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

i love you (part two)

A/N: i'm going to update faster i'm speaking it into existence. also rd dramatic lil bitch for more sappy billie fanfiction

Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryna make me laugh, and nothing has to change today...

Billie's POV:

"Billie, last chance. Staying or leaving?" my mom's voice interrupts my dead silence.

I've been laying on the floor of my room next to a packed suitcase, heart hammering more and more with every minute Mila doesn't climb back through the window. I want to jump out of it and run until I find her, drag her back and force her to get on the plane with me. But, more than that, I want her to want me so bad that I wouldn't have to wonder if she does in the first place.

I have to face the facts: she's not here. Whether that's my fault or hers or both of ours, doesn't really mean anything now. Leaving is what I have to do, no matter what, I just wish just this once there didn't have to be any exceptions.

"Leaving," I whisper, sitting on top of my suitcase to pack it down enough to zip it up. I pull up the handle and the wheels roll unevenly against the floor as I head to the door. I left the window open just a crack, in case she changes her mind or needs a place to stay. Turning around, I flick the light switch and the red collapses into darkness. I always joked about the lights being red to practice living in hell, but I don't need the lights to do that anymore. Mila leaving did that for me.

~

Mila's POV:

You didn't mean to say I love you...

A raindrop falls on my cheek and I pretend if I wipe it away quick enough, the weather will hold off a little longer. The cadence only grows faster and steadier, and I duck under the small shelter of a bus stop. Mascara runs down my face from tears and raindrops, the saltiness creeps into my mouth when my lips won't stop shaking.

Life is hell without Billie, I feel so out of place and disoriented. With her came everything I could only dream of having, and I threw that all away because depending on one person is risky and terrifying. You can't have love without vulnerability, and sincerity is scary.

Running away from her cast a spotlight on everything we kept hidden in the shadows, and it holds me back from turning around to catch her before she goes. How can I be with somebody if I feel like I'm not even a person without them?

If I poured out my heart to a professional, they'd tell me to find out who I am first and build that person up. But I have absolutely no resources, not even a room to call mine, not even a single place that feels safe. It hurts to just exist when the only way you can survive is if you ask for help, but asking for help turns you into a burden instead of a person.

I pull my knees closer into my chest, hair hanging in front of my face and dripping to the ground to supply more water to the expanding puddles. I tilt my head up and squint through the mist and street lights to tall buildings towering over me like a threat or a temptation. I wonder if anyone inside feels like this, I wonder if anyone's teetering on the edge of the rooftop. I wonder if that's where I'm supposed to be.

~

Billie's POV:

Up all night, on another red-eye, I wish we never learned to fly...

The flight attendant's voice crackles over the loudspeaker, after everyone's buckled in, apologizing about a delay for last minute inspections. I slide closer to the rectangular little window and breathe out deep enough to fog up the glass or plastic or whatever it's made of. I trace little patterns with my fingertip, writing out 'millie' and protecting it with a little heart to shield the letters. Like it'll keep us safe, even if we're apart.

Maybe it's the atmosphere, or the fears that arise before the plane charges down the runway, but something feels like it's about to crash and burn. And I thought something already did, me and Mila, so the feeling scares me. I can't imagine how things could get any worse than this.

I sigh loudly, feeling the stares of irritated passengers nearby directed at me. I hold myself back from flipping them off and lean my head back against the seat, uncomfortably small when I'm used to comfortably huge. My thoughts fall back into our fight and every little moment leading up to it, like life flashing before my eyes, except it's hard to remember anything before her.

I try to change the order of events, take out some parts, fill some new ones in--it doesn't matter. Eventually this would've came up, there's always a time where you have to ask: are you staying or leaving? And it just wasn't the answer I was expecting.

But I'm the one who's leaving, and I get it now. I get how she's feeling too late. There's still nothing I could do or say, the question is still gonna be there. We can't run from it, only run into more questions along the way, like: how much do you love me? How high would you jump for me?

We've still survived questions before this one: do you trust me, do you love me? I don't want this to be the ending. Planes are supposed to be about starting something new, and I don't want new, I want what I have.

Or more like, what I can't have.

But, what if I can?

What if it's not too late?

It's one of those moments where you have to make a decision and act on it right away. The plane could start moving and you're seatbelted into all the choices you wish you would've made sooner. I lunge over Finneas's legs and don't waste time with explanations, I just need to get off before it's too late.

I argue with the flight attendant and say it's an emergency, that if she doesn't move out of my way I'll open the emergency door and climb out that way. I feel someone behind me, and turn to see Finneas looking rejected but understanding.

"I'm sorry, I can't leave things like this," I explain and he nods.

"Just... I hope this tour means as much to you as it does to me. That this is really what you want to do," he looks at me for clarity as they're opening up the door for me to go back into the airport.

"It is, I promise. I can't go knowing I could've done more, that I could've tried harder," I beg for him to get it, and he looks at me with those wiser older brother eyes that've been through heartbreak of his own. I don't need to explain it to him, and I wish I did because that would mean he doesn't know how horrible it can feel.

"You really love her?"

I hear his question as I'm stepping across the little bridge between the plane and the gate. I toss my head back when I'm crossed to the other side and just nod with tears in my eyes. I feel incredibly panicked, wondering if I'm being a fucking idiot or headed in the right direction. Either way, I'm headed home.

"I do."

I can't escape the way I love you