NEEDY - B.E. IMAGINES

someone like you

pure angst and yearning sorry not sorry

-

The drive home from the party was quiet. Eerie in its way, rain pattering against the windows softly, as if it didn't want to bother.

You sat in the back, squished in between Billie and a member of her crew. You didn't know her name. You didn't care to find out, either.

The faint roar of the engine echoed in your ears as Billie's frustrated voice spilled into the dark, sharp and trembling as she fought with her boyfriend on the phone.

"I told you about it three weeks ago," she said, her tone clipped, controlled–but only barely.

"No, I'm not exaggerating. It's not just a party. It was important to me."

Another pause. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her bottom lip trembling just slightly before she spoke again.

"Do you even realize how humiliating it is when people ask where you are, and I have to make up an excuse?"

You didn't even bother listening to the rest of the conversation. You couldn't. The words were just static to you, fading in and around the edges of your focus.

Your eyes fixated themselves on her face. You didn't bother looking away; you didn't want to.

She looked perfect in the shifting light, each passing streetlight illuminating her face before it was met with darkness again. You could see the gold brushed across her face with every lamp, the faint glisten of tears in the corner of her eyes, the flush in her cheeks. She was heartbreak incarnate, and it was awful how beautiful she looked in the dead of night.

You knew she could feel you staring; your gaze gentle yet piercing.

She ended the call abruptly, Billie exhaling a sharp, shaky breath as she leaned forward and rested her forehead on the passenger seat in front of her. Her hands remained in her lap, phone gripped in one hand, the other balled into a fist, wrist ticking.

Her phone dropped into her lap, her hand now going to grip her wrist, trying to make it stop.

No one asked her if she was okay. You didn't, either. You knew she wouldn't want you to. Not in a car full of people, anyways.

Only when the car pulled into her driveway did she turn to you, for the first time all night.

"Can you come in with me?"

You replied before the question could fully register in your head.

"Yeah."

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the car door slamming behind you. She didn't bother waiting for you, feet already planted on the doormat as she fiddled with her keys, struggling to open the door like it was a stranger's house.

Warmth and the sweet, unmistakable scent of her welcomed you as you stepped inside.

She dropped her purse, letting it fall to the floor like it was nothing. Her shoes and coat followed, left behind without a second glance as she walked to the couch, footsteps light against the hardwood. She sunk down onto the cushions, folding herself in half as she hunched over, elbows resting on her knees

She sat there for a second, staring down at the floor. You heard her breathing–shallow, uneven. She brought both hands to her face, pressing her palms hard over her eyes like she was trying to physically hold it together.

The sound that escaped her next wasn't just a cry–it was a small, broken gasp, like the air's been knocked out of her.

She leaned forward, shoulders curling in, letting the sobs rip through her throat. They were quiet at first, almost like she was trying to stifle them, but they broke through, raw and jagged.