Patience//BILLIE EILISH

eight

"I like you too, Billie," I vocalize.

After a moment of peace between us, I look back down to the journal and write in it, "Did I say that right? It was important."

She nods, smiling widely when I look back up to her.

This girl is adorable.

We hang out at the fair a little longer, people watching, and failing at a couple of games before we decide to head back.

Billie places her hand on the small of my back, sending shivers up my spine, and I cling tightly to my stuffies.

She leads me to the car and opens the passenger door for me as well as buckling me in, so I don't have to put down our prizes.

Before she pulls away from latching my seatbelt into the hole, she leaves a quick kiss on my forehead and I giggle with butterflies. She smiles and leans back out of the car, getting in on her own side.

Billie looks to me before starting the car and signs, "stop store."

I nod with a smile and she takes that as an 'okay', pulling out of the crowded fair parking lot.

Although Billie can still barely sign, I am really impressed with her. I mean, it's only been a week and she already knows so much.

More important than how much she's learned is that she's taken the time to learn at all. She hasn't gotten lazy and resorted to texting or gestures only, and she learns romantic phrases to make our dates more special.

I just love it so much.

Thinking about how much effort Billie has put into purely getting to know me, makes my heart flutter a little and I reach to take her right hand off the wheel, intertwining our fingers and sighing in satisfaction.

I feel her thumb rub the back of my hand and get butterflies from her delicate touch. I soon feel myself getting tired and allow my eyes to flutter closed as Billie drives.

.

A hand squeezes mine, and another softly strokes the side of my face, making my eyes slowly open. I look to Billie and smile softly, signing a quick 'sorry' and sitting myself up straight to see a store through the windshield of the parked car.

I feel Billie's hand slide under my chin and turn me towards her as she leans up to kiss my cheek, mouthing, "You're good."

I go to open my door, but Billie squeezes my arm. I look over and she signs, "Wait."

I oblige, leaning back in my seat with a content smile.

I watch as Billie enters the store. and continue to stare, waiting for her to come back out.

As I watch the exit, I see people of all shapes and sizes carrying groceries or pushing carts. Some look rushed and worried, and others look like they don't have a care in the world.

Some of the girls are pretty and some of them are clearly fruity. There are mothers and fathers with children, and some customers that seem to still be kids themselves, perhaps running to the store for their parents or forced to grow up too fast.

I could people-watch forever. So many lives and so many stories walk in and out of those doors, all thinking different thoughts and holding different futures, whether bright or dark.

Some of them may lose a close loved one tomorrow and others may encounter the love of their life next week. Some women could be pregnant without knowledge quite yet, and some men could have kids they will never know about.

I could go on and on, but I think I see Billie walking up to the doors I've been so intently watching.

I see her striking self walk through the automatic doors, carrying a grocery bag in her right hand, and a bouquet of beautiful flowers in her left.

I don't know much about flowers, but the bouquet is a beautiful mix of yellow and pink ones, all different textures and shades. My heart absolutely melts as I see her carrying the gorgeous piece, and I feel my eyes get watery.

How did I find someone like her?

Billie approaches the car, and peeks in through the passenger window with a silly face, almost like a llama or something, and playfully bounces over to the driver side, sliding in.

When she gets a closer look at me, she sees the tears in my eyes, watching the one in my right eye fall when I blink.

She makes a pitiful face and brings her hand up to stroke my cheek.

"Just- go," I vocalize, feeling my voice get strained in my throat from keeping in the tears.

Billie smiles softly, presenting me with the flowers and kissing my hand quickly before turning the key in the ignition.

I hold the floral gift in both of my hands, still feeling emotional from the gesture.

I feel so loved.

I feel so appreciated and understood, like I actually have value to someone in this world. It's been a while since I've truly felt important and special.

I don't think I realized how much I needed it until I had it.

Thanks, Billie.

We finally arrive at my apartment building and make our way up to my place.

When we enter, Billie closes and locks the door behind me before pulling the journal out of her huge-ass pocket and following me to the couch.

I feel kind of awkward right now, not exactly knowing what Billie has in mind for coming back here. I mean, I figured we'd just hang out, but it can be so draining to communicate through writing.

I'm willing to do it though, for Billie.

She flips to an empty page and writes inside before showing it to me, "Can I ask why you were crying earlier?"

I blush slightly at the memory of Billie and her flowers, then gesture to them sitting on the counter.

She lifts an eyebrow, writing again, "The flowers?"

I take the pen this time, willing to explain a little bit, "I live in LA alone, and I have no friends here. I guess the flowers just made me feel special, something I haven't felt in a while now."

Billie quickly writes, "How long have you lived here?" looking back up to me in pitiful curiosity.

"Two months last week," I vocalize.

Billie nods her head slowly in contemplation before hesitantly writing in the book again, "Whens the last time you had a good cuddle session?"

A/n:

I was finishing up the chapter when Billie posted THAT PHOTO I PUT AT THE TOP. Help.