Haunted Melodies - Billie Eilish Story

Between love and loss

Between Love and Loss

Y/N had spent the night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, the lingering warmth of Billie and Finneas’s presence still buzzing in their chest. They had both stayed late after the impromptu jam session, the laughter and music distracting Y/N from the storm brewing inside. But now, alone in the quiet, the weight of everything returned.

The darkness wasn’t something that disappeared overnight. It clung to Y/N’s thoughts like a shadow, creeping back in when the world went still. And as the minutes ticked by, Y/N felt the sadness claw its way back into their heart.

But alongside that sadness, there was something else—something new. It was the memory of Billie’s gentle words, the way her hand had rested on Y/N’s shoulder, grounding them in a way they hadn’t expected. It was the soft strumming of Finneas’s guitar, the music carrying a kind of hope that Y/N had forgotten existed.

They weren’t used to this. The kindness. The warmth. It was foreign, almost uncomfortable, like wearing someone else’s clothes. They had spent so long building walls to keep people out, but Billie and Finneas had slipped past them so easily, like they were meant to be there all along.

A knock at the door interrupted their thoughts, soft and hesitant.

“Y/N? It’s me.”

Billie’s voice floated through the door, gentle and quiet, as if she knew exactly what Y/N was feeling. Y/N sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They hadn’t expected her to come back so soon.

“Come in,” Y/N called, their voice hoarse from the lack of sleep.

The door creaked open, and Billie stepped inside, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Her hair was slightly messy, like she’d just woken up, and there was a softness in her eyes that made Y/N’s heart twist in a way they couldn’t explain.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Billie asked, her tone knowing. She had probably seen the exhaustion in Y/N’s eyes earlier that day, the way they had been trying to hold themselves together.

Y/N shook their head. “Not really.”

Billie walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, her presence immediately comforting in the quiet room. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the silence settle between them, her gaze fixed on Y/N with that same quiet concern she always had.

“I was thinking,” Billie began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “about what you said yesterday. About not knowing how to keep going.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the memory, the rawness of their confession still fresh in their mind. They had let themselves fall apart in front of Billie, and now they felt exposed, vulnerable in a way they weren’t used to.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you,” Y/N mumbled, their eyes falling to the floor. “I know it’s a lot.”

Billie’s hand found Y/N’s, her fingers curling around theirs in a gentle squeeze. The warmth of her touch was grounding, a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in Y/N’s chest.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Billie said quietly, her voice firm but kind. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the familiar ache of guilt rising in their throat. “It just feels like… like I’m dragging everyone down with me. I don’t want to be that person.”

Billie’s grip on their hand tightened slightly, and when Y/N finally looked up, they saw something in her eyes that took their breath away. It was empathy, yes, but also something deeper. Something softer, more intimate.