitchen island, and Tate trotted after her like he needed to make his report. Leia followed more slowly, her heart full in a way that made it hard to walk in a straight line.

She loved this apartment. The windows. The light. The books that weren't quite alphabetised but lived in soft piles across shelves and coffee tables. The music that was always playing low from a speaker hidden behind a plant. The framed photos near the entryway — most of them old tour moments and friends' weddings, but a few newer ones now too.

Tate had a basket here now too. A spot. He slept beside the couch without protest. He had memorised the sounds of the building, the smell of Taylor's shampoo. And Leia knew, in the quiet corners of her mind, that she had too.

It already felt like half her life lived here. All that was missing was the rest of her stuff.

Taylor had pulled out a carton of eggs from the fridge and was rummaging for something else when she glanced back. "You want pasta tonight?"

Leia blinked. "Yeah, sure."

Taylor nodded and turned back to the pantry. "We've got that chickpea stuff you like. And I think there's fresh parmesan if Jack didn't steal it when he was here last."

Leia leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes drifting over the kitchen like she was trying to memorise it for the hundredth time. The backsplash. The clean, white dishes stacked in the open shelves. The scent of olive oil that always seemed to linger.

She felt quiet.

Taylor moved easily around the space, barefoot, humming something under her breath. A melody Leia didn't recognise yet - maybe one of the new ones... Taylor was adamant that she wasn't allowed to hear the rest of the album until it was just before release. She cracked an egg with one hand, tossed the shell into the compost bin, and started slicing garlic with practiced ease. Tate hovered near the stove, nosing at the floor hopefully.

Leia didn't speak. She didn't know how.

She kept watching her girlfriend, the curve of her spine, the way she tapped the knife twice against the board in rhythm, the little sway of her hips as she shifted from stove to counter and back again. She was thinking about bathroom towels again. And toothbrushes. And grocery lists written with both their initials.

Taylor stirred the garlic into the pan, the scent curling into the air.

"Hey," she said after a beat, her tone gentler now. "You've gone quiet."

Leia looked up. "Just thinking."

Taylor didn't press, but her eyes lingered. She moved to the cabinet, pulled down two bowls, then hesitated.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Leia blinked. "For what?"

Taylor leaned her hip against the counter, her hands braced on either side of the stove.

"About the lyrics thing. I know you don't care about the headlines, but I also know how it feels to be... adjusted. I hate that you're even remotely a part of that again."

Leia opened her mouth, but no sound came.

Taylor kept going, her voice low but steady. "But I just- I don't want to hurt you by doing it."

Leia shook her head quickly, stepping forward, her hands rising a little in front of her like she could wave the guilt away.

"Taylor," she said.

But then she stopped.

And instead of something measured, something delicate, what came out was blunt. Honest.

"I want to live with you."

Taylor stilled.

Leia's heart pounded so hard it felt like a second voice.

"I mean-" She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "I've been thinking about it. For weeks. Maybe longer. I didn't mean to say it like that, I was going to bring it up properly, like a functioning human person, but then you started apologising and it just... came out. I'm not quite because I'm annoyed or upset or whatever, I'm quiet because I just couldn't work out what to say to you."

Taylor blinked, eyes wide, a faint pink rising in her cheeks.

Leia kept going, unable to stop now.

"And I know I said live with you, which probably makes it sound like I'm asking you to move into my place, but honestly, your apartment is so much nicer. Your bathtub alone is probably worth more than my security deposit, and I love it here. I love how it smells. I love how the light looks in the morning. I love that Tate knows where the treat drawer is. And I just... I want to come home to this. To you."

Taylor's lips parted slightly, like she was still catching up.

Leia's voice dropped, softer now.

"I don't care if it's your name on the lease or if my stuff lives in a guest room until we figure it out. I just want to start building this for real. If you want that too."

There was a long, thick pause. The garlic started to crisp.

And then Taylor crossed the space between them, slow and certain.

She placed her hands on either side of Leia's face, her thumbs brushing her cheeks like she was afraid she might disappear if she didn't hold her still.

"I've wanted that since you walked into my life" she whispered. "Yes. Yes."

Leia exhaled, everything in her chest loosening at once.

Taylor kissed her, slow and deep and warm like the apartment around them. When they pulled apart, Taylor rested her forehead against Leia's and smiled.

"You can move in," she said. "Just don't make me alphabetise your books."

Leia laughed, breathless. "No promises."

Behind them, Tate barked once, as if seconding the vote.

Dinner burned slightly. Neither of them cared.