Beyond the lens - Billie Eilish

74 -

POV Billie

I'm going on stage in an hour. Finneas is next to me, going over the final details with me.

"So, at that point, you grab the camera, okay?"

I nod, pretending to listen, but in reality, my mind is elsewhere, completely absent.

Finneas eventually puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey Bil, you okay?"

No, I'm not okay. It's stupid to feel this way, but it's been three days now without any word from Ellie. Three days of my messages going unanswered. I've sent about ten, just asking if she's okay, if she's still coming to work on this concert. But nothing. Radio silence.

Did I do something wrong?

I lower my head, avoiding his gaze, and murmur, "Do you know if she's here? Any news from the photo team?"

Finneas hesitates, then shakes his head, visibly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Bil. She's not here."

At those words, I jump to my feet.

"Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me?"

I have no idea. But I can't help thinking it's my fault again, that once more, I've managed to push someone away.

Finneas gets up too.

"Billie, calm down. You didn't do anything wrong."

I raise my voice without meaning to. I know it's not his fault, but he's here, in front of me, and it all comes pouring out.

"How the hell would you know, Finn?"

He steps closer, ready to say something, but there's a knock at the door. A crew member pokes their head in.

"Finneas, we need you. Can you come?"

Finn looks at me, hesitating, his eyes full of concern.

"Not now, I—"

I cut him off sharply.

"Go."

He stares at me for a moment, then finally leaves, leaving me alone with myself.

I slump heavily onto the couch. Shark, asleep beside me, doesn't budge. I grab my phone out of reflex, looking for a notification from her. Nothing. So I reopen our conversation, rereading the last messages again, and let out a long sigh before murmuring, "Why?"

My eyes sting, tears threatening to fall. I think back to our time in London. She seemed happy. Everything had gone so well—or at least, it had felt that way to me. Even when we said goodbye, she'd promised to come back in good shape, said she couldn't wait to try out her new camera.

Was it all a lie? Did I imagine it all again? I can't believe it. She can't pretend I don't matter to her, or that she doesn't care.

I lower my head, burying my face in my hands, letting the tears flow freely. Some fall onto my lips, salty, bringing me back to that bitter sensation. I thought I'd left the old me behind, but in this moment, she's here, fully present, and I feel weak all over again, like a caged bird.

Maybe the old me is the real me.

No. Not again. Not this time.

I grab my phone and quickly dial Joan's number. He gave it to me in Portland, "just in case." I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and type a quick message :

"Dude, be straight with me. What's Ellie doing?"

I toss my phone onto the couch as if it's burning in my hands.

Finneas comes back into the room. He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but I cut him off, brushing past him without a word.

"It's fine, Finn. Let's go."

I grab the mic someone hands me, heading toward the backstage area where the crew helps me with the wires and adjusts all the gear. I can feel Finn's gaze on me, but I ignore it. Thousands of people are waiting for me. They've paid to see me, and my heartache isn't going to ruin this for them.

I refuse to ruin this for them.

The crowd roars. The vibrations ripple through me, up from the floor, through my skin. I bounce slightly on the balls of my feet, trying to psych myself up, then step onto the platform. The mechanism whirs into motion.

I'm propelled onto the stage.

In front of me, a sea of people, phone flashes blinding me almost immediately. My heart pounds in my chest. My head stays down. Slowly, I bring the mic to my lips.

And I start to sing.

In that exact moment, I let everything go.

I forget it all.

I forget Ellie.