tayvis ~ invisible string

holding onto nothing

Taylor

Some mornings, I wake up feeling like a regular human. Other mornings, I wake up feeling like I’m a human-shaped barnacle who needs to be permanently attached to Travis Kelce.

Today was one of those mornings.

I stretched, rolled over, and there he was—all 6’5” of him, sprawled out with his arm thrown over his head, mouth slightly open, face relaxed in the most heartbreakingly adorable way. My heart melted instantly.

I scooted closer, wrapping my arm around his torso like an oversized koala. My face nuzzled into his warm back, inhaling that familiar, cozy scent—his cologne mixed with fresh laundry and a hint of last night’s deodorant.

This. I need this. All day.

But Travis? The man didn’t even stir.

I tried again, pressing a soft kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades. Nothing. No reaction. He just kept breathing evenly, dreaming his little football dreams.

Okay. Fine. I’d wait.

Eventually, he woke up, blinking sleepily, stretching like an actual grizzly bear before mumbling a quick, "Morning, babe," and planting a forehead kiss on me. Then—betrayal of betrayals—he got up.

I trailed after him like a lost puppy.

When he made coffee, I leaned against his back, resting my chin between his shoulder blades. No response.
When he sat on the couch scrolling through his phone, I flopped dramatically across his lap like a human blanket. He just patted my hip absentmindedly.
When he stood up to grab something from the kitchen, I clung to his arm, hoping he’d get the hint.

Nothing.

HELLO, SIR. I’M RIGHT HERE.

I huffed dramatically, flopping onto the couch like I was in a Victorian-era novel, waiting for death to claim me.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing up briefly.

"Peachy," I replied with the flattest voice known to mankind.

Travis shrugged, unfazed, and went back to whatever he was doing—probably watching football highlights or planning world domination, who knows.

I gave up. My heart felt heavy and weird, like I’d been holding in a sneeze all morning. I grabbed my bag.

"Where are you going?" he asked, finally looking up.

"The studio," I muttered, not even looking back as I left.

---

Travis

I didn’t think much of it at first. Taylor’s always bouncing to the studio. But as the door clicked shut behind her, the apartment felt… empty. Too quiet.

I sat there, staring at my phone, and something nagged at me.

Wait a minute.

I replayed the morning in my head like game tape. Taylor had been everywhere—clinging to me, nuzzling, practically radiating "please-hug-me" energy. And what did I do? I treated her like a decorative throw pillow.

Oh, shit.

I’d messed up.

Big time.

Cue Operation: Fix It.

Step 1: Flowers. Not just any flowers—ridiculous, over-the-top, rom-com-montage-level flowers.

Step 2: Her favorite snacks. The fancy chocolate she pretends she doesn’t love, the specific brand of kettle chips, and yes, even the overpriced lavender candle that “smells like serenity.”