mayar

like, there’s this loud movie music, they share this life altering kiss in the middle of a rainstorm or on a rooftop, and then the credits roll. they never show you what happens the next tuesday at noon. they never show you the actual living part. and honestly, for a long time, i think we both thought that’s how it had to be. that love was only real if it was keeping you up at three in the morning, making your chest ache so bad you couldn’t breathe, or leaving you stranded in some constant state of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

but it turns out the movies have it completely wrong. the real reward isn’t the big, dramatic speech. it’s the silence afterward. it’s how ridiculously, beautifully ordinary things finally get to be when you aren’t constantly waiting for the next disaster to strike.

right now, for example, billie is wearing your favorite oversized gray hoodie.

it’s the one with the slightly frayed cuffs and the faint scent of the vanilla laundry detergent you buy at the corner store, and it is absolutely drowning her. the sleeves are bunched up around her elbows, and she’s standing by your kitchen counter, holding a spoon that is dripping marinara sauce directly onto the floor.

"billie," you say, not even looking up from your laptop. "the floor."

"i'm on it, i'm on it," she mutters. instead of grabbing a paper towel, she just uses her socked foot to swipe at the spot, dragging it back and forth until the red smear disappears into the dark fabric of her sock. she looks over at you, giving you this completely shameless, boyish grin that makes the corners of her blue eyes crinkle. "see? professional cleaner. you should hire me."

"you are literally disgusting," you scoff, but there's no weight to it. there hasn't been any weight to your scoffs in months.

"you love me," she says easily, turning back to the stove to stir the pasta.

she says it so casually now. like it’s just a basic rule of physics, like gravity or the sun rising in the east. she doesn't say it with that desperate, pleading look in her eyes anymore, the one where she’s holding her breath and waiting to see if you’ll flinch. she just says it because it’s true, and because she’s allowed to say it now.

the hoodie she's wearing, the gray one. was actually the first thing she stole from your room after the move in. well, not even an official move in, just the slow, quiet way her things started replacing the empty spaces in your apartment. first it was her toothbrush, then her heavy black boots by the door, then a stack of vinyl records she swore sounded better on your cheap turntable, and then, finally, your clothes.

you remember the exact day she took it, too. it was a tuesday. it was pouring rain outside, the kind of heavy spring downpour that makes you want to stay in bed for forty eight hours straight, and billie had come over after her morning studio session. her own hoodie was completely soaked through, clinging to her shoulders and making her shiver when she walked through the door.

you hadn't even thought about it. you had just walked over to your dresser, pulled out the oversized gray one, and tossed it at her face.

"put that on," you had said, already turning back to your desk to finish your reading.

billie had caught it, holding the soft fabric in her hands for a long second. she didn't say anything. she didn't make a joke about how it was yours. she just pulled it over her head, letting out this long, quiet sigh as the warmth hit her. when she sat down on the edge of your bed, she kept pulling the sleeves down over her hands, burying her face in the high collar just to breathe in the smell of you.

and now, she wears it like it’s her own.

"hey," billie says, her voice breaking you out of the memory. she’s leaning against the counter now, looking at you with this soft, quiet expression. "you're doing that thing where you look right through me. what are you thinking about?"

"nothing," you say, closing your laptop with a soft click. "just how ugly that hoodie looks on you."

"liar," she chuckles, walking over to the couch.

she drops her heavy frame down onto the cushions, immediately stretching her legs out and draping them over your lap. it’s completely natural. it’s muscle memory at this point. she reaches out, her hand finding your calf, and her fingers start absentmindedly scratching at your skin through your sweatpants while she looks at her phone.

she doesn't even realize she’s doing it. it’s just what her hands do when they’re near you. they seek you out. they find the closest piece of you they can reach, and they just hold on, anchoring her to the room.

but it wasn't always this easy.

you still remember the first time physical touch came back into the picture, months after that night on the library roof.

it was mid april, and the air was still cool enough that you could see your breath if you stayed out past dusk. the two of you had been walking back from the diner near campus, carrying a white paper bag of cold french fries between you. your shoulders were brushing as you walked down the narrow sidewalk, just a tiny, accidental contact every few steps.

and every single time your sleeves touched, billie would instinctively flinch away.

she would take a half step to the side, her jaw tightening, her eyes fixed straight ahead. she was so terrified of crossing a line, so incredibly careful not to push you or make you feel like she was trying to reclaim the physical closeness she had lost. she was walking like she was on thin ice, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, her shoulders tense under her black jacket.

you had watched her do it three times before you finally got tired of the distance.

without saying a word, you reached out, caught her hand, and slid your fingers between hers.

billie had frozen instantly. she stopped walking right there on the sidewalk, under the dim yellow light of a streetlamp. she looked down at your joined hands, then up at your face, her blue eyes incredibly wide and shining with this sudden, overwhelming emotion. her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, and for a second, she looked like she was actually going to cry right there in the middle of the street.

"is this okay?" she had whispered, her fingers trembling slightly against yours.

"yeah," you had said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "it's okay."

she didn't say anything else. she just squeezed back, her grip tight and desperate, like she was holding onto a life preserver. and you had walked the rest of the way back to your building like that, your hands locked together, the cold air between you completely gone.

