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Re: Mental Issues Turned into a Life Long Love

Christian stood on the other side of the door, his palm pressed flat against the cool surface, exactly where hers rested. He could feel the faint vibration of her voice through the metal — and when she started to sing, his eyes closed.

Her voice.

Even muffled by walls and distance, it wrapped around him like gravity.

He let her finish the first verse before he spoke, his voice low but steady — not weak, not doubting, not shaken.

"Taylor... you are not a bad girl."

He leaned his forehead against the door now, breathing slowly, grounding himself in her presence.

"You made mistakes. We all have. That doesn't make you broken. It doesn't make you unworthy of love. It makes you human."

His voice thickened slightly, but he didn't let it crack.

"And as for Clay and Ryan... yes, you hurt them. But fear doesn't get to run your life anymore. You tell them the truth because it's the right thing to do. Not because you're scared. Not because you think you deserve punishment."

He swallowed.

"You tell them because those twins deserve honesty. And because you deserve to stop carrying all of this alone."

He exhaled slowly and shifted his hand slightly, fingers spreading as if he could lace them with hers through the barrier.

"You think I don't know you've done things you regret?" he asked softly. "I know. I can hear it in your voice every time you talk about your past. But I don't love you in spite of those things. I love you including them. Every scar. Every wrong turn. Every regret."

He let the silence sit between them for a moment — warm instead of empty.

"And don't you dare talk like I'm the reason the sun rises," he added gently, a faint smile in his voice. "You were light long before I found you. I just reminded you of it."

He breathed in when she said she wanted him to be part of her family.

"That's all I want," he admitted. "Not some perfect fantasy. Not some fairytale house. I want you. I want the twins. I want the messy dinners and the late nights and you writing music at two in the morning because you can't sleep."

He let out a quiet, almost breathless laugh.

"And yes... maybe someday a white picket fence."

His tone softened again.

"But hear me, Taylor. We're not waiting to be good until we're free. We start now. You start now. No more running. No more hiding behind guilt. When we walk out of here, you walk out honest. Strong. Ready to face what you've done — and ready to build something better."

He paused.

"And if jail is part of making things right?" His voice didn't waver. "Then we face that too. Together. I won't disappear because you told the truth."

There was quiet again. Not empty — full.

Then he lowered his voice almost to a whisper.

"I miss you too. Every second. And I love you more than walls or mistakes or fear."

He pressed his forehead harder against the door.

"And when we get out of here... you're going to sing that song on a stage. Not through a wall."

A soft breath.

"And I'll be in the front row."

Re: Mental Issues Turned into a Life Long Love

The door hadn't even finished locking before Christian leaned forward, pressing his palm flat against the cold metal as if he could reach her through it.

His voice came low under the harsh buzzing lights:

"Taylor... listen to me. We'll take the easy way. No shots. No restraints."
There was a strain in his tone—like he was holding back the urge to fight the orderlies for even touching her.
"I want to walk out of here on my own two feet so I can get to you as soon as they let us out."

He slid down until he was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, breathing slow so she wouldn't hear the anger still simmering in him.

A moment passed.

Then his voice softened into something warm and raw:

"I love you too. And nothing they do to us in here is gonna change that."

He let his head rest against the wall behind him, staring up at the tiny camera in the corner.

"And Tay... I want a future with you. A real one."
"A home. A life outside these walls. A chance to sit at a kitchen table and laugh without worrying someone's listening in."

He exhaled shakily.

"And yeah... we should tell Ryan and Clay about the twins. They deserve to know where you've been and what's been happening."
He paused, then added gently:
"But they're your family. Not mine. I just... want to be part of your world, if you'll let me."

He angled himself toward the small tray window in the door, as if he could feel her sitting on the other side doing the same.

A quiet laugh passed through his lips.

"And trust me—when you meet my mother... she's gonna try to smuggle us out of this place herself."

