Void // Billie Eilish

Ten

*content warning: physical violence, blood, and depictions of a panic attack*
(and drugs but that's not new y'all been knew)
~
Alexis
~

"I think I'm gonna quit after this."

Noel looks up from what he was doing, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks at me.

"What? Why? Things are going so good!"

"Exactly, I should quit while I'm ahead," I say and sit down in the armchair across from him. "You know what happens if I get caught."

"Dude, no one cares if people sell weed anymore. It's a legal substance," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world and I roll my eyes.

Not quite how the law works, but go off.

"Ecstasy isn't," I argue and he just stands up from the couch with a huff.

"We can talk about this later but we gotta hit up this party. We're gonna make bank tonight," he insists and I sigh quietly, not moving. "Oh come on! Just a few more batches. There's no way you got enough for tuition already anyway."

I sigh again because he's right. I started growing weed and selling it along with E with Noel to make money for tuition when I transfer, because finding a decent job with my record and baggage was proving to be difficult. The only reason I got the job at the school was because it started off as court-mandated community service, and they eventually started paying me a tiny bit when I grew on them. Even if I did find a tolerable job, I still wouldn't be able to work enough hours to save up the kind of money I need, especially while also going to school full-time and paying LA rent. This way I make a lot of money without having to sacrifice much of my time, but of course there's the added risk of getting caught breaking my probation.

I know this is a pretty dumb thing to be doing, trust me I'm fairly self aware when it comes to this, but I'm desperate at this point. I've taken every precaution I can think of to make sure that what we're doing can't get easily traced back to me, and I trust that Noel will never rat me out.

Not even Darius knows I'm doing this again, and usually I tell him everything. He'd
probably drop me if he found out. So would Billie.

I reluctantly get up and follow Noel out the door, my stomach twisting with anxiety the way it always does when we do this. And the way it tends to do even if I don't have a reason.

"Don't let me get smashed tonight, I'm taking Billie out for breakfast tomorrow," I say and Noel chuckles.

"You're so whipped for her, dude."

"And what about it?" I ask a little defensively.

"I just think you were more fun before you saw her again and got all mushy and shit," he replies and I huff. "I mean you're still cool, dude, you're just...soft."

"I'm not soft, I'm just a little whipped for one person. There's a difference," I grumble and lean against the brick wall of the building while he calls for an Uber.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself," he says with a smirk and I roll my eyes yet again.

I know it's childish, but I hate that he thinks I'm soft. It's just that, growing up the way I did, I had to make sure I presented myself as tough, or else I'd be an easy target for certain people around me. It was the same thing in jail, only so, so much scarier. I still feel that need to present myself a certain way, even though I've since moved to a slightly nicer neighborhood and haven't been behind bars for over a year now.