tayvis oneshots ★

bit my nails down to the quick

um so I can't write a story without having them crying. my bad guys. enjoy...

-

Taylor's fingers traced small swirls along a page of the book she was reading, or rather, pretending to read. Travis had been watching, and not a single page had been turned since she sat down and opened the book. Travis shook his head and pushed the espresso machine back to its home on the bench, which he had resigned himself to cleaning once he realised he needed to give himself something to do.

When Taylor had landed in Kansas City that afternoon, she only stopped in the entryway for a brief hug and a kiss before going straight to the shower. "Sorry, I feel gross from the flight," she'd said with a smile, taking off her coat. Travis had assumed they'd get to chatting after her shower, so he was surprised when she came downstairs with a book in hand and went to the couch in the living room.

Travis rinsed the cloth he'd used and placed it down, looking up at Taylor. Her fingers were now tapping the page lightly, and she was biting her lip with her eyebrows pinched together.

"Taylor?" he asked, walking towards her.

"Yeah?" she replied, and there was a slight delay before she looked at him.

Travis locked eyes with her. The break in between shows when Taylor was able to return for a few days usually brought him relief. It brought him a sense of calm, his home only felt like home when she was there, that sort of thing. But this time, the air between them felt uneasy. And he didn't know why.

"We've got a free day tomorrow after I record New Heights, did you want to do something? Or we could just lounge around..." he finished suggestively.

Taylor smiled half-heartedly and returned her eyes down to the book in her hand. "I don't really mind, whatever you want."

Travis frowned, but before he could reply, she spoke again. "I'm actually just..." she placed her bookmark in the book. "I'm going to get some... air," she said, unable to look at him. She got up from the couch and he watched her slip out the back door, her damp curls swaying in the breeze. He stood still for a moment, confused and conflicted between following her and leaving her alone. Eventually, he realised she deserved privacy, so after a moment of looking around the house, he landed his eyes on the dishwasher.

Placing the cutlery basket on the bench, he thought back on the previous few days. They hadn't been talking as much, but he hadn't given it any thought deeper than just noticing it. It was to be expected with their busy schedules. He took the spoons out of the basket, and opened the cutlery drawer. She was more withdrawn when they called, her texts were shorter, but he had put it down to concert lethargy. Now, he was worried. He picked up the forks. She had never been so reserved without clueing Travis in as to why. She didn't seem upset, nor overly tired, just distant. Travis picked up a knife, and actually looked at it. It was dirty. He looked into the dishwasher, and sighed. It was all dirty. He was emptying a dishwasher that hadn't been turned on.

He began returning the dirty cutlery when he heard the back door slide open and close, and soft footsteps. He jogged to catch her before she could escape upstairs. "Tay, hey," he slid to a stop and placed a hand on Taylor's arm. She gave him a strained smile, apprehensive for his next words. "Come on," he spoke softly, guiding her to the couch.

He moved her book to make room for the two of them, and he sat down facing her. "Has something happened...?"

"Um," Taylor nervously started pushing back the cuticles on her fingers. "What?"

"What's going on? With you, I mean. I thought we'd get to relax together for these few days, but you're kinda... something's wrong."

Taylor swallowed, and Travis thought he could almost see her thoughts racing. She looked down at her fidgeting hands, and sucked in a breath. "I just... I don't know anymore, Travis," her voice barely above a whisper, filled with emotion.