billie eilish one shots

casual kisser

the photo strip was still in your hands when you walked into the living room. you turned it over in your fingers, the worn edges fraying like the memories it carried. four pictures, four moments frozen in time—both of you laughing in the first, her kissing your cheek in the second, your faces smooshed together in a silly grimace in the third, and in the last, her lips just brushing yours, your smiles bleeding into each other.

it used to live in your favorite book as a makeshift bookmark, tucked safely between chapters. now, it felt like a relic of a story you couldn't finish, its place taken by a bookmark you hadn't touched in months.

you sighed, slipping the strip back into the drawer, right next to your socks. you couldn't bring yourself to throw it away.

you didn't see it coming. how could you? billie had always been so good at delivering her lines with a sincerity that made you believe every single one.

she'd told you she loved you on her couch one night, her green eyes soft and steady, her voice low and trembling as though the words were too big to contain.

you'd kissed her, feeling every syllable of her confession echo in the spaces between your lips.

"i'm not a casual kisser," you'd said against her mouth, your voice thick with the weight of truth.

"i know," she'd whispered back, her hands holding you like a promise. "and i'm not going anywhere."

but somewhere along the line, her promises unraveled.

you stared at the text on your phone.

"we need to talk. i think we're moving too fast."

that had been it. no explanation, no face-to-face conversation. just a few typed-out words that shattered everything you thought you had.

the days that followed were a blur of heartache and confusion. you kept replaying every moment in your head, searching for the signs you'd missed. was it something you said? something you did?

"i thought you loved me," you whispered into the empty apartment, your voice cracking on the words.

you'd known billie was an actress when you met her. it was one of the things that drew you to her—the way she could slip into any role, embodying emotions that felt so real you forgot they weren't hers.

but now, the thought twisted in your gut. had she been acting the whole time? had her i love yous and late-night whispers been just another performance?

the idea haunted you, but it didn't stop you from returning to the places that reminded you of her. her apartment complex. the coffee shop where you'd shared your first date. the stretch of beach where she'd first held your hand.

you told yourself you were just passing by, but deep down, you knew the truth. you were returning to the scene of the crash, hoping to piece together the wreckage.

the next time you saw her was at a mutual friend's party. she was on the other side of the room, laughing with someone you didn't recognize. she looked radiant, as though the end of your relationship hadn't left a mark on her.

it stung, watching her like that. you downed your drink and tried to focus on the conversation in front of you, but your eyes kept drifting back to her.

at one point, she caught your gaze. her smile faltered, and for a moment, you thought she might come over. but she didn't.

instead, you ended up outside, the cool night air biting at your skin as you stared up at the stars.

"hey," a familiar voice said behind you.

you turned, and there she was. billie.

"i didn't think you'd be here," she said, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket.

"yeah, well," you muttered, shrugging. "neither did i."

she stepped closer, her eyes searching yours. "i'm sorry," she said softly. "for how things ended. you deserved better than a text."

"why did you do it?" you asked, your voice breaking. "why say you loved me if you didn't mean it?"

her face fell, guilt shadowing her features. "i did mean it. i just..." she paused, struggling for words. "i got scared. things were getting serious, and i wasn't ready. i thought ending it was the right thing to do."

"but you said you'd love me until the bitter end," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. "you didn't lie. the end was bitter."

billie reached for your hand, but you pulled away. "i'm sorry," she said again, her voice thick with regret.

"sorry doesn't fix this," you said, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to fall. "i'm not a casual kisser, billie. and i'm not a casual lover, either. you broke my heart."

she nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "i know. and i hate myself for it."

when you got home that night, you pulled the photo strip out of the drawer again. for a moment, you considered tearing it up, erasing the evidence of what you'd shared.

but then you stopped.

the memories were yours, for better or worse. she might have played the part of the perfect girlfriend, but for a while, it had felt real. and maybe, in some way, it had been.

you tucked the photo strip back into the drawer, closing it softly. you weren't ready to let go completely, but you knew that someday, you would be.

and when that day came, you'd be ready to start a new story—one where the love was as real as the heartbreak you were leaving behind.

a/n: inspired by 'casual kisser' by mckenna grace