Taylor Swift and Tree Paine Oneshots

Breaking point

Taylor Swift had always been the epitome of strength, resilience, and grace under pressure. For years, her public persona radiated confidence, always ready for the stage, the camera, and the endless waves of fans. But beneath that shining exterior, a different story had been unfolding—one that only a few people close to her knew about.

It had been weeks since Taylor suddenly paused her tour in the middle of what was supposed to be one of the most significant eras of her career. Fans were shocked. Social media exploded with concern, theories swirling about what could have possibly caused the abrupt decision. Even Tree Paine, Taylor's ever-loyal publicist and friend, was left in the dark.

Now, Tree stood in front of the grand mansion Taylor and Travis called home in Kansas City, still trying to piece together the mystery. She had been fielding press inquiries and managing Taylor's public image, but she had no real answers. Taylor wasn't responding to calls or texts, and no official statement had been made. Tree wasn't just her publicist—she was her friend. And the silence worried her more than she let on.

As she approached the front door, Raven, Taylor's service dog, greeted her with a wag of his tail. The intelligent black Labrador had been trained to help Taylor manage her severe epilepsy, and Tree had always marveled at his calm, composed demeanor. But now, even Raven seemed tense, as if he could sense something wasn't right.

Raven pressed his nose to the door handle, opening it with ease, and led Tree inside. The house was eerily quiet, except for the soft hum of machines and the occasional beep from monitors. Tree felt a chill run down her spine as she entered the living room.

There, on the couch, was Taylor—fragile, pale, and hooked up to multiple IV bags that hung from a portable pole attached to her wheelchair. Her nebulizer mask covered most of her face, and she appeared to be resting, the rise and fall of her chest shallow but steady. Raven padded over to Taylor's side, his presence protective and vigilant, as if he were always on duty.

Tree's heart sank at the sight. This wasn't the vibrant, unstoppable woman she knew. Taylor looked so small, so vulnerable. The array of medical equipment surrounding her, the bags of fluids, the medications, the TPN providing nutrition directly into her bloodstream—it was overwhelming.

Tree approached cautiously, her voice soft, "Taylor?"

No response. Taylor was deeply asleep, her body curled up on the couch as if even holding herself up was too much. Raven lifted his head, watching Tree carefully, but made no move to wake his owner.

Tree hesitated, not wanting to disturb Taylor, but also desperate for answers. She sat down gently in a nearby chair, trying to process what she was seeing. This was not the first time she had seen Taylor tired or stressed, but this was different—this was a full collapse.

The quiet moments stretched on until Taylor shifted slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, disoriented, and then reached to remove her nebulizer mask for just a moment, her breathing labored.

Tree leaned forward, her concern spilling out. "Taylor, what's going on? You just disappeared, and I didn't know what to tell anyone. Why didn't you tell me?"

Taylor's eyes met hers, filled with exhaustion and something deeper—hesitation. She was silent for a moment, her lips parting as if to speak, but then she slumped back, clearly struggling to summon the energy to respond. Her hand trembled as she reached for the mask again, pulling it back over her face, her breathing still uneven.

Raven shifted beside her, placing his paw on her leg, sensing her unease. Tree sighed, unsure of what to say.

"Taylor, I don't care about the PR side of things right now. I'm worried about you. Please talk to me," Tree pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.

Taylor inhaled through the nebulizer, the medicine working to open her airways as she gestured weakly to the IV pole next to her. After a moment, she pulled the mask down again, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I have epilepsy," she finally admitted, her words slow and strained. "And gastroparesis. It's... gotten worse. I couldn't keep performing like this."

Tree's face twisted in confusion, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. "Epilepsy? Gastroparesis? Taylor... why didn't you tell me?"

Taylor's eyes filled with tears, the effort to talk clearly weighing on her. "I didn't want... anyone to know. It's bad enough with the media watching my every move. I didn't want to seem weak."

"You're not weak," Tree said, her voice firm yet gentle. "You've been dealing with all this on your own, haven't you?"

Taylor nodded slightly, her head leaning back against the couch. "Raven's been helping. Travis too. But it's... hard. It's gotten too hard."

Tree's heart ached for her. She had no idea Taylor had been battling such serious health issues. "What else, Taylor? Please... tell me everything."

Taylor's eyes drifted toward the IV bags and the tubes feeding into her arm. "I have a G-tube now," she said quietly, her voice barely audible. "I couldn't keep food down. And the seizures... they've gotten worse. I'm unconscious after them now. It's the only way my body can recover."

Tree felt a lump in her throat. "And the asthma?" she asked softly, looking at the nebulizer. "You've had it for a while, but... it's worse now, isn't it?"

Taylor nodded again, her face betraying just how tired she was. "I can barely breathe without this," she said, gesturing to the mask. "I'm on it for hours... sometimes I can't take it off at all."

Tree reached out, gently squeezing Taylor's hand, the weight of it all settling in. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have helped."

Taylor's eyes glistened with tears again. "I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want anyone to know how bad it's gotten. I'm supposed to be this... untouchable person, right? Everyone expects me to be perfect."

"You don't have to be perfect, Taylor," Tree said softly. "You just need to be okay. And right now, you're not."

Taylor's lip trembled as she tried to hold back her emotions. "I know," she whispered. "I had to cancel because I couldn't keep going. But I didn't know how to tell anyone. How do you tell the world you're falling apart?"

Tree leaned in, her voice warm but determined. "You don't have to tell the world anything. Let me handle that. Right now, you just need to focus on getting better."

Taylor nodded, her exhaustion taking over again. "I don't even know if I'll get better," she admitted quietly. "This is my life now. The medications, the seizures, the G-tube... I don't know how to be 'Taylor Swift' like this."

Tree felt her chest tighten. "You don't have to be 'Taylor Swift' right now. You just need to be Taylor. And if that means taking a break, then that's what you'll do. I'll deal with the press, with the fans. You focus on healing."

Taylor closed her eyes, her body sinking into the couch, as if a weight had been lifted from her. The hum of the nebulizer filled the silence, and for a moment, the room was still.

As Taylor drifted back into sleep, Tree sat beside her, watching her breathe, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. Taylor had been carrying this burden for so long, hiding it from the world—and from her.

The front door opened quietly, and Travis walked in, his face immediately softening when he saw Taylor resting. He glanced at Tree, his expression grim yet relieved. "She told you, didn't she?"

Tree nodded, wiping away a stray tear. "Yeah, she did."

Travis walked over to the couch, sitting beside Taylor, gently stroking her hair. "She's been so strong, but it's been hard. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Tree whispered, her voice filled with resolve. "We'll get her through this, together."

And as the three of them sat in that quiet room, with Raven lying protectively at Taylor's feet, it was clear—Taylor wasn't alone anymore. She had her people, her team, and they were going to help her fight every step of the way.

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