Then, more serious:

"Whatever you have to tell me about your past... I want to hear it. All of it. When we're out of these rooms, when it's just you and me."

He reached up and tapped twice on the metal—
their little signal.
Their promise.

"And Taylor...?"
His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her.
"I'm already missing you. And I don't care how long they lock us in here... I'll be waiting the second that door opens."

Two rooms.
One hallway.
No way to touch.
But Christian held onto her voice, her smile, her promise—
as tightly as he had held her hand moments before.

Re: Mental Issues Turned into a Life Long Love

Christian barely had time to breathe after that last kiss before Taylor pulled back, and he just stared at her — breathless, dazed, and completely gone for her. His hands stayed on her waist, almost like he was afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

"Taylor..." he whispered, voice thick, raw, and full of everything he couldn't say in front of the hallway eyes that were slowly closing in on them. "I don't just promise — I swear it. Every part of it. Your babies, ours, a whole damn life if you'll have me."

He leaned his forehead gently against hers, trying to savor the last few seconds before the orderlies reached them.

"And if they wanna separate us for a bit," he murmured, "then they're just gonna have to deal with the fact I'm not goin' anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

He heard the footsteps getting closer and glanced over her shoulder before returning his eyes to hers, softer now, almost pleading.

"And yeah... I'll call my mama," he added quietly. "She'll help. You know she will. She's gonna love you, Taylor. She already does, and she ain't even met you proper."

Christian brushed his thumb across her cheek, giving her one last look filled with fire, devotion, and stubborn determination.

"They can drag me down that hall if they want," he whispered, leaning in as if he still had time for one more kiss. "But they ain't takin' you outta my life. Not again."

Just before the orderlies reached them, he squeezed her hand — one last secret promise in the space between their palms.

Re: Mental Issues Turned into a Life Long Love

Christian looked at her, his eyes softening as he reached up and brushed away one of her tears with his thumb. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice rough but warm. "You don't have to thank me for that. You're the strongest woman I've ever met, Taylor. And those kids—your kids—they know it too. They've got your fire, your heart."

He shifted a little closer, letting her rest against him more comfortably. "You're right... we are a mess," he said with a small chuckle that carried a trace of pain. "But it's our kind of mess. The kind that somehow fits together."

Christian leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment. "When we get out of here, we'll make that place real. A home that's just ours. No more running, no more fear. Just... peace."

He opened his eyes again, his voice lower now, steady and sure. "I love you too, Taylor. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

Re: Mental Issues Turned into a Life Long Love

Christian shuffled into the game room a little slower than usual, his hoodie hanging off his shoulders like a shield against the world. His eyes darted around the room, scanning the familiar corners before settling on Taylor by the window. For a second, he hesitated—he always did—like he wasn't sure if he could handle someone else's pain on top of his own. But then he saw the way her shoulders sagged, the quiet tears she tried to wipe away, and his chest tightened.

He walked over, dragging out the chair beside her with a squeak. "You're crying again," he said softly, his voice carrying both concern and a weary kind of recognition. His fingers tapped against his knee, a nervous tic he couldn't stop. "I... I hate seeing you like this."

Christian leaned forward, staring out the same window, as if by looking where she looked he could share the weight she carried. "I know it sucks in here. Feels like the walls are pressing in some days." His voice cracked a little, betraying how much his own mind haunted him. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"You're thinking about your babies, aren't you?" he added gently. "Every time you look out there... I can see it." He swallowed hard, blinking quickly, because the thought of her kids being away from her stirred up his own fears of abandonment.

Finally, he turned toward her, his expression raw but steady. "Listen... I might be a mess, Tay. God knows I am. But I'm not going anywhere. You got me in here. Always. So... you don't have to sit by the window alone, okay?"

He reached out, almost awkwardly, and laid his hand over hers. His palm was a little clammy, his touch uncertain, but his grip was firm enough to say what words couldn't: he wasn't letting go.