Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

The cost of being seen

Chapter 2: The Cost of Being Seen

The moment Y/N stepped back into the crowd with Billie, she could feel the eyes on her again. The whispers were low, but unmistakable—the kind that made her skin crawl. She kept her head down, trying to make herself as small as possible, but it didn’t stop the feeling of being watched, scrutinized, picked apart.

They were everywhere—the cameras, the phones, the flashing lights. Each flicker of light felt like another piece of her being stolen and broadcasted to the world. Y/N tugged at the sleeves of her oversized jacket, wishing it could swallow her whole.

As they walked towards another interview spot, a few photographers managed to get too close.

"Y/N! Over here! Look this way!"

"Y/N, show us a smile!"

Her heart raced. The shouts grew more aggressive, more persistent. She flinched as one guy leaned in too close with his camera, snapping shot after shot.

"You’re looking real good tonight, Y/N," one of them yelled out with a smirk that made her stomach twist. "Finally showing off a little, huh?"

Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment and anger. She wasn’t showing off—she was just trying to exist, trying to breathe through the suffocating pressure. She pulled her jacket tighter around her body, wishing she could disappear.

But the worst part wasn’t the photographers. It was the crowd. The online crowd. She knew exactly what would happen the moment the photos hit social media.

Even now, people were already taking pictures and videos on their phones, zooming in, recording her every move. The internet had a way of turning every innocent action into something dirty, something to be dissected. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the comments started pouring in.

She hated it. The way people talked about her body, the way they made her feel like a thing, not a person. It was always the same—Y/N Eilish steps out in revealing outfit, Is Y/N trying to be like Billie?, Y/N showing off for attention. The headlines would swarm by morning.

But the worst were the comments. They clung to her, dug into her mind and refused to let go.

"Why’s she always hiding under those baggy clothes? She’s got a body, why not show it off?"

"Bet she’s a freak, just like her sister."

"I’d love to see more of her, if you know what I mean."

Her stomach turned, nausea swirling as she imagined the tweets, the Instagram posts, the YouTube breakdowns of every outfit, every smile, every moment of her just existing. People didn’t see her as a person anymore. She was just Billie’s younger sister, an object of curiosity, a shiny new toy for the world to obsess over.

Y/N couldn’t breathe. The room felt too small, too loud, too invasive. Every comment, every lewd glance from the crowd felt like it was cutting into her skin, making her feel less and less like herself.

"Y/N," Finneas’s voice was a lifeline, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. He touched her arm gently, noticing her pale face, her wide eyes. "Do you want to get out of here? We can go home."

For a moment, Y/N considered it—running, leaving this nightmare behind. But she couldn’t. This was their life, their reality. If she ran now, she’d be running forever.

"No, it’s fine," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I’ll be okay."

Billie turned to her, eyes full of worry. "You don’t have to stay if it’s too much. We can leave. No one will blame you."

But Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want to be the reason they left. Billie and Finneas had worked hard for this night, and she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it for them.

"Let’s just get through it," she muttered, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I’m fine. Really."

They didn’t look convinced, but they didn’t push her either.

For the next hour, Y/N kept her head down, stuck close to Billie and Finneas, trying to stay out of sight. But no matter where she went, the cameras found her, the whispers followed. She couldn’t escape the feeling of being on display, of being something for people to consume.

Finally, the event was over, and they were back in the car. Y/N slumped against the seat, her whole body aching with exhaustion. The silence in the car was a stark contrast to the chaos they’d just left behind.

"You did good tonight," Billie said softly, giving her a gentle nudge. "I know it wasn’t easy."

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t feel like she’d done good. She felt drained, hollow, like she’d left a piece of herself back on that red carpet, and she wasn’t sure how to get it back.

Back home, Y/N collapsed onto her bed, too tired to even change out of her clothes. She grabbed her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

And there it was.

Photo after photo, video after video. People dissecting her every move, her every expression. And the comments… they were exactly what she feared.

"She looks miserable."

"Why does she even bother coming to these things?"

"She’s only famous because of Billie and Finneas."

"Her body’s amazing though. Wish she’d show a little more."

"Bet she’s a freak behind closed doors."

Y/N dropped her phone, her chest tightening with every breath. The world didn’t see her. They saw an image, a body, a product to consume. And it hurt more than she could ever explain.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N let herself cry. Because in that moment, she wasn’t sure if she could keep doing this. If she could keep being seen by a world that only saw her as something to tear apart.