still friends?

eighteen

A/N: Here's a long chapter to make up for the short ones that I've been posting lately.

TW: Talk of homophobia. Drug use and alcohol consumption.

My eyelids slowly fluttered open to the beautiful sound of a piano being played from Finneas' old room. For a moment I thought Finn was here but when I looked around the room, I couldn't spot Billie. Then the piano stopped and I heard a "fuck," that's when I knew it was Billie playing the piano. I threw the covers off my body and walked over to the mirror, throwing my naturally wavy hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, fixing the oversized shirt I was wearing.

The piano started playing again and I smiled at the song that she decided to play. "The Hill." It was the first 'hard' song Billie learned how to play, and she hasn't stopped playing it since. I still remember her showing it to me, she was so proud of herself but tried to hide it. It took her only a few days to master but she'd get so frustrated every time she messed up.

I tiptoed into the room, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed as she began singing. I listened closely to her voice and every syllable she sang. As the vibrations of her voice chorused through my veins, I pushed myself further onto the bed with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and imagined everything being perfect.

"But where are you, my angel now? Don't you see me crying? And I know that you can't do it all, But you can't say I'm not trying."

She ended the song with a sigh, I slowly opened my eyes; wishing the song never had to end.

"You seriously have the voice of an angel," I said in almost a whisper. Her head snapped back and she gave me a sad look.

"How long have you been there?"

"Doesn't matter," I shook my head.

"They told me in one of my meetings yesterday that I have to leave for New York today."

"Can we talk?" I asked, ignoring her comment.

"Millie, I'm really sorry," she started speaking, moving onto the bed, "My mom told me what happened yesterday and I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I should have been here, and I should've come home right away."

"Bil, that part doesn't even matter. Why did you go hook up with someone after work?"

"I don't know," she stuttered.

"I know we aren't 'together', but I thought we had something, ya know? Am I stupid? Did I imagine it when you told me you liked me?" I poured out.

"No, you didn't," She looked down into her lap, fidgeting with the bottom of her hoodie.

"What are we, Billie? I'm not good at this whole, 'friends who kiss but don't talk about anything else' status."

"I don't know M...I want to be more," she trembled.

"Okay..." I trailed off.

"But I don't know how to be exclusive. I'm not ready."

"Will you ever be ready?"

"I want to say yes but, I just don't know."

My eyes darted to my lap as my lips trembled. "I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry," she apologized, grasping my hand in hers.

"It's okay," I whispered.

"No, it's not," she shook her head.

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"Tell me the truth, tell me how you feel. Please don't let this change our friendship. You used to tell me everything."

"Okay," I let out a shaky breath, "It hurts, it hurts really fucking bad. Knowing the one person you want to be with, you might never get to yourself. But it's okay, I've had that feeling for years now."