what you can't have (b.e.)

deep end

A/n: yo ik I've said this before but this is like my fav chapter I've written so far woah
inspo: deep end, hapi & Cellar Door

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Blue skies look the same through your eyes, you like the thoughts that give you the butterflies.

Mila's POV:

Billie drapes a blanket over my shoulder and I hold onto my end loosely with my fingers, my other hand resting in the space between our legs. We sit in her backyard, underneath the trapeze bars that tower above the roof of her house, looking from underneath they seem to scrape the sky. Aerial silks hang down from the top and wave in the light wind, every once in a while brushing against our backs.

It feels so peaceful with the white lights filling up the space surrounding us and the sky turns from blue to purple in front of our eyes. We haven't really talked since a few hours ago, afraid if either of us say anything my exposed secrets will hang over our heads and turn everything uncomfortable. She showed me her new song, and it filled the silence when we tossed around names, until she settled for 'copycat.'

"Can we just talk about it, please?" Billie turns my attention away from my thoughts. Words get lodged in my throat and I look straight up so I don't have to see the pain flashing in her eyes mixed with my contorted reflection in them.

"I don't know what to do, I don't know how I can help you..." Billie drifts off, tilting her head up so we stare at the same sky instead of each other. Her hand slowly slips close enough to mine, asking for permission to hold it, as if she isn't sure if this is something we should do. I don't know if it's something we should do either, but it's something I can't deny that I want to do. When I don't pull away, her fingers slip between mine and I squeeze her hand to reassure her.

"How can I help you?" her voice cracks like spaces in between the sidewalk. I search through my brain for an answer, but none of them would be truthful or anything I'd want. I settle for honesty, even though it'll hurt, better to rip off the bandaid in one clean swipe.

"I don't want help, Billie," I whisper, letting my head drop, and a gust of wind pushes hair over my eyes. She leans across me to tuck it back behind my ear, pausing for a half of a second in front of my face. It's one of those moments where if I met her eyes, she'd kiss me, but I look anywhere except there. Billie goes back to her previous position, only closer to me this time.

She doesn't have to say what she's thinking because I already know. She doesn't want to do nothing but can't help me if I refuse to accept it. If she pushes too hard, we might break. If she turns a blind eye, it'll kill her inside. I wish I could've hid it better to spare her the trapped feeling, so I'd be the only one stuck in this hell.

"So you haven't thought about recovering?" Billie's voice trembles on the verge of tears. I squeeze her hand harder until her breathing slows down a bit.

"I have but... promise you won't think I'm crazy?" I hesitate, looking to her. My heart skips a beat when she looks back at me so intently, and bobs her head up and down. I sigh and try to continue.

"To you, the problem is that I'm not eating, and the solution is to just do it. To me, the problem is the way I look, and the solution is not eating. The hardest part about recovering is that I don't really think I need to, because my head tells me what I'm doing is right," I explain, taking a glance over at Billie. Her lips flip upside down into a frown, and her eyes concentrate on our linked hands.

"But does it really feel right?"

"I don't know, like... I know it's bad, I guess, but it feels like the only option. I can't imagine anything else," I confess, and bury my face in her shoulder, feeling her arms instantly wrap me up and hold on tight, like if she loosens her grip, I'll slip away.