Taylor Swift and Tree Paine Oneshots

Hospice

TW: sad, talk about death

PS: I don't know anything about medical things so feel free to correct me. Also, everything about this is fictional.

The house was unusually quiet when Tree Paine arrived, the usual buzz of activity replaced by a calm, almost eerie stillness. Taylor had asked her to come over to discuss a few things regarding upcoming plans, and while it wasn't unusual for Taylor to handle things from home, there was something off this time. As Tree stepped into the living room, she couldn't help but feel like something had shifted in a way she couldn't quite place.

Raven, Taylor's service dog, lay curled up beside the couch where Taylor was sitting, propped up by pillows. Tree noticed a woman in scrubs quietly packing away some medical equipment by the side table. The IV stand beside Taylor didn't go unnoticed, nor did the oxygen tubing attached to her nose. Tree's stomach tightened in worry, but she tried to keep her face neutral as she approached.

"Hey, Tree," Taylor greeted with a soft smile, her voice a little raspier than usual. Her eyes, though still as striking as ever, looked tired, as if they carried the weight of something much heavier than any tour schedule.

"Hey," Tree replied, forcing a smile as she sat down across from her. "What's all this?" She gestured vaguely toward the medical setup, her tone light but full of concern.

Taylor looked at the nurse, who nodded and quietly left the room, giving them privacy. Taylor's eyes followed the nurse for a moment before she turned back to Tree, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself for a conversation she'd been dreading.

Tree felt her heart race as the silence stretched. "Tay, talk to me. What's going on?"

Taylor's hand rested on the blanket over her lap, fidgeting slightly. "I've been wanting to tell you for a while now," she started slowly. "But I didn't know how. I didn't want to... worry you or anyone else."

Tree leaned forward, her worry deepening. "Taylor, you're scaring me. What is all this? Why do you have a nurse? Why do you need oxygen?"

Taylor closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering the strength to say what needed to be said. "I'm on hospice care now," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Tree froze, the words not registering immediately. "Hospice?" she echoed, confusion etched in her features. "Why—what are you talking about? Hospice is for..."

"People who are dying," Taylor finished quietly, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. "I know."

Tree's eyes filled with tears before she could stop them. "No, no, that can't be right," she said, shaking her head. "You're not—Taylor, you're too young, too strong for this. What's going on? What's wrong?"

Taylor's expression softened, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It's everything, Tree. The epilepsy, the gastroparesis, my asthma... it's all gotten so much worse. My body's just... it's giving up on me."

Tree couldn't breathe for a moment. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of it all. Taylor had always been a fighter, always managed to push through anything that came her way. "But there's got to be something we can do," she said, her voice trembling. "There are treatments, doctors, something..."

Taylor shook her head. "We've tried everything. The seizures are constant now, the gastroparesis makes it impossible to eat, and my lungs... they're not working the way they should anymore. The doctors said this is the best we can do. Keep me comfortable."

Tree was silent, her heart breaking as she took in the words. Taylor wasn't just sick—she was dying. The realization hit her like a freight train, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there, staring at her friend, trying to hold herself together.

"How long have you known?" Tree finally asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

Taylor swallowed hard, her eyes misty as she answered. "A few months. It started getting worse right after the last leg of the tour. I thought I could push through it, but..." She trailed off, glancing down at her hands. "I didn't want to tell anyone until I absolutely had to."

Tree's mind was reeling. "So... you've been dealing with all of this, and no one knew? Not even your family?"

"My parents know," Taylor admitted softly. "But I didn't want to worry anyone else. Especially not you. I knew you'd drop everything, and I didn't want that."

"Damn right, I would've dropped everything," Tree said, her voice rising with emotion. "You shouldn't be going through this alone, Tay."

The hospice nurse quietly re-entered the room, checking on the IV and handing Taylor a small nebulizer. Taylor accepted it without a word, placing the mask over her face as she began to inhale the medication to help her breathing. Tree watched, her chest tightening with the realization that Taylor had been silently suffering for so long.

As the nebulizer hummed quietly, Tree's mind raced. How had she missed this? How had Taylor managed to keep all of this from her? And most of all, how was she supposed to come to terms with the fact that one of the strongest people she knew was now on hospice care?

Once the nebulizer session ended, Taylor set it aside, her breathing a little easier, though still labored. She looked at Tree with those same tired eyes, the weight of her illness visible in every gesture.

"I didn't want to worry anyone," Taylor said, her voice small. "But I can't hide it anymore. Things are... they're not going to get better."

Tree leaned forward, placing a hand on Taylor's arm, her voice thick with tears. "You're not a burden, Taylor. You're my best friend. You're family. And I'm not going anywhere."

Taylor smiled weakly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Thank you."

As they sat there, the hospice nurse quietly went about her tasks in the background, checking Taylor's vitals and making sure everything was in order. The reality of the situation was sinking in deeper with every passing second—Taylor was dying, and there was nothing Tree could do to stop it.

But one thing was certain: she wouldn't let Taylor face it alone.

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