Taylor Swift and Tree Paine Oneshots

Why do you care so much

The late afternoon sun streamed through the bedroom windows, casting a warm glow across the room. Taylor stood in front of the mirror, halfway through her routine. The shirt she had just pulled on hung open, revealing the long, jagged scars that ran diagonally across her back—from her left shoulder down to her right hip. The makeup she usually applied to her face, the kind that concealed the three harsh lines crossing from the top left of her forehead down to the bottom right of her jaw, sat untouched on the vanity.

She had planned on covering them up, as always. Her routine was second nature by now, something she did without thinking. But today, she hadn't quite gotten to it yet. Her mind had been elsewhere, clouded by a familiar heaviness that followed her on the worst days. Days where the past felt like it was just beneath the surface, too close for comfort.

The door creaked open.

"Hey, Tay, have you seen—" Travis's voice trailed off abruptly. She didn't turn around, but she could feel the shift in the air, the weight of his gaze on her exposed back. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Travis..." she started, but her voice faltered.

He stepped further into the room, confusion and concern etched across his face. "Taylor, what...?"

She spun around quickly, her hand flying up to her face, trying to cover the scars she hadn't had time to conceal yet. Her heart raced, panic bubbling up from deep inside her chest.

"It's nothing," she said, her voice sharp, defensive. "Just... scars. They're old. It's no big deal." She tried to sound casual, like it didn't matter, like her heart wasn't hammering against her ribs. Like he hadn't just seen parts of her she had spent years hiding.

But Travis wasn't buying it. He stepped closer, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "Taylor, that doesn't look like nothing."

"It is nothing," she repeated, more forcefully this time. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, like that could somehow protect her from the way he was looking at her—like she was fragile, breakable. "I've had them for years. I'm fine. I deal with it."

Travis's eyes softened as he looked at her, but his confusion remained. He didn't understand why she was trying so hard to brush it off, to act like he hadn't just walked in on something so personal, so vulnerable.

"Where did they come from?" His voice was quiet, gentle, but it pierced through the walls she'd built up around herself.

She turned away, her throat tightening. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "It's just something that happened. A long time ago."

Travis was quiet for a moment, then he reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, steady, but she flinched involuntarily. He pulled back immediately, a flicker of hurt crossing his face, but he didn't press her. Not yet.

Taylor turned around slowly, her arms still crossed protectively in front of her. Her face felt exposed, raw, the scars still visible without the layers of makeup she relied on. Travis's eyes drifted from her back to her face, his confusion deepening as he took in the full picture.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Taylor... what happened?"

Her stomach twisted. She hadn't planned on ever talking about it. Not with him, not with anyone. The past was something she kept buried, a painful chapter of her life that she didn't let anyone see.

But now it was out there. There was no taking it back.

"There was an... attack," she said, her voice barely audible. "Years ago. Someone tried to hurt me. They did hurt me." Her fingers brushed the scar on her cheek, feeling the rough, uneven skin. "These are just... reminders."

Travis's face tightened, a wave of anger flashing in his eyes before it softened into something else—something she hadn't expected. Care. Concern. He took a step closer, and she saw him glance down, noticing how tense her body was, how her fists were clenched.

"I'm so sorry, Tay," he whispered, his hand hovering near her arm again, waiting for permission this time. "I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know," she admitted. "It's... It's not something I like to talk about."

"I get that," Travis said, his eyes filled with understanding. "But you don't have to deal with it alone."

Taylor shook her head, still not meeting his gaze. "I'm fine, Travis. I've been fine. I just... I cover them up, and I move on. It's what I do."

"Is that really all you're doing? Moving on?" Travis's question was soft but pointed. He wasn't trying to push her, but he wasn't backing down either.

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten. She didn't know how to answer that. She had spent so long pretending she was okay, that the scars didn't matter, that the nightmares and the flashbacks were just another part of her life she had to deal with. But the truth was, they mattered more than she wanted to admit.

"I have to," she finally said, her voice shaky. "It's just... what I've always done."

Travis's expression softened even more, and he took another step closer, closing the gap between them. "You don't have to do that anymore, Tay. You don't have to hide from me."

Taylor's eyes darted up to meet his, confusion flickering in them. She had never been in a relationship like this before. She had never had someone look at her scars and still care. She had never had someone want to be there, even after seeing the parts of her that were broken.

"I don't understand why you care so much," she admitted, her voice quiet and vulnerable. "No one's ever..." She trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. "I'm used to dealing with this on my own."

Travis frowned, clearly taken aback by her words. "Why wouldn't I care?"

"Because..." Taylor hesitated, struggling to put the feelings into words. "Because I've never had anyone who did."

His frown deepened, confusion and sadness flashing across his face. "Taylor, you've been through so much. Of course I care. You think you should have to deal with this by yourself? That's not how it works when you love someone."

The word "love" hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected. Taylor's heart skipped a beat, and she stared at him, unsure of what to say. She had never thought of it that way. She had never thought someone could love her like this—scars and all.

Travis's hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her unmarred skin. "I love all of you, Tay. Not just the parts you show the world. The parts you hide too. You don't have to do this alone anymore."

Taylor felt tears well up in her eyes, a flood of emotions she hadn't been ready for. She had never let anyone see her this way. Never let anyone in like this. But here he was, standing in front of her, telling her that he cared, that he saw her—all of her—and it didn't change a thing.

For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone.