Tayvis One-Shots

until the last breath - outtake

2 years after Travis's death

Taylor's POV

Two years. It's hard to believe it's been that long. Sometimes, it feels like yesterday, like I can still hear his voice, feel his hand in mine. Other times, it feels like a lifetime ago, like he's just a dream I can't quite remember.

I walk through the cemetery, the weight of the flowers in my hands grounding me in reality. It's a quiet place, but there's a peace here. I've always come back, every week, without fail. Sometimes, I tell him about my life, what I'm doing, what I miss about him. Other times, I sit in silence, letting the memories wash over me.

As I approach his grave, I feel that familiar ache in my chest, a mix of love and loss that I've never really learned to live with. I kneel down, placing the wildflowers carefully by the stone. Travis would've loved these. He always liked the simple things, the things that felt real.

"Hey, Trav," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. I've said those words so many times, but they never lose their sting. "I'm here again. I know I come too much, but... I can't help it. I miss you so much."

I trace the letters of his name, the cold stone a stark reminder of everything I lost. I wonder if he can hear me, if he knows how hard it is to keep going without him. I've tried, really tried, to find my way. To move forward. But there's always this part of me that's stuck. Stuck in that hospital room, stuck in those moments when I thought we'd have more time.

"Guess I'm doing okay," I say, the words feeling hollow. "I'm 18 now. Feels weird. Feels like I should have it all figured out. But I don't. I think I always thought I would by now."

I pause, my fingers brushing the ground, as if I could somehow feel him again through the cold earth. I can't, but I don't stop trying.

"I know I have to keep living. I know you wouldn't want me to just stop because you're gone. But, Trav... it's hard. Really hard."

I sit back on my heels, pulling my knees up to my chest. The wind picks up, rustling the trees around me. It feels like he's here in the way the air moves, like he's just a whisper away.

"I'll keep coming back, okay? I don't know if I'll ever stop. I don't know if I'm ready to let go. I don't know if I ever will be."

I sit there for a while longer, the silence between us speaking louder than anything else. And even though he's not here, I feel like he is. In the quiet, in the breeze, in the way my heart still beats for him.

I stand up slowly, taking one last look at the grave before I turn to leave. The air feels lighter now, like something inside me has loosened, just for a moment. I'm not sure if it's the peace I've found here or just the need to move on, but it's enough for today.

The drive home is quiet. The radio plays softly in the background, but my mind is elsewhere—on him, on the last words we shared, on everything we had. It's like a song that never stops playing, one I can't get out of my head, no matter how many times I try to change the station.

When I pull into the driveway, I see my mom's car parked out front. The house looks the same, but it feels different, quieter somehow. I open the door and step inside, setting my things down by the entryway.

"Taylor?" My mom's voice calls from the living room, sharp and detached.

I don't respond right away. I know what's coming. Her voice, the way she still tries to act like everything's fine when it never has been.

"Did you go to the cemetery again?" she asks, her tone a little too pointed.

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Yeah."