Lost in the Darkness // Billie Eilish

Part IX

I can't remember the last time I saw stars in LA.

Turns out, Prague has an abundance of them, sprinkling the sky.

The last thing Emma and I did before we left was stargaze. I thought it was corny and I still believe that, but it was nice. I'm led to believe if I did it with anyone else, I would've enjoyed it less— hell, I wouldn't have done it at all.

I've also realized, the more time I spend in Czechia, the more I dislike California.

LA is my forever home and nothing will change that, but there's a refreshing quality Prague has that LA cannot replicate.

The people are nicer, the air is cleaner, and I tend to be happier whenever I visit. Especially now.

And Emma. I can't forget Emma.

As of now, she's sitting crisscrossed on her living room rug, completing a puzzle. Nicholas had his head propped up on her thigh as he lays down, only moments away from dozing off.

"You remind me of Christmas," I blurt unexpectedly.

She looks up and over at me, cracking a smile, a puzzle piece in between her fingers. "And why is that?"

"I dunno. You just do."

"Christmas is your favorite holiday, yes?"

"Of course."

She tends back to her puzzle, a cocky smirk spread across her lips. She says nothing.

"What?" I pry. "What's with the smile?"

"Nothing." Her smirk widens and I think, she's fighting back the urge to blush. Failing, but the effort was still apparent.

She clears her throat and changes the subject, "I moved your pillows back."

"What?"

"I just thought you should know."

She acts casually, or at least she's pretending to. I, on the other hand, begin to perk up.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Adjacent-"

"-Sleeping. Yes, adjacent sleeping." Emma chuckles adorably, shaking her head at my excitement.

"Don't get me wrong the guest room is amazing, but having someone physically next to you is a kind of comfort you can't imitate. What made you change your mind? You finally realize I'm not a serial killer?" I joke.

"Oh I knew very well you weren't dangerous or anything like that. In fact, I trusted you from the beginning. I just liked making you wait."

I gasp, feeling betrayed, and shoved her lightly. "You fuckin' serious? That's evil!"

"Forgive me?" She takes my hands and holds them in an obviously sarcastic, begging manner.

"Dude, you know I could never be upset with you. I hate it." I pretend to be bitter and shake away her hands. My bitterness was only an excuse, this hand holding thing made me far too nervous and I needed to let go.

Just in time, the oven dings, suddenly making me very aware of the warm smell of cookies drifting through the air.

She stands up and slides a pair of oven mits on before removing the cookie pan, setting it on the counter afterwards.

Once they've cooled, she stacks a few on a plate for me and some for herself, then pours two glasses of milk.

We sit on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, legs entangled and out put on a movie.

The night moves languidly, quietly too. A candle or two is lit, showers have been taken and Nicolas is snoring lightly in his doggy bed.

As for me, I have gotten myself quite acquainted to Emma's room. I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, mindlessly kicking my feet back. Half of my brain is doing some well-needed thinking, the other half is focused on Emma as she goes through her nightly routine. (Removing makeup, applying a layer of lotion, pulling up her hair, etc.)

She knows I'm staring as she moves from one end of the room to the other, but she doesn't seem to mind this time.

"Can I ask you one final question before bed?"

"I do nothing but ask you questions, I think it's only fair you do the same." She replies as she reaches a hand behind her back and unclasps her bra, pulling it out from under her shirt then later into her laundry basket. It takes me aback a little but I ignore it.

"Is there another reason besides wanting to see me wait that kept us from adjacent sleeping? That seems a bit too petty to be the real answer," I laugh lightly, but I'm genuinely curious.

She doesn't bother holding back and answers fairly quickly. "I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"And what idea is that?"

"You know." Is all she says.

"It's harmless though. It is now and always was. I'm just a little bitch who can't sleep alone, it wasn't that deep." I chuckle at the last part.

"Yes, I know, I know. I just had this whole spiel thing going, where I said you were young and immature and I was too old for you. It would be kind of contradicting to let someone I vaguely turned down sleep in my bed, no?"

"What changed?"

She doesn't respond immediately, but she looks at me briefly through her dresser mirror.

"I don't have a good answer for that question." Her eyes flicker away.

"Am I still too young?"

She laughs softly, making my heart thump a little louder. She turns around to face me, "how many times will you ask me that Billie?"

"Hm?" She reaches her hands out, signaling for me to finally stand up.

"Until I get the answer I want to hear." I take both of her hands and rise to my feet in front of her.

"Okay," she takes a step closer. "I don't know anymore. Is that satisfactory?"

I grumble when she tries to beat around the bush again, "you and your big words..."

"Do you not like the way I speak?"

"No, no, I love it. Your accent drives me into the ground."

"You love it?" She repeats, her voice just as soft and cautious as it was in our interview.

"I do. And I like you. Like, a lot."

I usually end up regretting when I speak before I think— not this time.

She smiles, not being able to contain how wide it spreads. The look on her face is almost as if she's been waiting for me to say this.

"Like a ridiculous amount. It's insane."

"Really?" She tilts her head again ever so slightly. Teasingly.

That move always gets me. I can feel my face getting hot and my blushing beginning to travel to the tip of my ears.

I start rambling, trying to explain how she makes me feel. With no clear direction, I just start uttering words.

Her smile is more delicate now as she listens to what I have to say, not really paying attention, but staring at my lips. Her smile is warm and inviting. A little condescending, but I like it. A lot actually.

"Billie." Emma looks down at me and pulls me closer by my hands. She gently combs through my hair with her fingers, pushing it back as if it's in her way. By this point, I can hear my heart beat clear as day, pounding in my ears.

"Yes?"

"Be quiet."

"Okay,"

Before I have time to process whats happening, she places a hand on my cheek, tilting my head up.

And then she kisses me.