Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

music heals?

The next morning was quiet, with an uneasy calm settling in the house. Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the television, though it was clear she wasn’t paying attention to what was on. Billie and Finneas exchanged concerned glances; they could feel how heavy the air was around her.

Finneas cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I was thinking… maybe we could play some music together today? Just us, like we used to.” He smiled softly, trying to keep his tone light and inviting.

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to him briefly, her face expressionless. Inside, she felt a deep sense of dread at the idea. Music, once her safe haven, now felt like a burden. The thought of picking up her guitar or writing a song made her feel hollow. But she couldn’t bring herself to say no. They wanted this, and she didn’t want to be the reason to disappoint them again.

“Sure,” she mumbled, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She felt numb, like she was just going through the motions.

Billie, sensing Y/N’s hesitance but not wanting to push too hard, added, “No pressure, though. We don’t have to write anything. We can just jam, mess around like we used to.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that music wasn’t what it used to be. It no longer felt like hers. The passion that once fueled her creativity had been snuffed out by the weight of everything she had been through. The negative comments, the pressure, the anxiety—it all suffocated her love for the one thing that had once made her feel alive.

Finneas grabbed his guitar, strumming a few gentle chords. Billie joined in, her voice harmonizing effortlessly. Y/N watched them, feeling like an outsider looking in, even though she was sitting right next to them.

They looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to join in, but all Y/N could manage was a forced smile. She picked up a notebook, the pages blank and untouched, but her hand felt heavy as she held the pen. No words came to her. No melodies played in her mind.

“You okay?” Billie asked softly, noticing the way Y/N was gripping the pen tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Y/N shrugged, her throat tight. “Yeah… just, I don’t really have anything right now. Sorry.”

Finneas stopped playing, sensing her discomfort. “It’s okay, Y/N. We don’t have to do this if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Y/N felt a pang of guilt. They were trying so hard, and here she was, unable to even fake enthusiasm for something that used to be her world. She hated it. She hated that she couldn’t give them what they wanted—what they needed from her.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just… keep going.”

But the truth was, Y/N felt nothing. She was too numb to play, too numb to feel the music, and the more they played, the further away she drifted.