BLUEPRINTS || Billie Eilish

Knock on the door

"Billie!" Maggie's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the faint hum of unpacking chaos that had filled the new house for days. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the scattered boxes and half-opened packages littering the floor. There was an unmistakable edge to her tone.

"What?" Billie's voice called from the living room, panic slipping in as she rushed back into the kitchen. "What happened?"

Maggie didn't even need to look at her. She just sighed, motioning to the disarray  byaround them. "Didn't I ask you to unpack these and put them away?"

Billie's gaze dropped to the boxes as realization dawned. She'd been caught up in a thousand different tasks since moving in, and unpacking the kitchen hadn't exactly been high on the priority list. "I know, Ma. I've just... been busy," Billie said, a little defensive but also trying to soften the excuse. She stepped carefully over a box, making a beeline for the fridge and grabbing her water bottle. The cold metal felt grounding in her hands. "I'll get to it, I swear."

Maggie, however, wasn't convinced. Her eyes roamed the countertops, where stacks of dishes sat waiting to be put in cabinets, rolls of bubble wrap spilling onto the floor. "Billie, the contractors are coming today," she reminded her daughter, her tone firmer now. "What if they need to come inside to use the bathroom or, God forbid, walk through this mess? This place is one big safety hazard."

Billie couldn't help herself. She smirked, her playful side coming through. "Are the contractors blind or something? I'm pretty sure they can dodge a few boxes." She took a swig of water, leaning against the counter casually.

Maggie shot her a look, the kind of look only a mother could give, one that said without words: I don't find this funny. "I'm going grocery shopping because you have next to nothing here, and honestly, it would really ease my stress if you could at least get the kitchen organized. Pots, pans, dishes... something. Please?"

Billie groaned internally. Moving out hadn't meant moving away from her mother's nagging—if anything, it had followed her into her new space. She took a deep breath, realizing Maggie wasn't wrong. "Okay, okay, I'll get it done," Billie said, rolling her eyes slightly. "I moved out, and I'm still being bossed around."

Maggie's eyes softened, her usual tough exterior cracking just a little. "I'm not bossing you around, Billie. I'm just... trying to help."

Billie felt a pang of guilt. She could tell her mom was genuinely worried. "By the time you get back, this kitchen's gonna be an OCD person's heaven, I promise," she reassured with a grin, holding up her hands as if in surrender.

Maggie smiled, the tension between them melting away. She stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on Billie's forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart."

With that, Maggie grabbed her purse and headed for the door, leaving Billie alone in the stillness of her half-unpacked home. As soon as the door clicked shut, Billie exhaled dramatically, pushing her hair back and surveying the mess. "Okay, let's do this," she muttered to herself, rolling up her sleeves. She popped in her headphones, the familiar beats of a playlist filling the space, giving her the boost she needed.

With music setting the mood, Billie got to work. She opened each box with purpose now, pulling out dishes and deciding where they belonged, how she wanted her kitchen to feel. She wasn't just unpacking—she was crafting a space that felt like her. She stacked the spices neatly in a cabinet, placed the flour and sugar in sleek jars, and started arranging the plates and cups in a way that oddly soothed her.

She was lost in the rhythm of it—head bopping along to the beat—when a loud knock at the door snapped her back to reality.

Billie groaned, the interruption breaking her flow. "It's always something," she muttered under her breath, stepping carefully over a pile of bubble wrap as she made her way to the door.