He's my endgame! (Tayvis)

Morning, everywhere

Taylor woke to her phone vibrating against the nightstand.

Not ringing. Not buzzing once and stopping. Vibrating steadily, insistently, like it had been doing this for a while already.

She didn't reach for it right away.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and unassuming, the kind of light that belonged to any other day. For a few seconds, she let herself pretend that was true. That the world had not changed overnight. That the noise hadn't followed her into sleep.

Then the phone buzzed again.

She sat up and checked the time.

Too early for this many notifications.

She picked up the phone.

The screen filled instantly.

Messages stacked on messages. Missed calls. Group chats revived all at once. Headlines pushing through notifications without subtlety or hesitation.

She didn't open any of them at first. She just stared at the screen, the weight of inevitability settling in her chest.

So this was how it arrived.

Not gradually. Not politely.

All at once.

She stood and pressed her feet into the cool hotel carpet, grounding herself. Outside the window, the city moved like it always did. Traffic. Coffee shops opening. People heading to work.

The world had not paused for her moment.

Her phone buzzed again.

She opened her messages this time.

Tree, first.

Call me when you're up.

Her mom.

Good morning. Are you okay?

Friends. Band members. Old numbers resurfacing.

Then, finally, his name.

Morning. Just checking in.

No commentary.
No reaction.

Just him.

Her shoulders loosened before she even realized they'd been tense.

I'm awake, she typed. It's loud.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Yeah. Same here. You wanna talk?

She stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary, then hit call.

He answered on the second ring.

"Hey," he said, voice rough with sleep but steady underneath.

"Hey," she replied, curling one knee up onto the bed. "So... this is happening."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."

They sat with that for a beat, neither of them rushing to fill the space. She could hear movement on his end, a coffee machine, a cupboard closing.

"You okay?" he asked.

She thought about the question before answering. About how many times she'd been asked it before, how often it came loaded with expectation.

"I think so," she said honestly. "I'm not spiraling. That feels new."

He let out a soft breath. "Good."

She smiled faintly. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," he said. "It's weird. Not bad. Just... loud in a different way."

"Yeah," she murmured. "That tracks."

Another pause. This one felt more deliberate.

"I want to say this clearly," Travis said. "You didn't owe anyone that. You didn't owe me that. And I don't want this to feel like you stepped into something without backup."

Her throat tightened, just slightly.

"I don't feel cornered," she said. "I feel... chosen. By myself."

"That's what it looked like," he replied. "From where I was standing."

She closed her eyes.

"I just wanted to hear your voice before everything turned into opinions," she admitted.

"I'm really glad you called then," he said. "Because whatever this turns into out there, I'm good right here."

She laughed softly. "You're very calm."

"I'm not calm," he corrected gently. "I'm certain."

That landed.

She shifted on the bed, pressing her free hand into the sheets like she needed the physical reminder of where she was. "I'm going to have to deal with this today," she said. "Statements. Conversations. All of it."

"I figured," he said. "You want space, or you want me close?"

The question wasn't rhetorical. He meant it.

"Close," she said without hesitation. "Just... steady. Not hovering."

"I can do steady," he replied easily.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

They talked a little longer after that. About nothing important. About how she hadn't slept great. About how he'd already been sent three screenshots by his mom. The normalcy threaded through it all felt deliberate, grounding.

When they finally hung up, Taylor sat there for a moment longer, phone warm in her hand.

The noise was still there. The headlines were still multiplying.

But something fundamental had shifted.

She wasn't bracing.

She wasn't hiding.

She was standing in the middle of it, supported, certain, fully aware of what she had chosen.

And for the first time, the morning after didn't feel like damage control.

It felt like the beginning of something honest.