Jaylor / Taylor Swift One shots

Panic or heart attack?

          **Emetophobia Warning**(Just means throw up)

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  "But where are we going?" Taylor had to duck to avoid smacking her head against a low growing branch.

"Just for a wander into the woods," Joe answered, "It's alright Taylor, chill..."

It was that last word which was the hardest to follow – try as hard as she might, Taylor just couldn't loosen the tight, panicked knot in her chest. It had been Joe's suggestion – a weekend away in a cabin up in the Lakes. Away from paparrazzi and drama, work and rumors – just the two of them in the wild.

Joe walked alongside Taylor, every so often throwing cautious glances at her like she might be able to explode. Taylor was trying to control the burning anxious pit in her stomach, repeating that everything was going to be just fine. No one would see them, they were safe. Right?

Then Joe turned off down a gentle slope, leading away from the path, and Taylor's throat tightened all over again.

"Babe, I think we should stick to the path," She tried to sound light and casual, but wasn't sure she'd pulled it off.

"It's fine!" Joe laughed, his eyebrows wiggling high up on his forehead. "It's just a bit of adventure – off the beaten track." He sounded so self-assured that Taylor felt she couldn't argue.

Taylor could hear her pulse – loud and fast – in her ears as she followed Joe down the slope.

The trees grew denser, and Taylor ended up walking hunched over so that her head would miss the tree branches. The canopy above was getting so thick that almost no light was reaching where they walked.

Taylor glanced up at the foliage, and suddenly he felt like the leaves and branches were closing in above him.

"Can you  remember which way we came in through?" Joe's voice rang through the clearing; everyone looked around, trying to locate which of the trees they came from.

"Is It that way to get back? Joe was pointing in the opposite direction.

"I can't remember," He said. The tightness in Taylor's chest clenched again; they were lost – in the middle of the woods with no idea how to get out.

She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught at the back of her mouth. The trees above her were definitely getting closer, the light fading rapidly from the clearing. She leant against a tree, trying to steady the shaking of her knees. She knew something like this would happen! She knew they'd get lost, then it'd get dark and there'd be no way for them to find their way back – and no one knew they were out here.

The only thing that matters to her muddled brain is the fact that she is having a heart attack. She is so certain of this that it sets deep within her a sick sense of doom. She's still young. She can't be having a heart attack. Right? So she repeats that to herself. I am not having a heart attack. I am not having a heart attack. I am not having a heart attack.

"Taylor?" She heard her name, and realised she'd closed her eyes as thoughts overtook her. When she opened them Joe was peering into her face, her pale face glowing like a ghost in the darkness. "Are you okay?" His hand was on her shoulder, then she exclaimed: "God Taylor, you're shaking!"

He says something else, too, but Taylor can't hear it over the constant slamming noise of the blood in his head. She's nauseous, and she swallows it down thickly.

It comes in waves— this overwhelming feeling of true terror, this sickening sense of doom. She couldn't reply, her throat was closing up inside hierand each breath was more difficult than the one before it. Her head swam and her insides clenched up. She doesn't know what to do. She's never thought about what to do in the case of her having a heart attack. She's never thought about it, because it doesn't happen to people like her.

"Taylor!" Joe's hands gripped him tightly, giving him a little shake. "Taylor, take a deep breath. We're fine – we're not lost."

Lost. That word echoed in Taylor's brain, and she suddenly realised how dry her mouth was – and a wave of nausea hit him, her stomach flipping over inside her.

"Come on Taylor, deep breath now." Joe repeated, giving him another small shake that upset his stomach more. She tried to take a breath, but it caught at the back of his throat and made her gag.

Taylor whimpers. Her body quivers with the involvement of the noise. Her chest hurts, her stomach hurts, hier head hurts. It hurts. It pounds with the inflammation of her airways. She needs to stand up. She needs to call nine-one-one. She needs to get to a hospital so she won't die. She needs to tell Joe. She tries to, but she's pretty sure it comes out garbled. She can't hear herself.

"You're not having a heart attack," Joe says, reassuring. "You're having a panic attack, okay? It'll be over soon, I'm right here with you." "You aren't going to die," Joe says. "Can you hear me?" Taylor nods, squeezing her eyes shut as tight as possible.

The first heave was very dry; Taylor's heart was racing against the knot in her chest, and her stomach churning. She didn't even have time to warn Joe before the second heave gripped her. She was sure he could feel the contents of his stomach forcing its way up her esophagus, then it was in her mouth. She pitched forwards, and the ground at her feet was coated in his vomit.

Joe had moved, Taylor could feel a hand gently patting her back and saying: "You're okay, when you can take a deep breath."

But Taylor couldn't take a breath, almost instantly his mouth was refilled with sour liquid and another wave of puke hit the forest floor, soaking into the soil and leaving a dark mark. Her stomach was still contracting, the air catching in his chest as she retched again. The hand on her back was rubbing up and down her spine as she dry heaved repeatedly.

"Just give him a minute," Joe was saying. "You'll be okay – I promise."

"Deep breath Tay," Joe's voice was clear, "In through your nose, out through your mouth." Taylor managed the in bit.

"That's it, keep going." Joe encouraged, his hand still rubbing on Taylor's back.

"I..." Taylor tried to speak, but her throat was gravelly; she was still trembling from head to foot. "I really need to get out of here." She struggled weakly.

"That's okay," Joe said patiently, "Just catch your breath for a second then we'll get out."

Taylor felt like he'd been hit by a bus, weak and shaky all over.

"Please, can we just go." Taylor urged, the panicked sensation rising in his chest again. Jude grabbed hold of Taylor's trembling hand and said:

"Alright, let's go."

After a few steps Taylor relaxes, sinking to the ground. Joe starts to let go. Taylor's brain snaps to attention, and her breath hitches. Taylor doesn't even need to say anything for Joe to immediately go back to the bear-hug.

"Okay, I'm not letting go, I won't let go," Joe says. Taylor settles into his warmth, allowing himself to come to the natural conclusion of comfort and safety. "I'm right here, love, I'm not going anywhere."

Taylor nods. It's all she can do, really. Her lungs feel raw, and the back of her throat feels dry, like she just got over a bad cold. Her eyes feel tender and puffy, cheeks feel uncomfortably dry with the after-effects of evaporated tears. "I'm sorry," Taylor chokes out when she's finally able to speak. Joe shakes his head; Taylor feels it.

"Don't," Joe replies. "It's not your fault... do you want to take a minute to just sit?"

Taylor nods.

That's what they do. Wrapped in each others comfort until calmness overtakes them.