tayvis ~ invisible string

migraines

TW mentions of throwing up / being sick

Taylor’s Perspective

Well, shit.

The first thing I registered was the heat. It wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket, making every inch of my body ache. My head felt like it was being crushed under a weight I couldn’t escape from, and the dull throb pulsed in sync with my heartbeat.

I tried to open my eyes, but the mere thought of it sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my skull. Nope. Not happening.

I swallowed thickly, my throat burning, and a nauseating wave rolled through me, forcing me to curl deeper into myself. My stomach churned violently, and I just knew—knew—that if I moved, I was going to be sick. Again.

I barely heard the sound of footsteps before a soft voice filled the space beside me.

“Babe?”

Travis.

I wanted to answer him, to let him know I was awake, but even breathing too hard felt like it might push me over the edge.

His hand brushed lightly against my arm, and I whimpered, flinching away from the contact.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, his voice soft but laced with worry. “Too much?”

I swallowed again, the lump in my throat growing. “Mm-hmm.”

There was a pause, and then I felt the bed dip slightly as he sat beside me. “I think you’ve got a fever,” he murmured. “You’re burning up, T.”

Tell me something I don’t know, I wanted to say, but my body was too exhausted to manage sarcasm. Instead, I just curled tighter into myself, hoping that if I stayed small enough, the pain would just… go away.

It didn’t.

“I feel like I’m dying,” I finally croaked out, barely above a whisper.

Travis chuckled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “You’re not dying, babe.”

I groaned. “Feels like it.”

“I know.” His voice was gentle, soothing. “I’m here, okay?”

I wanted to tell him to leave, to get as far away from me as possible before I inevitably embarrassed myself, but before I could say anything, my stomach twisted painfully, and I lurched forward, barely making it over the side of the bed before I was heaving violently.

---

Travis’s Perspective

The sound of Taylor throwing up made my heart drop.

I moved quickly, grabbing the trash can and holding it steady for her as she gagged and coughed, her whole body trembling from the effort.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmured, rubbing slow circles on her back, careful not to apply too much pressure. “I got you, babe.”

She flinched at the touch, and I immediately pulled my hand away, kicking myself. Her migraines were bad—really bad—but it was the combination of the fever and the pain that had her completely wiped out.

Once she finally stopped, she sagged back onto the bed with a shaky breath, eyes still squeezed shut.

“‘M gross,” she mumbled weakly.

My chest tightened. “You’re not gross, Taylor.”

She let out a pitiful whimper. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”