You're Mine // WLW

Midnight Confessions

The next morning came too quickly. I barely slept, tossing and turning all night as my mind replayed everything from the festival. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I need to get it together, today isn't going to be about Billie, Dylan or any of that drama. Today was about promoting my upcoming album. I needed to get ready for the radio interview that I was supposed to be at in a couple hours.

I dragged myself out of bed, my body feeling heavy. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright and warm, mocking the dull ache in my chest. I glanced at the clock, it just hit 9:30am. I should have enough time to shower, get dressed and eat something before I head over.

I stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, hoping it would wash over away the remnants of last night. My mind stubbornly kept drifting back, replaying everything little moment. The way Billie's eyes burnt into my soul, the way Dylan's voice had dripped with jealousy, the flashes of what happened on that stage. It all mixed together into a mess that I couldn't untangle and I found myself letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Focus." I whispered to myself, as if saying it out loud would make it easier. I had to get my head in the game. Today was about me and me only.

I eventually managed to pull myself together, drying off and rummaging through my clothes for something to wear. I didn't want to look too dressed up, but I also didn't want to look like I just rolled out of bed either. After a minute of indecision, I settled on a black jumpsuit and a black denim jacket to match. It was casual but stylish, something that would look good on camera.

As I ran a brush through my hair, I kept rehearsing what I'd say in the interview. They'd ask about my album, about my inspiration, maybe a few non music related questions. I feel like I know the answers, I had practiced them so many times I could say them in my sleep. Strangely enough, there was a new tension now. A fear that somehow Billie or any of that drama would come up even if it was just a passing mention.

I tried to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach as I finished getting ready. I need to eat something before I left, but the thought of food made my stomach turn. Instead, I settled for a cup of water taking sips as I stared out the window.

I pulled out my phone to check the time and for the moment, my thumb hovered over the Twitter app. I knew I shouldn't. I knew it could only possibly make me feel worse, but the curiosity gnawed at me. Before I could stop myself, I was already scrolling through my feed, scanning for any mention of Billie or the performance last night.

There were still a few tweets buzzing about our supposed backstage interaction, fans speculating and wondering what had happened. For the most part, the majority of the tweets were about Billie's mini performance at the Do LaB. Fans were still gushing over the new songs and that moment where she kissed her.

I bit my lip, a familiar knot tightening in my chest. I tried to scroll past the tweets, but then a video caught my eye—one that sent chills down my spine. It was from last night in the VIP lounge. The angle was shaky, like someone had taken it from across the room on their phone, but it was clear enough to make out what was happening.

"Fuck!" I yelled. I can never catch a break. I don't need this happening on top of everything else.

It was Dylan and I, our faces tense, the way we were leaning in, voices sharp. I could see the moment where I turned away frustrated and then Dylan stepped closer, blocking my path. My stomach dropped as I watched, realizing how bad it actually was. We were arguing, and not just a casual disagreement—the tension between us was obvious.