Different From The Rest

Chapter 3: Routine

It became a quiet routine.

Every few days, Billie would slip into the shop. Always with the same low-key hoodie and a soft hello. No bodyguards, no attention, no cameras—just her. Y/N never made it a big deal. She'd smile, maybe make a sarcastic comment, and Billie would smile back. That was it.

Some days Billie stayed for ten minutes. Other days, closer to an hour. Sometimes they talked—about music, old records, random things like which snacks were overrated or what movies didn't live up to the hype. Other times, Billie just wandered the aisles quietly while Y/N played something soft through the speakers and minded the counter.

It was easy.

Comfortable.

On a Thursday afternoon, the store was empty except for the two of them. Rain tapped against the front windows, the gray light filtering in softly. Billie sat cross-legged on the floor near the indie rock section, flipping through a crate of records while Y/N restocked a nearby shelf.

"You know," Billie said, not looking up, "I don't think I've ever been around someone who didn't ask me for something."

Y/N paused, glancing over. "Like... ever?"

Billie shrugged. "Maybe not ever. But it's rare."

Y/N gave a small smile and returned to stacking records. "Well, I'm pretty good at pretending you're just some quiet girl who really likes vinyl."

That made Billie laugh under her breath. "Thanks. I think."

They fell into silence again—good silence. Billie leaned back, resting her head against the wall, her eyes closing for just a moment.

"You okay?" Y/N asked, not with concern, just curiosity.

"Yeah," Billie said. "This is just... nice."

Y/N looked at her for a moment. Billie's walls were still there, still carefully placed, but a few bricks had loosened. Not because Y/N pried them apart—but because she didn't try to.

"You can stay as long as you want," Y/N said simply. "The store's yours until closing."

Billie opened her eyes, glanced over, and smiled.

"Thanks."

The rain didn't let up.

It tapped steadily against the windows, a soft percussion that filled the space between words. The store was still empty. No customers. Just Billie, sitting on the floor, and Y/N behind the counter, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea.

Billie glanced toward the front door, watching the rain fall harder. "I might be stuck here for a while."

Y/N didn't look up from the magazine in her hands. "Could be worse."

Billie let a small smile tug at her lips. "Yeah. Could be a meet-and-greet."

Y/N snorted. "Do you hate those?"

Billie nodded slowly. "I hate pretending."

The quiet settled again. Comfortable. Real.

Y/N flipped a page. "You don't have to pretend here."

Billie looked over at her, eyes soft but unreadable. "I know."

They didn't say much else.

And that was the best part.

The storm was still going outside, though softer now. Billie stood near the jazz section, thumbing through vinyl like she was looking for something, though maybe she wasn't.

"Any favorites in here?" she asked, half-curious.

Y/N walked over, pulled out a worn copy of Chet Baker Sings, and handed it to her.

Billie looked down at the cover, then back up. "You like this one?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's the kind of album that doesn't try too hard. Just... feels honest."

Billie ran her fingers over the sleeve. "That's rare."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Billie added, quieter, "People pretending not to be sad is the loudest sound in the world."

Y/N didn't ask questions. Just nodded and returned to the counter.

Billie bought the record.

Didn't ask for a discount.

Didn't ask for anything.

She just smiled before leaving, the bell over the door jingling behind her like a soft exhale