misery || b.e

alone

"hi."

billie's voice was soft, barely audible over the hum of the gala around them, but to y/n, it was deafening. that single word carried more weight than any grand speech ever could. it hung in the air between them, fragile and trembling with meaning, breaking the stillness and yet deepening it all at once.

y/n's breath hitched, her mind scrambling to process the reality of the moment. she spoke. she's here, standing right in front of me, speaking to me.

her throat tightened, the simplicity of the word cutting through her like glass. she had heard billie's voice countless times before, in interviews, in music, in laughter, in whispered words late at night. but this — this felt different. it was personal, raw, and it cracked something open inside her that she had fought so hard to keep closed.

y/n blinked, struggling to find her footing, her pulse racing so loudly she was sure billie could hear it. her lips parted to respond, but the words caught in her throat, tangled with the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

billie was looking at her, her green eyes steady but soft, filled with something y/n couldn't quite decipher. there was no anger there, no resentment — just a quiet intensity, an openness that made it impossible to look away.

y/n swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet billie's gaze even as her instincts screamed at her to retreat. she couldn't let herself fall apart now, not here, not in front of billie.

"hi," y/n finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. it felt like a monumental effort to get the word out, and even as it left her lips, she hated how small and uncertain it sounded.

her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, a nervous habit she couldn't suppress. she tried to maintain her composure, to keep her expression neutral, but her eyes betrayed her. they lingered on billie's face, tracing every familiar detail like she was trying to memorize her all over again.

for a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them stretching thin and taut. y/n's heart pounded painfully, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts she couldn't articulate.

she wanted to say so much — to ask how billie was, to apologize, to explain everything she had never been able to put into words. but the weight of the moment, the sheer magnitude of seeing billie again, made it impossible to speak.

y/n glanced down at her hands for a brief second, as if searching for an anchor, before forcing herself to look back up. billie was still watching her, and there was something in her expression that made y/n's chest ache.

"i didn't expect to see you here," y/n said finally, her voice quieter than she intended. it was an honest statement, though it felt woefully inadequate.

billie tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching in what could have been the ghost of a smile. "yeah... me neither."

the words were simple, but the weight behind them was anything but.

y/n's stomach twisted, the space between them charged with so much history, so much that had been left unsaid. her mind replayed every moment they had shared, every mistake she had made, every time she had let her career take precedence when she should have been by billie's side.

and yet, here they were. facing each other. speaking.

y/n's hands clenched at her sides as she tried to steady herself, to keep her emotions from spilling over. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't ignore the ache in her chest, the longing that had never truly gone away.

the air between them seemed to grow heavier, laden with emotions neither of them dared to name. y/n's pulse thrummed in her ears as she tried to steady herself, tried to focus on anything but the way billie was looking at her. it was the kind of gaze that made her feel both exposed and comforted, as though billie could see all the cracks she had tried to hide and didn't mind them at all.