billie eilish one shots

you're alive, you're alive, you're alive

the early morning sunlight spills through the curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the bed. you're already halfway dressed, fumbling with your jacket as billie stirs under the covers. her messy blonde hair peeks out, and she squints up at you, still caught in the haze of sleep.

"you're leaving already?" she mumbles, her voice hoarse and soft.

"yeah," you reply, bending down to kiss her forehead. "i've got that meeting downtown, remember? traffic's gonna be brutal."

she groans, her hand reaching out to tug you closer. "skip it. stay here with me."

you laugh, leaning down to plant another kiss on her lips. "tempting. but if i skip every time you ask, i'll never leave the house."

billie pouts, her fingers brushing against your arm. "be safe, okay? promise me."

"i promise," you say softly.

she watches as you gather your things, her green eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with a quiet warmth. before you step out, she calls after you.

"love you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

you smile back at her. "i love you too."

the freeway is unusually busy for this hour. you glance at the dashboard clock, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. a stand-still on the five, you think, noting the stretch of brake lights ahead. it's frustrating, but you're used to it. you're always patient in traffic.

as you inch forward, the hum of the radio fills the car. your mind drifts—thinking about billie, about how peaceful she looked this morning, about the way she always makes you feel like you belong.

and then it happens.

a loud screech of tires, the jolt of impact, the sharp twist of metal. the world spins violently, throwing you forward, and then back, the seatbelt digging into your chest. there's a blinding pain, a sharp, cold silence.

when you open your eyes, the sky looks the same, but everything else is wrong. you're slumped in the seat, glass scattered across your lap. blood trickles down your forehead, warm and sticky. you try to move, but everything feels heavy, like the weight of the world has settled on your chest.

in the chaos, your phone is in your hand. you don't even remember reaching for it, but your thumb moves instinctively, searching for billie's name.

the call connects, and you try to speak, but your voice is shaky, barely audible. "billie..."

billie's phone buzzes against the nightstand, the screen lighting up with your name. she's still in bed, scrolling idly through her texts, when the call comes in. her heart lifts for a moment—maybe you forgot something and turned around to come back.

"hey, babe," she answers, but the faint sound on the other end makes her freeze.

"billie..." your voice is faint, trembling, barely a whisper.

her stomach drops, a cold wave of fear washing over her. "y/n? what's wrong? are you okay?"

"i..." you trail off, and she can hear the faint sound of sirens in the background. her mind races, piecing together the disjointed fragments of your voice.

"where are you?" she demands, throwing the covers off and scrambling to find her shoes. "what happened?"

there's no response, just a muffled sound, and then the line goes dead.

the drive to the hospital feels endless. billie's heart pounds in her chest, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. she doesn't even remember running to the car, doesn't remember how she got here. the image of you, hurt and alone, plays on a loop in her mind.

when she finally arrives, she's out of the car before it's even in park, running through the doors and straight to the front desk.

"i'm looking for y/n," she says breathlessly, her voice shaking. "car accident. they—they called an ambulance, i think."

the nurse's calm demeanor does nothing to ease the panic clawing at her throat. billie is directed to the emergency room, where she finds herself pacing the sterile hallway, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air.

when a doctor finally approaches, she's on him in an instant. "where is she? is she okay?"

"she's stable," he says, his voice reassuring but measured. "she's awake, but she's shaken up. a mild concussion, some bruising, but she's lucky. it could've been much worse."

billie barely hears the rest. relief floods through her as she's led into the room where you're lying.

you're propped up on the hospital bed, your face pale but calm. the sight of you there—fragile but alive—makes billie's chest tighten. she doesn't even notice the tears streaming down her face as she rushes to your side.

"hey," she says softly, her voice trembling.

you look at her, a faint smile on your lips despite the exhaustion in your eyes. "hey."

she takes your hand, holding it tightly as if she's afraid to let go. "you scared the hell out of me," she whispers. "don't ever do that again."

"i didn't exactly plan it," you joke weakly, but your voice cracks, and suddenly, the weight of everything hits you. "i was so scared, billie."

"i know," she says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "i was too."

you're quiet for a moment, the beeping of the heart monitor the only sound in the room. billie leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"you're okay," she murmurs. "that's all that matters."

later, when the room is quiet and the adrenaline has faded, billie sits in the chair beside your bed, watching you sleep. the steady rise and fall of your chest is a comfort she can't put into words.

her mind drifts to what-ifs, to all the ways this could've ended differently. what if it happened on a bridge, or with kids in the car? you two have been taking about adopting a kid. what if you'd been alone, with no one to find you? the thoughts are suffocating, but then she looks at you, and all she can think is: you're alive.

she brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek, her heart aching with love and relief. "i love you," she whispers, even though you can't hear her. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

as the night stretches on, billie stays by your side, her hand in yours, refusing to leave. you're alive, and that's all that matters.