Stolen Moments // Billie Eilish G!P

Bonus Chapter II

The sun had just begun its slow descent, painting the horizon with soft ribbons of color—pastel pinks melting into burnt orange, the light so gentle it looked like the sky itself was exhaling. A warm breeze stirred the trees, rustling their leaves in a lazy, rhythmic whisper.

Skye stood barefoot on the back porch, her fingers wrapped around a mug of now-lukewarm tea. She wasn't drinking it. Just holding it, letting the quiet seep into her chest like warmth into cold hands.

Their backyard stretched out beyond the wooden steps—a mixture of slightly overgrown grass, scattered solar lights, and the faint squeak of the wind chime Billie insisted on keeping despite Skye's repeated complaints that it was "haunted-sounding."

The house behind her was alive in the way only homes built with love could be. Through the screen door, she could hear faint clicking and clacking—Gio typing furiously, probably working on his AI project again. Sixteen years old, always inventing, always one step ahead of everyone. That boy had a mind like a supercomputer and a heart big enough to contain galaxies.

He had Skye’s eyes. Billie’s sarcasm. A perfect storm of brilliance and heart.

And somehow, impossibly, he was theirs.

The sliding glass door behind her let out a low groan as it opened.

“You’re cold,” came a familiar voice.

Billie stepped out and wrapped her hoodie around Skye’s shoulders before kissing the side of her head. The scent of her—warm skin, faint lemon shampoo, a hint of paint from the mural she’d been finishing earlier—wrapped around Skye like a second blanket.

Skye leaned into her, smiling softly. “I was just... thinking.”

Billie slid her arms around her from behind, resting her chin on Skye’s shoulder. “Dangerous.”

“Shut up,” Skye laughed, elbowing her lightly. “I was thinking how... quiet it is.”

“Mmm,” Billie hummed. “Gio hasn’t blown anything up in, like, three whole days. Which is either progress… or a trap.”

Their laughter was quiet, shared between them like a secret. It was the kind of laugh that had come back slowly over the years—tentative at first, now full and real.

Skye tilted her head back against Billie’s. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?”

“All the time,” Billie murmured.

Silence stretched again, but it wasn’t empty. It was rich, filled with everything unsaid but deeply felt. The weight of years. The joy of second chances.

But Billie’s arms around her had gone a little tense.

Skye noticed immediately.

She didn’t turn around—just spoke gently. “What is it?”

Billie hesitated, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of Skye’s borrowed hoodie. “I... went to the doctor this morning.”

Skye turned then, brows knitting. “Yeah?”

Billie nodded, eyes flicking away toward the fading light. “I didn’t tell you because... I didn’t know how to say it.”

Skye stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. “Billie. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

For a moment, Billie just looked at her. And then she reached into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a small, carefully folded piece of paper.

She handed it over without a word.

Skye unfolded it slowly—and everything else in the world disappeared.