misery || b.e

choosing

"thank you for coming."

billie's voice was quiet, careful, like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to say it. like she wasn't sure if y/n wanted to hear it.

y/n sat beside her on the couch, hands clasped loosely in her lap, shoulders tense. this house— this home,was once hers too. she had lived in every inch of it, filled it with laughter and arguments and whispered confessions in the dark. and now? now it felt unfamiliar, like walking into a memory she wasn't ready to relive.

she exhaled through her nose, shifting slightly. "yeah," she murmured.

billie's fingers curled against the fabric of her sweats, gripping it like she was grounding herself. she looked nervous. hesitant. y/n tried not to focus on that, tried not to think about how rare it was for billie to look like this — like she was afraid she might say the wrong thing and shatter whatever fragile thing was left between them.

the silence stretched, thick with things neither of them had figured out how to say.

billie licked her lips, then spoke again. "i know it's... weird, being here."

y/n let out a breath of laughter, humorless but not unkind. "you could say that."

billie's lips twitched like she almost wanted to smile, but the weight of everything else kept it from forming. she looked down at her hands, exhaling before she spoke again.

"i wanted to talk. really talk. and i thought... here felt right." she glanced up, meeting y/n's gaze carefully. "but if you want to leave, if this is too much—"

"it's fine." the words left y/n's mouth before she fully processed them, but they weren't a lie. not entirely. it wasn't fine, not in the way billie probably hoped, but she could handle this. she could sit here, in the place where she had built a life with billie, and listen to whatever she had to say.

maybe she needed to.

billie studied her, like she was searching for something in her face. maybe permission. maybe forgiveness. y/n wasn't sure if she could give her either.

so instead, she just sighed, sinking back slightly against the couch. "so, let's talk."

billie swallowed, nodding once. "okay."

the air between them was charged, not with the heat of their almost-mistake in the bathroom, but with something heavier. something real.

and for the first time since this whole mess started, y/n let herself believe that maybe— just maybe, they could figure this out.

billie took in a deep, shaky breath before starting. "i want us to be completely honest with each other. no more hiding how we feel. no more pretending things don't hurt when they do."

y/n swallowed. she knew what billie meant, knew it wasn't just about the past few days. it was about everything. every wound they had let fester, every moment they had turned away when they should have reached for each other.

and she hated it — hated that billie was right. hated that she could still feel every sharp edge of their breakup like it had happened yesterday. hated that even after all the hurt, all the distance, she still wanted her.

her heart pounded as billie continued, picking at the loose thread on her hoodie like she was nervous. like she was bracing herself.

"i don't want to do what we did before. shutting things down. avoiding each other. letting everything build up until we don't even recognize what we are anymore."

the words sliced through y/n. because she had done that. she had let the space between them grow, had convinced herself it was easier that way. that maybe, if she buried her feelings deep enough, she could erase the way billie's absence had hollowed her out.