Her gaze drifted away, settling somewhere on the sheets as if the answer to her thoughts might be hidden in the crumpled folds. I could feel the weight of something pressing down on her, and I knew she was holding back.
I reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face the same way she'd done for me. "What's going on, Billie?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then she closed them, her teeth catching her bottom lip in hesitation. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. Finally, her eyes met mine, wide and brimming with a storm of emotions. "It's just...I'm scared."
"Scared of what?" I pressed gently, my thumb stroking the back of her hand in slow, steady circles.
Her voice wavered, barely holding together. "Of this. Of feeling this...happy. It's like—it doesn't feel real. And when it does, it just feels like a countdown until it's gone." A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. "I've been stuck in this dark place for so long that feeling happy doesn't even feel real. Like, my brain doesn't trust it. Every time I start to feel okay, there's this voice that's like, 'Don't get comfortable. It's not gonna stick around.'"
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "I don't know how to stop that voice," she admitted, her tone breaking as a single tear slid down her cheek.
I couldn't just sit there. I shifted closer, pulling her into my arms, my hands finding the small of her back as I held her tight. I buried my face into her hair, inhaling her scent—something soft and comforting, warm vanilla . "Billie," I murmured against her ear, "You don't have to try to stop the voice all at once. You've been through so much, and it's okay to still be fighting. But you're not fighting alone anymore."
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes glassy and her bottom lip trembling. "What if I can't keep this up? What if I ruin it?"
"You won't," I said firmly, cupping her face in my hands. My thumbs wiped away the tears trailing down her cheeks. "You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to know all the answers. I'm here, Billie. With you. And I'm not going anywhere. Even on the days you feel like you can't fight it, I'll be here to hold you."
Another tear fell at that, but this time there was something different in her expression—a flicker of hope, like a small crack of sunlight breaking through a clouded sky. She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes as if my words were something she could soak in.
I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if I could somehow transfer every ounce of my belief in her through that one tender moment. When I pulled back, her hand found mine again, her fingers tangling with mine like she needed the connection to stay grounded.
"I don't deserve you," she whispered.
"Don't say that," I said, shaking my head. "You deserve everything good, Billie. You deserve love. You deserve joy. You deserve to feel safe and wanted. And I'm going to remind you of that every single day if I have to."
She let out a shaky laugh, a mix of a sob and something lighter, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "How did I get so lucky with you?"
I smiled, leaning in to kiss her nose, then her cheek, before finally brushing my lips against hers in a way that felt more like a promise than anything else. "Maybe," I murmured, "we're both lucky."
Her hands slid up to my shoulders, her touch more sure now, and she nodded as if my words were starting to sink in. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw but sincere.
"For what?" I asked, tilting my head.
"For making me feel...worth it," she said, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile.
I smiled back, brushing a thumb along her jawline. "You've always been worth it."
Come on," I said, standing up and holding out my hand to her.
Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head, her voice still soft but curious. "What are we doing?"
I grinned, tugging her gently to her feet. "First, we're going to fix this disaster of a bed. Then, we're grabbing some snacks, and after that, I'm going to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. Deal?"
Billie blinked at me for a moment, like she wasn't sure if I was serious, before a smile broke across her face—small at first but growing. She let out a real laugh, warm and full, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. "Deal," she said, her hand squeezing mine.
We got to work on the bed, stripping off the damp, crumpled sheets and tossing them into a pile on the floor. "I think your bed might have fought in a war," I joked as I fluffed one of the pillows, pretending to inspect it for battle scars.
Billie snorted, grabbing the corner of the comforter and helping me wrestle it off.
Once the bed was bare, she opened her closet and pulled out a fresh set of soft gray sheets. "These good?" she asked, holding them up.
"Perfect," I said. We worked together to spread the sheets over the mattress, tucking them neatly into the corners. There was something surprisingly satisfying about the process—like we were building something together, even if it was just a freshly made bed.
