getaway car - tayvis ✧˚ · .

- 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 -

The stage lights were blinding, as they always were. Taylor stood at the edge of the stage, the crowd roaring louder than the pulse pounding in her temples. It was a scene she had seen and felt a thousand times, yet tonight something was different. A gnawing sensation clawed at her stomach, an unease she couldn't quite place. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling.

"Are you ready, Nashville?" she called into the microphone, the cheers of the crowd washing over her like a tidal wave.

As the band struck up the opening chords of "Cruel Summer," Taylor moved to the rhythm, her voice strong and clear. The crowd sang along, their energy infectious. But as the song progressed, the nagging feeling of unease grew stronger. She felt a wave of dizziness, her vision blurring at the edges. She pushed through, refusing to let it affect her performance.

By the time she reached the chorus, the lights seemed unbearably bright, and she was starting to feel alarmingly hot. Taylor took another deep breath, trying to ground herself. She had a whole set ahead of her, and the last thing she wanted was to let her fans down.

"Taylor, are you okay?" her guitarist, Paul, whispered during a brief instrumental break.

She nodded, forcing a smile. "Just a bit hot," she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

The song ended, and Taylor took a moment to address the crowd, masking her discomfort with her usual charm. "You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for being here tonight. This is one of my favorite cities to perform in."

The crowd roared in response, and Taylor felt a momentary surge of adrenaline. But as the band launched into "Delicate," she felt the dizziness return with a vengeance. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy. She struggled to keep her balance, feeling the world spin around her.

As she reached the bridge, she felt her knees buckle. Desperately, she grabbed onto the microphone stand for support, her vision darkening at the edges. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the concerned faces of her bandmates and the startled expressions of her fans.

Part 2: A Caring Touch

Taylor awoke to the sensation of cool hands on her forehead and the distant hum of worried voices. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was backstage, lying on a couch in her dressing room. The bright, relentless stage lights had been replaced by the softer, more forgiving glow of the dressing room bulbs.

"Taylor, can you hear me?" a familiar voice asked gently.

She turned her head to see Travis, his face etched with concern. Travis had been by her side for months now, his steady presence a source of comfort and strength. He was supposed to be enjoying the show from the sidelines, but now he was here, his eyes searching hers for signs of distress.

"Travis?" she whispered, her throat dry and scratchy.

"Hey, you're awake," he said, relief flooding his features. "You scared us all out there. How are you feeling?"

Taylor tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her to lie back down. "I don't know," she admitted. "Everything feels... strange."

Travis nodded, his hand still gently resting on her forehead. "You fainted on stage. The medics think you might be dehydrated and exhausted. You've been pushing yourself too hard, Tay."

She closed her eyes, frustration bubbling up inside her. "I can't believe this happened. I've never fainted on stage before."

Travis squeezed her hand. "It's okay. Everyone understands. You're human, Taylor. You're allowed to have off days."