𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 | billie eilish

026

saturday - march 6, 2021

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧
𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎, 𝟐:𝟒𝟎𝐩𝐦
𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬

It's been a month and three days since Savanna was discharged from the hospital.

It's been 35 days since Billie's lips merged with mine for the first and last time ever since.

And in the past 816 hours, our romantic feelings became more dominant and even more importantly, more undeniable.

Publicly, we don't exhibit our intimate friendship with sexual tendencies.

We would have to await the occurrence of hateful remarks of our surroundings, especially at school, where we are greatly exposed to people.

And frankly, we're not attracted to that specific idea, thus, we favour keeping the establishment of our friendship as discreet as possible.

"See you tomorrow," she smiles gleefully whilst facing me as I'm leaning against the chalky brick wall next to myriads of lockers.

This could be an ideal opportunity to kiss her, wouldn't it?

The bare thought of it already gives solace to me, however, taking it a step further would perhaps faze her; unintentionally on my part.

Accordingly, I only scan the temporarily emptied hallways prior to embracing her minimally shorter figure fondly and whispering 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

Separating my body from hers feels like a fracture in my bones, even if that sounds overstated after only a few weeks of socializing with her.

Observing her movements conditions me the same way drugs would do; either is paralyzing for a short period of time. And both could send me into trance shamelessly.

"I'll text you later," she mumbles, and her intimidating eyes share a split second of uninterrupted contact with mine.

I frown slightly, but I don't greatly question her unambiguous statement.

She knows what she's doing.

Sluggishly detaching myself from her, I shoot a brief glance behind me to confirm my presumption of her still following me with her vision.

Regrettably, that is not the case anymore, as she herself is already heading in another direction, hence I hurry out of the building rather briskly.

By the time I reach the porch of our door at home, the fierce sunshine from above already succeeded on contributing to a feverish and light-headed sensation that is spreading throughout my entire body; from head to toe.

Notwithstanding the fact that Savanna is far from being in unblemished condition to labour eight-hour shifts a day, she does it anyway, endangering her already debilitated immune system.

Unlike today, she never returns home any earlier than 4:30pm. She regularly promises it but ends up doing overtime as usual.

Today's a unique day, since we're going to fetch Dad from the airport around 5:30pm.

And frankly, the imagination of being in his arms in less than three hours makes tears of euphoria flood my eyes.

Mom, on the contrary, still hasn't accommodated to the idea of Ayron staying at our house for a week before retiring from California again, and her feelings are quite comprehensible.

Nothing heals the past like time, but not in her case. The wound hasn't turned into a scar yet, it's infected and burning mercilessly up to this time.