As we tossed on a matching duvet and arranged the pillows, Billie glanced at me and grinned. "You're kind of a perfectionist, huh?"
"Only with important things," I teased, giving one of the pillows an extra fluff. "Like your bed. You deserve premium coziness."
Once the bed was done, Billie rummaged through her dresser and pulled out two matching sweatshirts and a pair of cozy pants. She held them up, one brow raised. "Matching pajamas? Yes or no?"
I smirked, taking the sweatshirt from her. "Absolutely yes."
We changed into the matching outfits—hers in a slightly oversized fit, mine fitting snug—and stood in front of the mirror for a second, admiring our twinning. Billie tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips as she studied our reflection.
She didn't say anything at first, just pulled out her phone and opened the camera. "Stay right there," she said softly, her voice warm and a little playful.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my tone teasing but curious.
She met my eyes in the mirror, her smile growing. "We look too good not to capture this," she said simply.
Before I could respond, she slipped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her side. The gesture felt natural, her touch grounding, as if we'd done this a hundred times before. I leaned into her instinctively, letting my head rest gently against hers, crossing one foot over the other to add a casual, relaxed vibe.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, but she paused for a moment. "Ready?" she murmured.
I nodded, and the soft click of the photo being taken filled the quiet room. She stared at the image for a moment, her expression softening as she studied it. Without a word, she hit "post" and tucked her phone back into her pocket.
"You posted it?" I asked, my voice low but surprised.
She turned to face me fully, her gaze locking with mine. "Yeah," she said softly. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if she was memorizing the way I looked right then.
She reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "You look so... beautiful," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
I felt a warmth spread through me, something so real and overwhelming I didn't even know how to respond. Instead, I just smiled, leaning in and resting my forehead lightly against hers.
For a moment, we stood like that, the world outside completely forgotten. Her hand slipped down, intertwining with mine, her fingers warm and steady.
"Alright," she said finally, breaking the silence but not the intimacy of the moment. "Now we can go get snacks."
I laughed softly, still feeling the weight of her gaze as we turned toward the door. The picture might've only been for her story, but something about it felt like it held more than just an image—it was a piece of us.
We headed downstairs to her kitchen, the dim light from above the stove casting a warm glow across the room. Billie flipped on the main light, and suddenly the space felt alive, cozy in a way that mirrored how I felt just being with her. She opened one of the cabinets, her eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on a dusty box of cookie mix.
"Do you know how long this has been sitting here?" she asked, her laughter soft but full of warmth as she held it up.
I tilted my head, smirking. "Long enough to be fate. We're making them."
"Fate, huh?" she said, her lips twitching into a small smile.
"Absolutely," I teased, stepping closer to grab the box from her hands. Our fingers brushed, and for a second, the air between us felt heavier, charged in a way that made my heart race.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she just looked at me, the corners of her mouth still curled upward. "Alright, let's do it."
I grabbed a mixing bowl from the cabinet while she hunted down the ingredients we needed, moving around the kitchen in this effortless rhythm that made it feel like we'd been doing this for years. Every once in a while, she'd glance over her shoulder at me, her eyes catching mine before she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on cracking an egg or measuring flour.
When the cookies were finally in the oven, she turned to me, leaning back against the counter with an almost shy smile. "While we wait, we need more snacks. This kitchen is basically a goldmine."
We started raiding the pantry and fridge together, laughing as we uncovered all kinds of treasures—Oreos, Takis, popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels. I handed her a bag of gummy bears, and she tossed it onto the growing pile on the counter.
"This is kind of over-the-top," I joked, grinning as I added a bag of chips to the mix.
"Exactly how it should be," she replied, her voice playful but soft.
Once the cookies were done, she pulled them out of the oven, the sweet smell filling the room and wrapping around us like a warm hug. I carefully stacked them onto a plate, sneaking one while it was still too hot and yelping as it burned my tongue. Billie laughed, her head tilting back as the sound spilled out of her, light and beautiful.
