Yearn For Agony // Billie Eilish

XVI

"Hey,"

I said with a smirk as I leaned against Billie's doorway.

She was sitting on her bed with a MacBook on her lap, her small fingers rounded perfectly on the keyboard.

I entered her room and pretended not to acknowledge the way my heart fluttered when she smiled back at me.

"I didn't think you were coming today," She admits, sliding over to the side so I could sit next to her.

The sun had set many hours ago and it was currently a quarter to 7 pm.

Despite what Billie may think, my late arrival was no accident. I had a plan.

"I have many fixations and you're one of them." I tell her simply before leaning over to look at her computer screen.

I did not want to see her reaction to my confession because I knew my sudden flare of confidence would diminish and I would fall nervous again.

"Is this your essay for English comp?" My eyes flit down to the number of pages she's written.

"Yeah," Her fingers continue to type.

"You were supposed to write five pages... You know that right?"

She hums.

"You wrote eight."

"I needed to get my point across." Is all she says.

With a sigh, I leaned my head on her shoulder. "I will never understand you."

A smirk tugs on her lips briefly and she replies, "One day."

We sit in silence for a while as she finishes up her essay. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft tappings of her keyboard and the light music playing in the background.

It wasn't unusual to hear music seeping under Billie's door or thumping through the walls. Whether it was alternative rock or r&b, music was always playing. Always.

This time was slightly different. As I listened intently, I realized the harmonic voice of the unnamed person, sounded familiar.

"Billie," I started.

She hummed, struggling to tear her eyes away from the screen as she finished her last sentence, solidifying it with a period.

"Is this you?"

"Is what me?"

"The song. Are you singing right now?"

She chewed on her bottom lip briefly before closing her laptop and shrugging.

A smile grew exponentially on my face.

"Don't play dumb, it's you isn't it?" I beamed.

Sighing, she finally confessed.

Blown away, I told her, "I bet you'd make it big time if you decided to commit to music. You're really good."

"I'm good at a lot of things— that's why I have a shit ton of hobbies. But I'd rather eat a shoelace than pursue a career in the music industry."

My eyebrows raised in shock at her harsh statement. I got a bit more comfortable in my position then asked her why.

"It just doesn't interest me. It sounds exhausting and it ruins everything. Especially relationships. I don't want that or any variation of it. Fame isn't for me."

Although she speaks nonchalantly, I get a sense that she's put some thought into this.

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