Tayvis One-Shots

songs in the dark

Taylor's POV

The bedside clock blinked 1:58am, but sleep wasn't happening. My body was exhausted from the tour, but my mind? Wide awake. It wasn't unusual, performing in front of thousands of screaming fans did that to a person. What was unusual, though, was the muffled noise coming from down the hall.

It wasn't loud, but it was enough to pique my curiosity. Travis had flown in yesterday to surprise me, and I assumed he was fast asleep. Apparently not.

Sliding out of bed, I grabbed the oversized hoodie he'd left on the chair and pulled it over my head before padding toward the sound. As I got closer, I could make out his voice, soft and low.

"Uh... something, something... her smile, uh, makes the... no, wait..."

I cracked the door open just a little and peeked in. There he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his phone propped up in front of him, recording himself. He wasn't playing a guitar or piano—thankfully, because Travis playing anything musical would be a disaster. Instead, he had a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, scribbling furiously before muttering a line or two.

"She walks in the room, and it's all bright... uh... brighter? Crap, that's not it," he mumbled.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He sounded terrible, but in the most endearing way. His deep voice wobbled, his words stumbled, and his "melody" was basically nonexistent. Still, I couldn't look away.

"Her laugh's like, uh... I don't know, sunshine? God, that's cheesy," he muttered, scribbling out whatever he'd just written.

I couldn't help it. A giggle slipped out.

His head whipped toward the door. "Tay?!"

I pushed it open wider, stepping into the room. "What exactly is going on here, Kelce? A midnight songwriting session?"

He looked like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. "Uh, no? Maybe? Okay, yeah."

I crossed my arms, trying to look stern but failing miserably. "And you weren't planning to tell me about this because...?"

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Because it's embarrassing, alright? I wanted to write you a song, but I suck at this."

I softened immediately, sitting down beside him. "You're writing me a song?"

"Well, trying to," he admitted, holding up the notebook. "But, uh, spoiler alert: I don't think Ed Sheeran's worried about me stealing his job."

I took the notebook from him, scanning the messy handwriting. The lines were rough, awkward, and sometimes didn't even make sense, but the heart behind them was impossible to miss.

"'Her smile makes the whole room light up, even when it's dark outside,'" I read aloud, a smile tugging at my lips. "That's sweet."

He groaned, snatching the notebook back. "It's corny."

"It's you," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. "And that makes it perfect."

He glanced down at me, his expression softening. "Yeah, well, don't get too excited. I'm about two lines away from rhyming 'Taylor' with 'sailor.'"

I laughed, reaching for his phone. "Let me hear what you've got so far."

"Oh, no way," he said, grabbing it before I could. "This is private. You're not ready for this level of... let's call it uniqueness."

"Come on," I teased, nudging him. "I won't judge. Promise."

He hesitated for a moment before letting out a dramatic sigh and handing over the phone. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."