CLOUDY \\\ B.E. imagines

everybody dies, continued

a/n
long time no see :) had a dream that inspired me to write this morning-- i hope its good. hopefully more to come soon.

-thestormycloud

--

"Sh, you're okay," you mutter softly, rubbing Billie's back. You feel the bumps of her spine beneath your finger tips, her tired muscles trembling as her body heaves. Her sweat-soaked shirt sticks to your hand when you pull it away, Billie weakly pushing herself to her feet.

"I got it," she spits harshly at you. You were only trying to help her stand but she's always been stubborn— no cancer diagnosis can change that.

You brush off the anger in her voice, the coldness in her eyes, and nod, smiling sweetly. "I know."

You watch as she wipes her face with her sleeve, stumbling over to the sink and gripping the counter. It's easy to see how much she's using the surface to remain upright, but you know better than to comment on it.

"Can you ask them to bring the chair out?" She breaks the silence a few minutes later. You nod, finally standing to your feet and walking out of the bathroom, but not before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

All eyes turn to you as you exit the bathroom— Billie's team, her band, the stage crew.

"She needs the chair," is all you say, and people begin to shuffle around, exiting the room and reentering as they prepare for Billie to come back on stage.

Despite being on 6 different chemotherapy drugs (2 by mouth, 2 intravenously, and 2 injected straight into her cerebrospinal fluid), Billie was determined to continue her plans to go on tour. She was diagnosed around 2 months before the first show, and the news of Billie Eilish having cancer rocked the pop culture world.

Fans and artists have gathered around her in support and it's been beautiful to witness as her significant other— your fridge is always full, house always clean, meals always made. But, those that are with Billie in her hardest moments are the core of her support. When she wakes up at 4 am with a headache bad enough to make her scream, you're the one who gives her scalp massages and holds her all night. When she had convulsions for the first time from Leukemic Meningitis, her mom is the one who kept everyone calm until it ended. When Billie sobbed as her hair was shaved off (it had really all fallen out long before), Finneas is the one who took to his hair next as Billie watched wide-eyed.

So, you both appreciate the additional support, but also know not to rely on anything but those closest to the both of you.

It took a lot of hard conversations before Billie's label even agreed to let her go on tour. After lots of rescheduling, all shows have been planned around her inpatient hospital appointments. This means that tour is a lot more spread out and will take a lot longer to finish, but it is what it is at this point. Even with the date accommodations, it is obviously still hard on Billie (physically and mentally). She is given a few days between inpatient hospital stays and shows, but even then it's not enough for her body to fully recover.

As Billie walks back out and sits on the chair now placed in the center of the stage of the sold-out arena, the crowd roars. Billie's smile is genuine as she takes the mic from the stage crew, watching as they run off before she turns back to the crowd.

"Sorry, guys, I'm not feeling too good today. I'm gonna sit for the rest of the show today, okay? I promise to still go hard for you."

And she did. She basically was jumping out of her seat, head banging to songs and rocking back and forth slowly to others. Soon the show was over and she waved, blowing kisses to the crowd before standing. Finneas was already beside her before she could stumble, wrapping an arm around her waist before walking her off stage.

You stood to the side as her on-tour medical crew laid her down on a portable stretcher, already checking vitals and asking her questions. Suddenly your eyes met pale grey ones (the blue disappeared a week into treatment) and you smiled sadly as ahe gestured for you to come over.

"How are you feeling, my love?" You bend down beside her as she looks back up at the ceiling, a breathing tube quickly being stuck up her nose.

"It hurts."

Her statement is simple and holds a thousand different meanings that you've come to understand. You used to always ask her what hurts specifically, but you know now that she simply means everything. Her body, her soul, her mind— it all hurts the same.

She's tired these days.

"I know. I know."

She nods, her face flush with a fever that won't go away.

"Let's take this off, yeah?" You tap the beanie still being worn on her head. "It's just the team in here. No one else."

Billie looks at you hesitantly before nodding. You smile, gently pulling the beanie off. You immediately bend down to kiss her bald head, making sure to avoid the red patches of rashes from radiation therapy.

"You're beautiful," you remind her, taking her hand.

Her body shudders, eyes squeezing shut. She's in pain— from what, you don't know, until a shakey, pale hand reaches up to rub her forehead. You already know she can't have any more painkillers (she's 250mg over the highest dose allowed already), but you ask for her anyways.

"Sorry, gotta wait at least 2 hours," is the response her head tour-doctor gives.

"It hurts," she says again. Her legs move up and down the stretcher aimlessly, the pain making her restless.

"I know."

The team finishes their evaluation, giving her the all clear. There's not much anyone can do to alleviate the suffering of someone with a terminal diagnosis.

Billie lays there for a few more minutes before forcing herself up, a groan you know she didn't want anyone to hear escaping her lips.

"Don't," is all she says when Maggie tries to help her. You've all silently agreed to not fight Billie on her independence or take offense when her words are sharp.

She's dying. Who cares if she yells at us from time to time? I'd be mad too. Expecting to die before her 24th birthday isn't exactly how she wanted her life to go.

"Addy."

Your head shoots up, immediately attentive to her every movement. "Yes, baby?"

She walks towards you slowly before wrapping her arms around your waist, leaning against you in a way that hides the fact that you're doing all the work to keep her standing.

"It hurts. It hurts so bad."

You nod, wrapping your own arms around her.

"I know."

--

1160 words