"You're hopeless," she said, shaking her head fondly as she handed me a glass of milk to cool down.
"And you love it," I shot back, earning another laugh as she grabbed a tray and began piling on our snack haul.
We carried everything upstairs, Billie balancing the tray in her hands while I held the plate of warm cookies. By the time we reached her room, the fresh, clean scent of the newly made bed greeted us, and everything about the moment felt perfect, like a scene out of a story only the two of us could share.
She set the tray down on the bed, and we climbed in, settling against the soft, crisp sheets. The warmth of the cookies was still radiating from the plate, and Billie tucked her legs under the blanket, nudging my knee with hers as she reached for an Oreo. Billie grabbed the remote, glancing at me with a soft smile. "What do you wanna put on?" she asked.
I thought for a moment before grinning. "How about Coraline? We already did another stop-motion movie earlier—might as well keep the theme going." Billie's eyes lit up, and she tilted her head, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Coraline? Okay, I'm obsessed." She leaned back into the pillows, tucking her legs under the blanket as she started scrolling for it.
She glanced at me, her smile softening into something warmer. "And watching it with you? That makes it even better."
Billie grabbed an Oreo and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before turning to me. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment earlier," she said suddenly, her voice quiet.
I frowned, turning to face her fully. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I just—I didn't want to get all in my head and make things heavy. I didn't want to mess up...this. The way I feel with you." She paused, her eyes meeting mine. "It's like...being with you is the only time I feel like I'm not carrying everything by myself. And I don't want to lose that."
"You didn't mess up anything, Billie. You're allowed to feel however you feel, and you can talk to me about it. That's part of this...us."
I took her hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "I'm here, Billie. For all of it—the good, the bad, the messy. I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile, and she nodded, though a single tear slipped down her cheek. Billie caught it herself this time, brushing it away with the back of her hand before reaching for me, pulling me closer. She tucked me into her side, her arm wrapping securely around my waist, anchoring me against her like she couldn't let go.
"You're stuck with me," she said softly, her tone teasing but her eyes warm and serious.
I let out a quiet laugh, resting my head on her chest as I felt her fingers trace slow, absent-minded patterns on my back. Her touch was soothing, grounding, and I melted into her hold. Her other hand came up, brushing through my hair gently, almost absentmindedly, and I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the intimacy of it all.
We stayed like that for a while, the blanket draped over both of us, snacks scattered on the tray beside the bed, forgotten. The faint scent of fresh laundry mixed with the warmth of the cookies still lingering in the air, but none of it mattered as much as the steady rhythm of her breathing beneath me.
We talked quietly, voices low as the night deepened. She told me about her favorite childhood memories—ones she rarely shared—and I found myself opening up too, telling her things I'd never felt comfortable sharing with anyone else. She listened intently, her fingers still stroking my back, occasionally murmuring something soft and reassuring.
At some point, I felt myself start to drift, my eyelids growing heavy. Her voice was still soft in my ear as she spoke, but I could feel sleep pulling me under. She noticed, her voice trailing off as she tilted her head down to look at me.
"You're falling asleep on me," she murmured, a small smile in her voice.
"Mhm," I mumbled, my face pressing further into her chest, the sound of her heartbeat lulling me. "You're comfy."
She chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through her chest. "Guess I'm your pillow now," she teased, but there was something tender in her tone, something that made me feel even safer in her arms.
Her hand slid up to cup the back of my head, holding me close as she adjusted the blanket around us both. "Sleep, baby," she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against my forehead. "I've got you."
And she did. The steady beat of her heart, the warmth of her body, and the quiet strength of her presence wrapped around me completely. I let myself fully relax, my breathing syncing with hers as I drifted off.
Billie held me like that, her arms protective and sure, until she too finally let sleep take her. In her embrace, the world felt far away, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.