tayvis ~ invisible string

I'm fine but it wasn't true

TW, emetophobia

Taylor’s Pov

It started with a scratchy throat and a dull ache behind my eyes. At first, I brushed it off. Touring has its effects—late nights, constant travel, the adrenaline crash after a show—it’s all par for the course. But by mid-afternoon, the fatigue settled into my bones, and my head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton.

“I promise I’ll be fine, Trav,” I reassured him, though my voice was hoarse and my head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Travis frowned, towering over me as I sat curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies. He was already dressed in his Chiefs gear, ready to leave for his game.

“I don’t know, babe,” he said hesitantly, crouching in front of me. “You’re burning up. Maybe I should stay—”

“You can’t skip a game just because I have the flu,” I interrupted gently. “Donna raised a fighter, remember?”

He huffed out a laugh despite himself. “You’re impossible.”

“Tell you what,” I continued, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call someone to keep me company.”

He didn’t look convinced, but after a few more minutes of back-and-forth, he reluctantly agreed. I promised to text him if anything changed

As soon as he left, I called Kylie.

“Hey, Tay!” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hey,” I croaked. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch the game? I could use the company.”

Kylie immediately picked up on the exhaustion in my voice. “Of course! I’ll be there in twenty.”

By the time Kylie arrived, I had barely managed to move from the couch. She walked in carrying snacks and a blanket, her usual game-day essentials, but stopped in her tracks when she saw me.

“Taylor, you look awful,” she said bluntly, dropping her bag and rushing over.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, managing a weak smile.

She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead, her brow furrowing. “You’re burning up. Where’s the thermometer?”

I gestured vaguely toward the kitchen, too tired to speak. A few moments later, she returned and took my temperature.

“Taylor!” she exclaimed when the thermometer beeped. “103.4? You should be in bed, not watching football!”

“I promised Travis I’d call someone,” I murmured.

“Well, good thing I’m here. You’re on strict rest, understood?”

Travis’s Pov

The game was about to start, but my mind was back at home with Taylor. I couldn’t shake the image of her pale face and glassy eyes. She had tried to act tough, but I knew she wasn’t feeling well.

“She’ll be fine,” Jason said, clapping me on the shoulder as we headed out of the locker room. “Kylie’s with her.”

“I know,” I muttered, but it didn’t ease my worry.

As the first quarter began, the commentators discussed everything from the team’s lineup to the crowd. Eventually, the camera panned to my box.

“Interesting,” the first reporter commented. “Taylor Swift isn’t in attendance today.”

I tensed, my eyes flicking toward the screen.

“Well, she did just wrap up a massive European tour,” the second reporter added. “Eight sold-out shows at Wembley Stadium. If I were her, I wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed today.”