Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

slipping away

Chapter 40: slipping away

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the living room. Finneas blinked his eyes open, groggy from the restless night before. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, and glanced around the room. Billie stirred next to him, still half-asleep.

Then, his gaze landed on Y/N.

She hadn’t moved much. Still curled up on the couch, but now she was awake—staring intently at a small ball she had picked up from the floor. It was the kind of thing she would have absentmindedly played with when she was younger, tossing it between her hands or rolling it back and forth. But now, her gaze was distant, unfocused, as if she was somewhere far away in her thoughts. She didn’t even notice that her siblings were awake.

Finneas looked at Billie, who had also woken up and was watching Y/N with worried eyes.

"She looks so… stuck," Billie whispered, barely audible. "Like she wants to reach out but can’t."

Finneas nodded, his heart sinking. He could see it in Y/N’s eyes—the internal struggle she was battling. Her small body was still curled up, defensively tight. It was like she was aching for comfort, for the familiar warmth of their hugs, but something—her thoughts, the comments, the weight of everything—kept pulling her back, telling her she didn’t deserve it.

Billie shifted closer, but cautiously. “Morning, Y/N,” she said softly.

Y/N blinked, her eyes flickering to Billie, but she said nothing. Her fingers tightened around the ball, her knuckles turning white.

Finneas leaned forward, trying to catch her gaze. “We were thinking about breakfast. What do you say? Pancakes, maybe? Or we could order something special.”

Y/N’s lips parted as if she was going to say something, but then she closed them again, her gaze dropping back to the ball. The silence hung heavy between them. She was withdrawing again, sinking deeper into her own world where words didn’t seem to reach her.

Billie sighed, exchanging a glance with Finneas. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she said gently, “but we’d love for you to join us for breakfast.”

Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, barely moving. It was a quiet refusal, but it was clear. She wasn’t going to take part in the conversation—or breakfast.

Finneas’s heart ached at the sight. His little sister, who used to be so full of energy and laughter, was now a shell of that girl. Every move she made was weighed down by something they couldn’t fully understand but desperately wanted to fix. And now, staring at that small ball like it was the only thing anchoring her, Y/N looked even more fragile.

Billie reached out tentatively, her voice soft. “Hey… you know we’re here, right? You can tell us if something’s bothering you.”

Y/N’s lips twitched, but she remained silent, still holding the ball tightly. She shifted, her small frame still curled up defensively as if the world outside the safety of her arms was too overwhelming.

Finneas and Billie exchanged another worried glance. They didn’t push her further, knowing that pushing might make her retreat even more.

“Okay,” Finneas said softly. “We’ll make breakfast and leave some for you if you change your mind.”

They both stood, moving slowly, as if any sudden movements might break the delicate silence surrounding Y/N. They headed toward the kitchen, leaving her alone on the couch, staring at the ball.

Once they were out of earshot, Billie’s shoulders slumped. “She’s slipping further away, isn’t she?”

Finneas nodded, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, it feels like no matter what we say or do, she’s just… stuck. And I don’t know how to pull her out of it.”

Billie leaned against the counter, her eyes brimming with emotion. “I want to hug her so badly. She’s right there, and I can see how much she needs it. But it’s like she’s locked herself away from us.”

Finneas sighed. “Her heart wants to reach out, but her mind is telling her not to. It’s like there’s a wall between her and us, and she’s too scared to break through it.”

They both stood there in silence for a moment, feeling helpless. The tension in the house was palpable, and despite their best efforts, it seemed like Y/N was only retreating further.

“She won’t even talk about breakfast,” Billie muttered, shaking her head. “That’s not her. She always loved sitting with us, even if she wasn’t hungry.”

“I know,” Finneas agreed, his voice low. “But maybe we just have to be patient. Let her come to us when she’s ready.”

Billie exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “What if she never feels ready?”

Finneas didn’t have an answer. All they could do was wait, watch, and hope that Y/N would let them in before the weight of her thoughts pulled her too far into the darkness.

They started preparing breakfast, the sound of clinking plates and the sizzle of the stove filling the room. But in the back of their minds, Y/N’s distant stare and tightly curled form lingered. They couldn’t shake the image of her, so small and vulnerable, battling a storm they couldn’t see but could feel with every moment of her silence.

As the smell of pancakes filled the air, Finneas glanced toward the living room, wondering if Y/N would ever come to the table, or if she would stay curled up, alone, and lost in her thoughts.