call out my name (billie eilish girl x girl)

hostage

A/N: srry this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to leave it like this because there's some shittt about to go down soon

inspo: hostage, billie eilish

It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted

Hannah's POV:

Every time I try and close my eyes to sleep, I reach for the empty space next to me, in her bed. That she should be in, with me. I check my phone for the millionth time, hoping for maybe a message but all I see is that it's 2 a.m. and I'm drowning in my thoughts. Thoughts and the things I wish I said and the things I wish I didn't.

I throw the covers off me and get up, pacing around in the dark because I can't sit still or sleep. I wish I would've just held Billie's hand when she offered it, ignoring the blood on her fingers. We're in this together but I made her feel alone in it all. I want to drag her back in here and force her to stay and listen even if I can't find the words. I want her to feel how I feel without having to put it into sentences that will never even scratch the surface of my pool of emotions. But it's too deep and she'd try to dive in, and I wouldn't be able to pull her out.

I walk towards the door, resting my hand over the handle. Something in me tells me to go, but I can't get past the part that screams stop. Sighing, I lean my back against the door, hitting my head as I toss it back with a thud. But I don't feel alone anymore; it's like the door is the only thing separating me and Billie, and I should just open it already.

I'm sorry

"Billie?" I whisper, hearing a faint apology through the walls, but the sound's coming from my head more than it is from the other side of the door. I wait a couple seconds for her to speak again, but hear nothing. Just to see if this is really my imagination or reality, I open the door a crack.

There's no one there.

Billie's POV:

"Billie?" Hannah's voice slips through the door, and I jolt back, taking my hand off the handle just as quickly as I put it there. I tip-toe back to the living room and dive onto the couch, scrambling for the blanket. I count my heartbeats as seconds but it's too fast for that and probably less than a minute later, I hear her walking towards me. I close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping when she stands over me, and she drops a pillow to the floor beside me and lays down on the ground.

I debate saying something but I have no idea what she expects so we stay like this for a while, until she cuts through the silence.

"I'm sorry too."

I smile against my pillow, my body still turned away from her. Soon I hear her breathing slow and I take a chance, shifting towards her. Hannah's eyes are closed and I recognize from her chest falling up and collapsing back down the way she sleeps, peaceful but also like she's dead. I don't know how wanted I am in this moment, but her presence is comforting enough, even if it's not meant to be that way.

Trying to stay quiet, I pull the blanket off my legs and slip it around my shoulders like a cape, and bend down to pick her up. She shifts a little and I hold my breath, and when I'm sure she's asleep, I carry her towards my room. Hannah sinks perfectly into my arms like they were crafted to match the shape of her.

Gently, I lay her down on the closest side of my bed, and climb across her to slip under the covers next to her. I can't handle the separation even if we're under the same roof; I need to be here like I promised I would be.

I turn to the side, facing her, and twirl a piece of her hair around my finger, then let it fall over her shoulder. Moving a little closer, I break through the space we shouldn't have created, and rest my head on her chest, loosely draping my arm around her waist. This feels right, and sleep finally starts to come back to me.

I don't know if I imagined it, but I swear I felt her hand tighten around mine midway through the night.

Just let me hold you, like a hostage