Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

A quiet step forward

Chapter 42: A Quiet Step Forward

The room remained still after the music stopped, the soft strumming of Finneas’s guitar still lingering in the air. Y/N stayed curled up in her corner, but the tension that had gripped her so tightly earlier seemed to have loosened—just a bit. Billie and Finneas sat quietly, watching her with hopeful eyes, waiting for any sign that the music had reached her.

Then, without a word, Y/N slowly sat up, her gaze still distant, but there was something different in her movements. She stood, leaving the ball behind, and walked across the room toward Finneas. Billie and Finneas exchanged a quick glance, unsure of what she was going to do.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She simply reached for the notepad and pen on the table. For a moment, she hovered there, her eyes focused on the blank page. Then, in slow, deliberate strokes, she began to write—just a few lines, a series of chords and notes. Her handwriting was neat, precise, as if she was concentrating hard on getting it just right.

Once she finished, Y/N tore the page out of the notepad and handed it to Finneas, her eyes never fully meeting his. Finneas accepted the page, carefully taking it from her, as if it were something fragile.

Billie and Finneas glanced at the chords she’d written down—simple, a progression that spoke of sadness but also something quietly beautiful. It was Y/N’s language, her way of speaking when words felt too heavy.

Y/N didn’t stay to see their reaction. She turned around and quietly walked back to her corner, curling up again, though not as tightly as before. She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at them—but the fact that she had moved at all, that she had written something and shared it with Finneas, felt like a breakthrough.

Finneas stared at the page in his hands, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and sadness. She was still in there, still trying to reach out in her own way.

“She’s writing,” Billie whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips, though it was tinged with sorrow. “She’s still making music.”

“Yeah,” Finneas murmured, his eyes scanning the chords. “This is her way of talking to us.”

Billie nodded, her gaze drifting back to Y/N, who sat quietly in her corner once more. She still hadn’t spoken, but the fact that she had written something down, passed it to Finneas, and allowed them to play music together was a sign. A small one, but it was there.

They didn’t push her any further. Finneas set the notepad down gently beside him, deciding to save the chords for later, when Y/N might feel ready to explore them together. For now, they let her return to her quiet corner, giving her space to breathe.

But in the silence that followed, there was a quiet sense of hope—a fragile, delicate thing, but hope nonetheless. Y/N wasn’t entirely gone. She still wanted to communicate, even if it was through music, and even if she wasn’t ready to fully reach out yet.

“She’ll come back,” Finneas said softly, his eyes still on Y/N. “Little by little, she’ll come back.”

Billie nodded, though her heart ached seeing Y/N retreat once more. But for now, they would take whatever small victories they could get. Even if it was just a few chords on a page, passed quietly from one sibling to another, it was something—proof that their little sister was still there, still fighting to stay connected in the only way she knew how.