Different From The Rest

After breakfast, the two of you stayed in bed for a while—Billie scrolling through her phone, you half-dozing with your plate empty and your mug cradled in your good hand. The morning moved slowly, without rush, like time had decided to be kind just for today.

Eventually, Billie stretched out beside you, curling onto her side to face you. "You feeling okay?" she asked, her voice soft.

You nodded, eyes still a little heavy. "Yeah. It's sore, but... manageable."

She smiled at that, her fingers brushing the back of your hand absentmindedly. "Good. I was thinking maybe later we could just chill on the couch. Watch something dumb. I'll carry you there myself if I have to."

You laughed. "That sounds like a threat."

Before she could reply, she shifted a little closer to kiss your cheek—just a small, sweet moment—but in doing so, her hand accidentally brushed your injured arm.

The sharp jolt of pain hit you instantly.

You winced hard, breath catching in your throat. "Shit—!"

Billie froze, her face immediately dropping. "Oh my god—oh my god, I'm so sorry."

You were already trying to breathe through it, your hand gripping the blanket. "It's okay, I'm okay—just... give me a sec."

Billie sat up straight, her eyes wide with guilt, hands hovering like she wanted to help but didn't know how. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

You reached for her hand with your uninjured one, squeezing it gently. "Hey. It's alright. You didn't do it on purpose."

Still, her face was twisted with worry, eyes darting over you like she could somehow fix it just by looking hard enough.

"I feel like the worst girlfriend in the world," she muttered.

You gave her a tired smile. "Billie. You're literally the best part of today. Don't let one mistake cancel that out."

She exhaled slowly, her shoulders lowering just a little. "Okay. But I'm still gonna carry you to the couch like a princess now."

You smirked. "Fine. Just don't drop me."

"I wouldn't dare."

She leaned in again, slower this time, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I'll grab your meds and a heating pad. And more tea. And maybe I'll bring the whole kitchen while I'm at it."

"See? Best girlfriend," you said again, eyes closing for a moment as the pain dulled slightly.

Billie stood up, muttering as she headed out, "I better be."

And somehow, even through the pain, you were already smiling again.

Billie returned a few minutes later, carefully balancing a tray with your tea, meds, a heating pad, and—true to her word—a small plate of cookies she absolutely didn't need to bring but did anyway. She set everything down on the bedside table before moving to your side.

"Alright, my turn to be strong," she whispered dramatically, tucking one arm under your legs and the other around your back, mindful of your sling.

You clung to her like dead weight, laughing a little through the ache. "You know I can walk, right?"

"Not when I'm making up for almost dislocating your shoulder twice," she said, her brow furrowed with a mix of guilt and determination.

She carried you to the living room with impressive gentleness, lowering you onto the couch like you were made of glass. Pillows were already arranged. The blanket was already fluffed. She even had your favorite hoodie waiting for you.

As you settled in, Billie got you set up with the heating pad and made sure your tea was within reach. She sat next to you and turned on something light—some goofy sitcom you both liked but never took too seriously.

You leaned into her slowly, resting your head against her shoulder. Her arm draped around you like second nature, and soon the rhythm of her breathing, the gentle warmth of the pad, and the lulling sounds of the show began to pull you into sleep.

Your body relaxed against hers, and your breathing evened out.

Billie looked down and realized you'd drifted off.

She stayed still for a long moment, her fingers softly tracing patterns against your arm. The kind of touch that wasn't meant to wake you—just to hold you there, in that moment.

She smiled faintly, almost sadly.

"I really like you," she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the TV.

Her gaze lingered on your face, eyes scanning the peaceful expression you wore in sleep. "I don't think you know how much. Like... I feel like I've known you longer than I have. Or maybe I just wish I had."

She let out a quiet breath, brushing your hair back gently. "You make me feel calm. Like I'm not messing everything up for once."

Billie leaned her head against yours.

"I hope this never goes away."

She didn't know you'd heard her. Not all of it—but enough.

And you didn't move. Didn't speak. You just held onto the quiet, and let the safety of her words carry you deeper into sleep