TNT Short Fics

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it (3/3)

***5****

Taylor sighs as she looks out of the window. The rain is a paid actor to the melancholy atmosphere surrounding the house.

When Travis returned home after a morning of exit interviews at the facility, he'd kissed her on the cheek and told her he was going to play video games downstairs to get out of his head.

Knowing he needed a few minutes of mindless activity, she'd left him to it. But here alone in the kitchen, she realizes that staring at the rain isn't going to get her anywhere. She eyes the pile of stuff Travis had dropped in the hallway from his locker. But no matter how sad he is, that is his pile of shit to deal with.

Instead, she pulls out the ingredients for cinnamon rolls. Travis has been on a strict diet for the last few weeks, so it has been since their "Christmas" morning (aka the 26th) that she'd last made them.

The familiar act of measuring out ingredients clears her head. She lets the act of kneading the dough take over. She puts her frustration into the strong push and pull of kneading. She knows there is not a lot she can do to help beyond just being there for Travis. Brittany and Chariah both said the same from experience. And she knows Travis and how he works through things. It takes time, and he'll be fine in the long run.

That doesn't mean she isn't frustrated that she cannot make it better instantly.

As she sets the dough to the side to proof, she hears the faint sounds of music. And not the heavy bass beat that puncuates mosts video games. It's familiar. She drops the dish towel she's been using to wipe the counter and heads for the stairs.

She finds Travis sprawled out across the sectional, socked feet propped up on the arm. Eyes closed with the remote to the stereo system held in the hand that rests across his chest. He probably would look relaxed to anyone else in the world. But she sees the furrow between his brow and the clenched jaw. He's in it.

And he's listening to "I Hate It Here".

As she realizes this, the song fades and the next song starts. "Castles Crumbling" fills the room.

"Are you listening to a sad Taylor Swift playlist, Trav?" she asks, amused.

He startles and opens his eyes. His cheeks immediately pink up, but he doesn't look embarrassed. Not that she would expect him to. She's learned to deal with the amusing reality of having a significant other who is a fan of her work. So no, not embarrassed, just the same quiet sadness, he's had all week.

He starts to say something, but then shrugs. She crosses the room and swats his hip so he'll scoot over for her to sit at the edge of the couch where he lies.

"Do you feel like this?" she questions quietly. It's a little too on the nose, but also so far from the truth about how most people feel about him. It makes her heart clench to think he feels like this.

"I don't know. Maybe a little," he answers quietly. "I just feel like I disappointed people."

There isn't much she can say to that, because as much as she knows it's not true for her, there obviously are people out there who are. And once again, she wishes she could make it better.

"I'm just upset, so I think I just want to hear songs that feel how I feel," he continues.

She doesn't know what else to say, so she says the only thing she knows to be true.

"I love you."

He melts at that and reaches up to caress her cheek. "I know, baby. I love you too. And I appreciate you being in this with me."

She grabs his hand that is on her face and interlaces their fingers, squeezing three times.

"Always."

As he pulls their hands close to kiss the top of her hand, the song changes, and "this is me trying" starts to play. She gives him a look, but he just shrugs. "I dunno, maybe the only way you can find yourself in the light is to find yourself in the dark first."

She smiles at that. Her boy who swears he's no good with words, and yet always finds the perfect ones.

"I love that, Trav," she says. "But can I put in a suggestion?"

"You want to add to my sad Taylor Swift playlist?" he chuckles.

"Well, yeah, I am an expert after all," she retorts. "And it might not be sad. Maybe it is what comes next."

He starts to hand her the phone to add the song, but she shakes her head. "I have to get the recording of it from Steve. The album version isn't quite right."

"Okay, Tay," he replies as she pulls out her phone and texts the soundboard operator from the tour.

"Now, until you get your new song, do you want to be left alone, or would you maybe want to come hang out with me? I have to go punch out the dough but then we can watch a movie."

"The dough?" he asks, eyes lighting up in anticipation.

She rolls her eyes at him, and he laughs. A sound she's not heard nearly enough of this week.

"Cinnamon rolls for my sad boy," she says with an exaggerated pout as she pulls him up.

A few hours later, she texts him a file as she heads off to shower. Leaving him with a kiss on his cheek to listen and feel his feelings.

As the familiar song comes through his headphones, he feels something click back into place. Like maybe the light is just starting to peek through. It feels like standing in a crowd of 80,000 people with her eyes only on him. It feels like love. It feels like maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.

Just a shot, just a shot in the dark, oh, oh

All you got, all you got are your shattered hopes

They never saw it coming, you hit the ground running

And now you're onto something, I, I, I say

What a sight, what a sight when the light came on

Proved me right, proved me right when you proved them wrong

And in this perfect weather, it's like we don't remember

The rain we thought would last forever and ever