Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

back in

Y/N followed Billie back inside, her steps slow and hesitant. The kitchen was warm, the smell of freshly cooked food filling the air, but Y/N’s stomach turned at the thought of eating. Finneas was at the counter, putting away some plates when he looked up, concern still etched on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing between her and Billie.

Y/N offered a weak nod, though she couldn’t muster a response. She didn’t feel okay, not really, but she didn’t have the energy to explain. Instead, she moved toward the table, taking a seat without touching the food that had been laid out. It was easier this way—just sitting quietly, blending into the background.

Billie sat next to her, not pushing, but keeping a watchful eye. Finneas took his seat as well, though the usual conversation between the siblings was missing. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavier than normal, like everyone was waiting for something to be said.

Y/N stared at her plate, the food in front of her blurred by the fog in her mind. She could feel Billie and Finneas exchanging glances, both of them aware that something was wrong but unsure how to approach it. Y/N didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to admit how hard things had gotten. Every word felt like a weight on her chest.

Finneas cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… it’s okay if you’re not hungry right now. But you’ve barely eaten, Y/N. We’re just worried.”

Y/N bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. “I know,” she muttered. “I just… I can’t.”

Billie leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “Can’t what? Eat? Or… everything else?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel their concern, their love, but it was suffocating. She wanted to explain, wanted to tell them about the constant pressure, the comments, the fear that had rooted itself deep inside her. But the words felt stuck, tangled in her throat.

“I don’t know,” she whispered finally. “It’s all just… too much.”

Finneas set his fork down, his gaze steady but gentle. “Y/N, we get it. It’s not easy. And you don’t have to figure it all out right now. But shutting down… that’s not the answer. We don’t want to see you hurting like this.”

Y/N clenched her fists under the table, the weight of their words pressing down on her. She knew they were right—she knew she needed to talk, to let them in. But the fear of saying it all out loud, of admitting how lost she felt, was paralyzing.

Billie reached out, placing a hand on Y/N’s arm. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever’s going on, we’re here. You don’t have to be afraid of that.”

Y/N looked up at her sister, the warmth in her eyes cutting through the fog for just a moment. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “It’s not just the comments. It’s everything. Every time I try to write, or even think about making music, I freeze. I keep imagining what people will say, what they’ll pick apart. I can’t block it out, Billie. I can’t.”

Billie’s expression softened, her grip on Y/N’s arm tightening slightly. “You don’t have to be perfect, Y/N. No one is. The music you make—it’s yours. It’s not about them.”

“But it feels like it is,” Y/N said, her voice cracking. “It feels like everything I do is for them, and I hate it. I don’t even know if I’m doing this for myself anymore. I used to love it, but now… I don’t know. I’m scared I’m losing that part of me.”

Finneas’s eyes darkened with empathy, and he nodded slowly. “It’s easy to lose sight of yourself when the world is watching. But we can help you find it again. You don’t have to face this alone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as she sat between her siblings. For a long time, she had tried to convince herself that she could handle it, that she didn’t need to burden them with her pain. But sitting here now, she realized how much she had been holding back, and how desperately she needed their support.

“I don’t want to give up,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “But I don’t know how to keep going.”

Billie’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. “You won’t give up. We won’t let you. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

Finneas leaned in, his voice soft but steady. “And if you need a break, that’s okay too. You don’t have to write, you don’t have to force yourself. Just be, Y/N. We’re with you, no matter what.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into Billie’s embrace, her body shaking slightly as she let the tears fall. It wasn’t easy, admitting the weight she had been carrying, but in that moment, with her siblings by her side, it felt a little lighter.

After a while, Billie pulled back slightly, brushing a tear from Y/N’s cheek. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not ready, but maybe you can just sit with us for a while. You don’t have to do anything—just be here.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a small sense of relief wash over her. She wasn’t sure what the next steps were, or how she would find her way back to the music she loved. But for now, sitting with Billie and Finneas, she didn’t feel as lost. The fog hadn’t lifted, but it wasn’t as thick. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for today.

As the three of them sat together in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, Y/N realized that she didn’t have to have all the answers right now. All she needed was time—and the love of the two people who knew her best. And that was enough. For now, it was enough.