clouded ~ billie eilish

chapter 8 ~ medicine

hi lovebugs!

happy hallows eve! hope u find some way to celebrate n get spooky! here's an update for you, i really am not sure if i like this chapter yet so bear with me. it might get re uploaded soon.

as always pls vote n leave me ur lovely comments!! i always look forward to ur thoughts.

with love, -V

TW: minor smut (oop)

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wednesday, september 20th

4:42 pm

One weird thing about being happy- time goes by much, much faster.

I usually revel in the long hours of waiting tables, it's the only distraction from my existential woes that I can pass as being productive. Plus, I pull some mean tips. Straight dudes must find my work clothes positively tantalizing, what can I say?

It's only been a few days, but I've noticed some dangerously delightful changes in myself since Billie started coming around. I'm getting all too comfortable around her and the way she makes me feel. It's risky to feel this sort of happiness so quickly, but I don't think I have a choice in the matter. My brain is screaming for me to slow down and find what must be wrong with this perfect picture, but I'm being pulled towards this girl by an unstoppable force. Every little thing she does has me oddly enthralled and it's only the beginning, I feel like a child getting all wrapped up in some wildly unrealistic daydream that I can't break, but how could I? 

I used to pick up extra shifts just to have something to do, now I count down the minutes until my break just so I can text her. Hell, yesterday she went out of her way to walk by the front window during the dinner shift just to wave at me. It made my whole day, Billie with her blue raspberry hair pulled into a bun and that dopey smile on-

"Chase."

My daydreaming is interrupted by Claire, my manager, and I whip around to face her as she checks over the schedule.

"We're gonna have a slow night tonight, you can clock out early. Miranda will work the dinner shift."

My heart leaps. I thank Claire and slide my apron and notepad into their place under the counter, stopping by the dish pit to say goodnight to Emilio.

"Lucky bitch," he rolls his eyes, "text ya when I get out."

"Sounds good baby!" I coo and wave over my shoulder.

On the way home I check my phone: seven texts from Billie and a missed call from my dad. Ugh. I decide to focus on the good news first, opening Billie's messages.

billie

4:12hi i hope work is good and ur getting phat tip$

4:13 (i'd give you a phat tip) ;)

4:16(i miss you, can you tell?)

4:42 i'm boooooooored

4:50 as FUUUUUUUUUCK

4:51why u gotta work its not fair

4:52maybe i'll come in for dinner. not hungry tho. just wanna eat the waitress tbfh.

Her messages make me giddy and I laugh as I walk along the road. I could get used to this.

I decide to bite the bullet and call my dad back. We haven't spoken in a few weeks which is nothing unusual. He's a very smart man, well-rounded and professional, and his intelligence (and overbearing nature towards his daughter) tends to make me want to curl up and soak in my failures. He means well, I know he does, but sometimes our differences glare much brighter than our similarities.