Tayvis One-Shots

night gone wrong

Taylor's POV

I can hear Travis's voice in the distance, but I don't bother looking up. My eyes are glued to the swirling lights and the noise around me. The club is alive, and I'm so not.

Travis, though? He's here. Standing just a few feet away from me, talking to someone, laughing. His presence should feel comforting, but tonight, it's suffocating. The usual warmth I feel when he's around just isn't there, and it's not his fault. It's mine.

I take a sip from my drink, staring blankly at the flashing lights, the music thumping in my chest, drowning out every thought except for the one that's been there all night: I'm fucking done.

Done with the weight of it all. The pressure. The expectations. The things left unsaid between us. I can't keep pretending I'm okay when all I feel is tired.

Travis notices me, of course. He always does. His eyes land on me, his expression softening the second he sees how distant I am. He makes his way over to where I'm standing, cutting through the crowd with that calm confidence of his.

I don't look at him. Not yet.

When he reaches me, he places a hand on my shoulder, his voice low. "You okay, Tay?"

I don't answer right away. I take another long drink, letting the alcohol burn through my throat, chasing away the gnawing feeling in my chest, if only for a second. When I finally glance up, I give him a smile that feels more like a mask than anything real.

"Yeah," I lie, voice too flat to be convincing. "Just tired."

He doesn't buy it, but he nods anyway, rubbing my shoulder lightly, like he's trying to ground me, pull me back to him. But I'm not having it tonight. Not when everything feels wrong.

"I can see that." He leans in a little closer, his brow furrowing. "Talk to me, Tay. What's going on?"

I look away again, biting the inside of my cheek, my heart not in it anymore. His words feel distant, like they're echoing from somewhere far away. Somewhere I can't reach.

"I don't know," I mutter, my voice quieter. "Just... stuff."

He looks like he wants to say more, but before he can, the noise around us pulls my attention. I catch sight of a guy across the room—tall, dark hair, dressed sharp, with eyes that seem to be sizing me up. His gaze is sharp, confident. And suddenly, I want to be anywhere but here with Travis, caught in this quiet moment of tension that's slowly suffocating me.

I give Travis a small, apologetic smile and step back. "I'm just gonna get some air."

I can feel Travis's eyes follow me, but I don't care. I need space. I need to breathe.

I make my way through the crowd, past the bodies swaying in rhythm to the beat, until I'm standing near the exit, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My head is swimming, the alcohol giving me a buzz I desperately need, but it doesn't calm the storm inside me.

And then he's there.

The guy from across the room. The one who'd been watching me with that knowing look. I didn't mean for it to happen, but he slides up beside me effortlessly, the space between us shrinking until it's just him, and the rest of the world fades into the background.

"You look like you need some company," he says, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the buzzing of the club.

I don't respond right away. My first instinct is to push him away, to walk back to Travis, but that's the last thing I want. Not tonight. I don't want to face him. I don't want to hear the words, the questions, the expectations. I just want to forget.