Yearn For Agony // Billie Eilish

XXXVI

It's the following Friday.

Also popularly known as, prom night.

Guess who isn't by my side?

I suppose the answer to that question is obvious; rhetorical even.

As much as I am disappointed, I'm not upset at Leilani or the situation.

She's bettering herself and that takes time.

Or in her words, "I still have some personal problems I need to work on."

As for me, I'm learning to let go of my past and embrace my future. In fact, I'm planning on visiting a local church to honor my mom and hopefully find some peace.

I don't know when, but soon.

In the meantime, I need to hold it together and not break down. Any unwanted circumstance could send me spiraling and I'd hate to enter the church with all of my anger directed towards God.

But it's hard to maintain your sanity when your life is like a sheet of glass. I'm so sensitive, a pebble could completely shatter my will to progress.

In this moment, I'm laying like a starfish, sprawled out on my bed, a phone to my ear.

"Billie, what are you wearing right now?" Leilani questions.

"Sorry to disappoint, but nothing sexy. When you get back, I'm buying the first maid outfit I see." I half-joke.

"That sounds like a sight for sore eyes, but that's not what I mean. Are you wearing a suit or a button-up? Anything like that?"

"No..."

"Billie." Her tone is flat.

"What?" I snort.

"So you're telling me you're not going to prom? It starts in like thirty minutes."

"No, why would I? You're not here."

"That shouldn't stop you from having fun, Bil."

"Doesn't matter, it won't be fun without you."

"So you'd rather sit here and talk to your girlfriend, imprisoned in an eating disorder institution than experience prom for the both of us?"

"Yup."

"Billie, I love you so much. You know that. But that has got to be the most depressing thing I've heard all day— and that says a lot, considering my situation."

"Baby, I really don't care to go."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Can you at least do it for me? I wanna hear all the crazy stories when I come home. I want all the details. And please, for the love of God, tell me what Fatima's date looks like. Because if it's Tyler--"

"Okay, okay," I chuckle lowly. "I'll go. Only for you."

I know she's smiling through the phone. "Thank you, my love."

With blushing cheeks, I ask her, "What should I wear?"

"Something hot, but not too hot. And you should probably hurry." She advises.

"Alright, bye angel."

"Goodbye Billie," She sing-songs.

After the phone call ends, I scramble to find something, anything to put on that's decent.

I do exactly as she says, hot, but not too hot. I add a few pieces of jewelry, fix up my hair then say a quick goodbye to my dad before hopping in my car.