Nova [Tayvis Fanfiction]

THE BIG BANG

Taylor Swift's Point of View
The morning feels lazy, perfect, like a stretch of time that belongs to us alone. Sunlight spills through the half-open blinds, casting a soft glow across the room as I lie wrapped in the sheets, still warm from Travis's touch. It's our three-month anniversary—a small milestone, but one we're both excited to celebrate. He surprised me with breakfast in bed, and we lounged together, talking, laughing, wrapped up in each other and the quiet of the morning.

Now, he's getting dressed, slipping on his shirt slowly, like he doesn't really want to go. I watch him, memorizing the details—the way his hair is still a bit tousled from lying beside me, the way he absentmindedly scratches his chin as he looks for his shoes.

"Are you sure I have to get you coffee? It's such a long drive," he teases, raising an eyebrow. He knows how much I adore that caramel nonfat latte, but the drive to the nearest Starbucks is a bit of a trek. I can see a hint of reluctance in his smile, the way his eyes linger on me, and it makes me hesitate. Maybe I don't really need that coffee. Maybe I want him here, next to me, more.

But I push the thought aside, letting the sheets slip down to reveal my bare shoulders, catching his attention. "How about this," I offer, a sly smile playing at my lips. "If you bring back my latte, maybe there'll be something in it for you... round two, perhaps?"

He chuckles, shaking his head, but I can see the light in his eyes, the way his smile deepens. "Alright, alright—you've convinced me." He fumbles with his shoes, stumbling a little as he pulls them on, glancing back at me like he's already thinking about his return.

"I'll be back," he promises, a playful glint in his eyes as he grabs his keys.

And I watch him go, a strange twinge settling in my chest that I can't quite place. If only I knew this would be the last time I'd see him walk out that door.

Manhattan traffic—of course, it's the only reason Starbucks seems far. Otherwise, there's one practically on every corner. But when an hour passes, I start feeling a knot of worry tighten in my chest. He should've been back by now.

I pick up my phone and dial Travis's number, pressing it to my ear, waiting. It rings and rings before dropping to voicemail. I try to shake off the worry, telling myself he's just stuck in traffic or maybe waiting in a long line. But after a few more minutes, I call again. And then again. Seven times, until the words on the other end start to echo back at me, almost taunting.

"Hey, it's your guy Travis! Sorry I missed your call, but just leave a message and I'll get back to you. Unless you're the IRS."

The sound of his voice—bright and casual—only makes me feel worse.

I shrug, trying to brush off the nerves, and quickly throw on a lazy outfit, pulling my hair into a messy bun. Grabbing the car keys, I head out, following the familiar route to Starbucks. Maybe he just got held up, maybe he ran into some fans, chatting away. That would be just like him.

As I drive, though, the knot in my stomach twists tighter when I spot flashing lights up ahead. Traffic slows to a full stop, and I pull over, feeling my pulse quicken. Part of me wants to stay in the car, wait it out, but the worry is too strong. I can't sit here not knowing. I don't care if people recognize me; all I care about is finding him, making sure he's okay.

I get out, pushing through the unease and heading toward the lights, each step heavier with dread.

My steps quicken, my heart pounding harder with each stride. The fear gnaws at me, taking over. I have to know what's happening. My eyes dart around, and for a split second, I catch a glimpse of something familiar—something that makes my stomach drop. But I shove the thought away, refusing to accept it. I need to see for myself.