Haunted Melodies - Billie Eilish Story

Ghosts of the Past

Y/N sat at the edge of their bed, fingers idly tracing the frayed edges of an old notebook. The once vivid pages were now yellowed with time, the ink smudged from tears that had long since dried. Each page was filled with lyrics, melodies, and unfinished songs—remnants of a life they had left behind. A life where music wasn’t just a part of them—it was everything.

But that was before.

Before the accident. Before the sleepless nights, the panic attacks, the nightmares that dragged them into the past and refused to let go. Y/N had tried to bury it all—the music, the memories, the pain. But no matter how deep they tried to push it down, the melodies would always find their way back, haunting them like a ghost that couldn’t be exorcised.

With a sigh, they tossed the notebook aside and stood up, stretching their stiff muscles. It had been weeks since they left the apartment, and the isolation was starting to weigh on them. But the idea of facing the world, with its bright lights and loud noises, filled them with dread. Y/N had learned long ago that the outside world didn’t care about their scars. It would only rip them open again.

Just as they were about to collapse back into bed, their phone buzzed. The name on the screen made their heart skip a beat.

Billie.

It had been months since Y/N had heard from her. She had been busy—touring, recording, doing everything Y/N used to dream of doing. But still, seeing her name on the screen made something inside Y/N stir.

With a deep breath, Y/N swiped the screen.

"Hey," Billie’s voice was soft, a little breathless. "It’s been a while."

Y/N swallowed hard, forcing the words to come out. "Yeah. It has."

There was a pause on the other end, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Billie had always been good at filling the silence without forcing it.

"So, uh, I’m in town for a few days," Billie said finally. "Finneas and I are working on some new stuff, and… we were thinking about you."

Y/N froze. "Me?"

"Yeah. We’ve been talking about you a lot lately. About your music." Billie’s voice softened. "We miss you."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. Music. It was the one thing they had been trying to escape, and yet here it was, pulling them back in. But before Y/N could respond, Billie added, "No pressure, though. I just thought maybe… maybe you’d want to come by the studio. See what we’re working on."

Y/N’s mind raced. The studio. The last time they had been in a studio was before the accident, before everything fell apart. The thought of stepping back into that world sent a wave of panic crashing over them.

"I… I don’t know, Billie."

"I get it," Billie said quickly. "I really do. But just think about it, okay? No expectations. We just miss having you around."

The sincerity in Billie’s voice cut through the fog in Y/N’s mind, and for a moment, they let themselves wonder. Could they really go back? Could they face the music again, even after everything that had happened?

"I’ll think about it," Y/N said finally, though even as the words left their mouth, they weren’t sure if they meant them.

"That’s all I’m asking," Billie replied, her voice brightening just a little. "Take your time. I’ll text you the address if you decide to come."

Y/N didn’t respond, and after a few more moments of small talk, they ended the call. As soon as the line went dead, Y/N felt the familiar weight of anxiety settle in their chest.

What were they thinking? There was no way they could go back to the studio. Not after everything. Not with the memories that would surely resurface the moment they stepped through those doors.

But as Y/N lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, they couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—Billie was right.

Maybe it was time to stop running from the music.

The next day, Y/N found themselves pacing around their small apartment, the weight of Billie’s invitation heavy on their mind. They had told themselves they wouldn’t think about it—that they wouldn’t entertain the idea of going back to the studio. But every time they tried to distract themselves, the memories crept back in, unbidden.

The studio. The accident. The sound of screeching tires and shattering glass.

Y/N shook their head, trying to dispel the flashbacks. They couldn’t go back to that place—not physically, and certainly not mentally. But the music… the music still called to them. It was like an old friend, waiting patiently for Y/N to return, even after all the time they had spent apart.

With a groan, Y/N grabbed their jacket and keys, knowing there was only one way to quiet the thoughts racing through their head.

---

The studio was tucked away in a quiet part of town, far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Y/N hesitated outside the door, their heart pounding in their chest. They hadn’t texted Billie to say they were coming. They hadn’t even planned on it. But somehow, their feet had led them here.

Before they could talk themselves out of it, the door swung open, and Finneas appeared, a look of surprise flashing across his face.

"Y/N?"

Y/N offered a weak smile. "Hey."

Finneas grinned and stepped aside, gesturing for them to come in. "Billie’s going to freak when she sees you."

As Y/N stepped inside, the familiar smell of the studio washed over them, a mix of coffee, leather, and faint traces of incense. It was strange how something so simple could bring back a flood of memories, both good and bad.

Finneas led them through the hallway and into the main recording room, where Billie was hunched over a notebook, headphones on, lost in her own world.

"Look who decided to show up," Finneas called out, and Billie’s head snapped up, her eyes widening as she saw Y/N standing there.

"Y/N!" She pulled off the headphones and rushed over, enveloping them in a tight hug. "I’m so glad you came."

Y/N’s chest tightened, the warmth of Billie’s embrace contrasting with the cold fear still clinging to their heart. "Yeah, well… I figured it was time."

Billie pulled back, her eyes searching Y/N’s face for a moment before she smiled. "Come on. We’ve got something to show you."

As they walked toward the mixing board, Y/N felt the weight of the past lift just slightly. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. Something healing.

Something that could bring them back to life.