TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

Under Control - (Taylor's Version)

A/N Since I'm still waiting for Reputation Taylor's Version I thought I might as well post another chapter in Taylor's Version

Taylor's POV

I had just finished rehearsing one of the more intense routines on the tour stage, feeling every bead of sweat and every heartbeat like a thunderclap. I could sense something was off, but I chalked it up to the typical exhaustion that comes with pushing yourself night after night. But it was different—like I was underwater, the world starting to blur around the edges. I gripped the edge of a speaker, steadying myself as I took a few deep breaths, hoping the dizziness would pass.

"Alright, one more time from the top!" the choreographer called out, but my vision went blurry, my pulse pounding in my ears. I heard voices, but they were distant, muffled, like I was fading out of the moment. Then everything went dark.

Travis' POV

I'd been pacing backstage, still wearing my practice gear from today's workout with the team, my phone clutched in my hand. I couldn't wait to surprise her, to see her face light up when I showed up at rehearsal.

But when I got there, the scene wasn't at all what I expected. Instead of laughter and music, there was chaos—people calling for medics, Taylor's dancers huddled around someone lying on the ground. My heart sank.

That someone was Taylor.

I shoved my way forward, my mind racing. "Taylor? Taylor!" I dropped down beside her, reaching for her hand. She was unconscious, her face pale, her breathing shallow. The medics were already there, checking her pulse, someone asking questions, but I could barely process a word.

The medic looked up at me. "We're getting her to the hospital now. She needs immediate attention."

I didn't need to be told twice. I jumped into the ambulance with her, holding her hand the entire way, every bump in the road making my heart pound harder. I didn't let go, not once.

Taylor's POV

The first thing I felt when I came to was his hand around mine, warm and steady. My head was throbbing, and everything felt disorienting, like I'd been pulled out of a nightmare.

"Hey, Tay." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but there was something raw in it—fear, relief, maybe both.

I blinked, my vision slowly coming into focus, and there he was, his face hovering above mine, worry carved into every line of his expression.

"Trav..." I managed, my voice hoarse. "What happened?"

He gave me a faint smile, but I could see the strain in his eyes. "You passed out at rehearsal. Gave everyone a pretty good scare." His hand tightened around mine. "You scared me."

I let out a shaky breath, trying to piece together how I'd ended up here. "I... I thought it was just exhaustion. You know, the usual push-through-it kind of stuff."

The doctor stepped in just then, clipboard in hand, and after a few tests, they confirmed what I was dreading: I was diagnosed with epilepsy. The world tilted on its axis. This wasn't just exhaustion or dehydration; it was something I would have to live with.

Travis' POV

Epilepsy. I could see the shock on her face, the disbelief. My mind raced through all the possible ways this could affect her life, her career, everything she'd worked so hard for.

I swallowed hard, my hand still in hers. "Hey, look at me," I said, gently tilting her chin up. "This doesn't change anything. We're going to get through this together."

She looked at me, a mixture of fear and determination in her eyes. "But what if I... what if this changes everything? The shows, the touring... my life?"

I leaned closer, my voice steady. "Whatever it changes, we'll deal with it. One step at a time, okay? You've got me, and you've got a whole army of people who love you and will do anything to help you through this."

She nodded, but I could see the fear she was trying to hide. Taylor wasn't used to feeling helpless, to being anything but strong. But I wasn't about to let her face this alone.

Taylor's POV

Travis stayed by my side every step of the way. In the days after, I tried to wrap my head around what this meant—special routines, medications, adjustments to my lifestyle. And, of course, someone to drive me until I could manage my symptoms. That's where Travis came in, insisting he'd be the one to drive me everywhere, even if it meant temporarily putting his own commitments on hold.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I told him one day as he drove me to rehearsal.

He shot me a look. "Taylor, I want to do this. It's not a sacrifice for me; it's what I want."

"But I don't want you to miss out on your own life because of me."

He shook his head. "You're my life, Tay. And if this is what you need, then that's what I'm doing."

I was silent for a moment, his words echoing in my mind. I'd always been so focused on being strong and independent, but for once, it felt okay to lean on someone, to let him be my strength.

Travis' POV

Driving Taylor became part of my daily routine, and honestly, I didn't mind a bit. I used the time to make sure she was okay, to remind her that she didn't have to carry this alone.

One morning, I picked her up for rehearsal as usual, and she seemed quieter than usual. After a few minutes of silence, she looked over at me.

"Do you ever worry that... maybe this is too much?" she asked, her voice small.

I looked over, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Being with someone who has epilepsy," she said, staring down at her hands. "I never wanted to be the 'complicated' one."

I reached over, taking her hand. "Tay, this doesn't change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me love you even more because I see how strong you are, even when you don't feel like it."

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. "You really mean that?"

"Every word," I said, giving her hand a squeeze. "We're in this together, okay?"

Taylor's POV

Travis became my rock, helping me navigate through every doctor's appointment, every uncertain moment. The epilepsy was new territory, but having him beside me made it a little less scary.

One night after a particularly rough day, I was lying on the couch, exhausted, when he sat down beside me, handing me a cup of tea.

"So," he said, grinning, "what's the plan for when we can finally take that Taco Bell date without needing a driver?"

I laughed, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. "Oh, we're going all out. Ordering everything off the menu. And maybe even a ridiculous dessert to celebrate."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around me. "Deal. But until then, I'm your chauffeur, snack-run buddy, and professional cuddler, all rolled into one."

I leaned against him, feeling more grateful than ever. For someone who never slowed down, he'd stopped his whole world for me, and that meant more than words could ever say.