TERMS AND CONDITIONS---TAYLOR FANFICTION

7. SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

[ TRISTAN CARTER]

"Anything suspicious happened?" I ask Taylor when I enter the house after buying some groceries and fairylights for her since her shitty excuse of a boyfriend doesn't like when she exits her house when he is away.

Taylor's voice drifts from the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables filling the air. "No, everything's been quiet here. Just trying to keep busy," she responds, her tone a mix of determination and distraction. I can feel the weight in her voice, a subtle indication of the burdens she's shouldering recently.

She blames herself for Joe The Fucker's anger at the Gala, convinced it's the reason he hasn't returned home for a week. So as a not needed apology, she is preparing a dinner date for her at the house , hoping to make things right. I can see the determination in her eyes as she works diligently in the kitchen, determined to show Joe that she cares.

"May I ask why you kept the door unlocked?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at her as the blonde focuses on her cooking.

She looks up, her brows knitting together in a furrow of concentration, before admitting softly, "I forgot."

"Yeah. One day someone will come from that door and chop you into a thousand pieces. Then you will be very sorry for forgetting to lock it," I grumble, a mix of annoyance and reluctant understanding creeping in, unlike the usual anger I harbor towards my clients. I know she means well, but her absentmindedness can be frustrating at times. Despite my annoyance, I can't help but acknowledge the relentless effort she puts in for a man who clearly doesn't appreciate her.

I had hoped my questions from last night would guide her towards clarity, but instead, they seemed to push her further into confusion. She is being just like my mother, and I am afraid she will end up hurt in the end.

But it isn't my job to control her actions or decisions. My job is to keep her safe from any physical harm and offer support when needed.

"Did you just joke?" Taylor's knife slips from her fingers, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine in a mix of shock and disbelief as she shakes her head in utter disbelief. "I can't believe you just said that," she exclaims, clearly caught off guard by my unexpected comment.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" I ask because I haven't joked in a long time, and I'm not sure if my sense of humor is still intact.

Taylor burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling, and the sight is just... Magnificent.

" You should do that more often," she says between giggles, clearly appreciating the unexpected humor.

"I was dead serious." I groan internally, realizing that my attempt at humor was so odd.

"You should try smiling. It won't kill you to that." Taylor says, checking on her phone for notifications.

"Why do you have to smile to be considered a human?" I ask, looking at her. Her hair was braided into two long plaits, and her camisole top made her look effortlessly beautiful.

"Because smiling means you are alive," Taylor responds with a smile.

"Look at me; I don't smile often, and I'm clearly not dead." I counter, placing her groceries where they should be.

Taylor looks up from her phone. " But you're not really living either if you don't find reasons to smile."

"I suppose living things eat, shit, move, breathe, and grow. And as far as I know, I am doing all of those."

Taylor chuckles, "Look at me; I smile every time, and that's what makes me an amiable person to others."

"Keep your smiles rare, and they will be cherished even more," I reply.