Requested by: @swiftxkelce
Travis had always been in control—on the field, off the field, in his personal life. Confidence was part of his identity, part of what made him such a force. But tonight was different.
It was late. Taylor was sitting in the living room, a book in her lap and a blanket draped over her legs, the house quiet with the triplets finally down for the night. Ophelia had retreated to her room, music faintly playing from her closed door upstairs. She was tired but content, letting herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever.
Travis had been fine earlier, laughing about something on his phone while sitting next to her on the couch. He had gone into the kitchen to grab a drink, and she hadn't thought anything of it. But when he didn't come back, something inside her nagged.
She stood up, stretching before padding into the kitchen. "Trav?" she called softly. No response. She frowned, wondering if he'd gone upstairs without saying anything.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she stopped short. Travis was standing by the counter, his back turned to her. At first, she thought he was simply staring at something, but as she stepped closer, she noticed his shoulders heaving—too rapidly.
"Travis?" Her voice was softer now, filled with concern. She came around him and saw it all at once—the way his hands gripped the counter's edge so tightly his knuckles were white, the tremor in his arms, the way his breath came out in uneven gasps, almost as if he couldn't get enough air.
He didn't look at her; his eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he were trying to fight something that wasn't there. His chest rose and fell far too quickly, and the sound of his ragged breathing filled the room.
"Trav—baby, hey," she said, stepping in front of him, her voice gentle but urgent. "What's going on? Talk to me."
"I—I don't—" His voice was strained, shaky. "I—can't breathe."
Her heart dropped. He was panicking, and hard. She had seen this before—many times, in fact. But Travis, he had never had a panic attack, not in all the time she'd known him. He was always the strong one, the composed one. Seeing him like this was jarring.
Her instincts kicked in, though. She reached out, her hand finding his forearm, but he jerked away reflexively, his eyes squeezing shut.
"I don't know what's happening, Tay," he gasped, his words barely coherent between the rapid breaths. "I can't—I can't stop."
"You're okay, you're okay," she said quickly, keeping her voice low, trying to remain calm even though seeing him like this was terrifying. She'd been in his shoes before. Panic attacks were a beast, and they didn't care how big or tough you were.
"Look at me," she urged, moving closer despite his shaky retreat. "Travis, look at me."
He shook his head violently, stumbling back against the counter, his breath hitching even more, now on the verge of hyperventilating.
"It's not real," he muttered, his chest convulsing with dry heaves as he tried to swallow the rising nausea. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Taylor's heart clenched. "You're having a panic attack," she said softly, her hand reaching up to cup his face. "That's what this is."
"No, no—" His voice broke. "I've never— I don't get these."
"It's okay," she whispered, trying to get him to focus on her. "I know it's scary, but I'm right here. You're safe. You're not in any danger, Trav."
But he wasn't hearing her. His entire body was shaking now, his breath coming in shallow bursts, eyes darting around the room like he was trying to make sense of it all. He stumbled sideways, his knees buckling slightly.
Taylor caught him before he collapsed. She held onto him, her arms around his waist, grounding him. "Shhh, just breathe with me," she whispered into his chest, her cheek pressed against him. "Match my breaths. In... and out."
But it wasn't working. His breath remained erratic, his chest heaving in tight, suffocating bursts. He pushed away from her slightly, his face pale, drenched in sweat.
"Tay, I can't—" His voice cracked again, and he was dry heaving once more, his body bent over as if trying to expel something that wasn't there.
"Okay," Taylor whispered to herself, knowing she needed to try something else. She reached up and gently touched his face, forcing him to look at her. "Travis, you need to trust me right now, okay?"
His wild eyes found hers, barely holding onto her voice.
"I want you to breathe with me," she said firmly but softly, holding his gaze. "Just focus on me, okay? We'll do this together."
He stared at her, still shaking uncontrollably, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Okay, let's go. In for four." She took a slow, deep breath, counting out loud. "One... two... three... four."
His breath was shallow, but he tried to follow. She could see the strain in his face, but he was listening.
"Good. Now out for four." She exhaled slowly, her hand still on his cheek. "One... two... three... four."
He exhaled, though it was shaky and uneven. His chest was still tight, but the wild gasps had slowed slightly.
"That's it. One more time," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "In for four. One... two... three... four."
His breath hitched, but he followed, his breathing a little deeper now.
"Out for four. One... two... three... four."
It took a few more rounds, but slowly, so slowly, his breaths started to regulate. The shaking in his hands lessened, though his body was still trembling with the aftershocks of the panic attack. He wasn't hyperventilating anymore, but the exhaustion and confusion were written all over his face.
Taylor gently lowered him onto the kitchen floor, sitting down beside him. His back rested against the cabinets, and she sat next to him, still holding his hand tightly in hers.
For a while, they didn't speak. He just sat there, chest rising and falling at a more normal rhythm now, his eyes still wide with the remnants of fear.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Travis spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "What... what was that?"
She squeezed his hand. "You had a panic attack, Trav."
His brow furrowed, still trying to process. "But I've never had one before..."
"I know." She reached up to brush the hair from his damp forehead. "It can happen to anyone, even if you've never had one before."
He stared down at the floor, still clearly shaken. "I thought... I thought I was dying or something. I couldn't breathe."
"I know. I've been there." She scooted closer, her leg pressing against his. "But it's over now. You're okay."
He nodded weakly, still not fully trusting the calm that was settling in. "I don't know why it happened."
Taylor leaned her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand again. "Panic attacks don't always need a reason. Sometimes they just happen. But we'll figure it out."
He nodded again, his breath steadying completely now. After a long moment, he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes still haunted but filled with gratitude. "Thank you."
She smiled softly, lifting his hand to her lips and kissing his knuckles. "Always. I've got you."
And for once, Travis let himself be the one to lean on her, his guard down as he wrapped his arm around her, the warmth of her presence pulling him out of the remnants of the storm.
Requests ~~~~~>