"miller wants to know if we're coming to that bonfire thing on friday," billie says now, her thumb sliding over your ankle. "apparently someone got a keg and some really bad speakers."

"do you want to go?" you ask, leaning your head back against the cushions.

"not really," she says, not even hesitating. "i'd rather stay here and finish that terrible movie we started yesterday. the one with the cgi shark."

"that movie is a cinematic masterpiece, billie."

"it's awful and you know it," she laughs, nudging your leg with her foot. "but i'd still rather watch it with you than go drink warm beer in a muddy field."

that's the other thing that changed. the crowd.

there was a time when billie’s entire identity was wrapped up in being the center of attention. she was the girl who had to be at every party, the one who lived for the noise and the laughs and the cheap validation of a room full of people who didn't actually care about her.

but then, the transition happened.

you remember a friday night back in late april. the weather had finally turned warm, and the frat house down the block was throwing this massive, end of semester blowout. you could hear the bass vibrating through the floorboards of your apartment from three blocks away.

billie had been over at your place, sitting on the floor with her back against your bed, helping you untangle a giant, chaotic nest of colorful yarn for a crochet project. her phone had been buzzing on the carpet next to her for twenty minutes straight before she finally picked it up.

"yo, billie, you coming?" you had heard miller's voice loud and clear through the phone. "everyone's here. the guys from the team are asking where you're at."

billie hadn't even looked up from the green yarn she was carefully threading through her fingers.

"nah," she said, her voice completely even.

"why? you sick or something?"

"i've got plans," she said.

"what plans? it's friday night, man."

"better plans," billie replied, giving you a quick, private look from under her dark eyelashes. "have fun, miller. don't burn the house down."

she hung up before he could argue, tossing her phone onto the bed behind her. she didn't look regretful. she didn't look like she was missing out on anything. she just reached back into the pile of yarn, grabbed another tangled knot, and smiled.

"okay," she had said, leaning her shoulder against your knee. "where does this pink one go?"

you ended up making pancakes at eleven o'clock that night because neither of you wanted to walk to the dining hall in the dark. you stood in your tiny kitchen, the stove top covered in flour, listening to some old jazz record billie had found at a garage sale, and it was the quietest, most peaceful friday night you had ever had.

"the pasta's done," billie announces, sliding her legs off your lap and standing up. "go sit at the table. i'll bring it over."

"should i be worried that you're cooking?" you tease, sliding off the couch. "is this an assassination attempt?"

"ha, ha," she says, rolling her eyes as she plates the food. "i'll have you know my grandma taught me this recipe. it's legendary."

you sit down at the small wooden table by the window. outside, the campus is quiet, the streetlights just beginning to flicker on as the dusk settles over the brick buildings. it's a beautiful, soft summer evening.

billie sets the plates down, then sits across from you, immediately digging in. she eats like she does everything else. with this quiet, intense focus, completely unbothered by how messy she looks with a bit of red sauce on her lip.

you watch her for a second, the warmth in your chest blooming into something so heavy it almost aches.

you think about how long it took to get here. you think about the letters, the quiet nods across the quad, the seven p.m. texts that used to make your heart jump into your throat.

it was months after the library roof when the text messages finally changed their meaning.

during the winter break, those messages had been a lifeline, a tiny, fragile thread keeping the two of you connected through the silence. but even after you came back to campus, even after you started talking again, the habit didn't die.

every single evening, at exactly 7:00 p.m., billie’s name would pop up on your screen.

it became this running joke between you, a quiet ritual that neither of you wanted to break.

one evening, you were sitting right next to her on your bed, sharing a bag of sour candy while a movie played in the background. the room was completely dark except for the glow of the television screen.

at exactly 7:00 p.m., your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

you didn't even have to look at it to know what it was. you reached over, picked it up, and read the screen.

billie : checking in :)

you looked over at her. billie was sitting there, her knees pulled up to her chest, trying and failing to hide the giant, stupid gring spreading across her face. she was staring at her own phone, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

you rolled your eyes, typing out a quick response.

you : i’m literally right here.

a second later, your phone buzzed again.

billie : still here.

you let out a soft laugh, dropping your phone onto the blanket. billie looked up, her blue eyes shining in the dark, her smile turning soft and genuine. she reached out, sliding her arm around your waist and pulling you close against her side, burying her face in your shoulder.

"just making sure," she had murmured against your skin. "just making sure you haven't vanished."

"i'm not going anywhere, bils," you had told her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

and you meant it. that was the moment you realized the paranoia was finally gone. the constant, nagging fear that she was going to pull the rug out from under you, that she was just playing a part had slowly, quietly dissolved over the months of her just showing up. she had built the safety back up, brick by brick, not with words, but with her physical, unyielding presence.

"you're doing it again," billie says, pointing her fork at you. "the staring. is there something on my face?"

"just sauce," you say, reaching across the table with a napkin to gently wipe it off her bottom lip.

billie freezes when your fingers touch her face, her eyes locking onto yours. even now, after all this time, she still gets this incredibly soft, reverent look whenever you touch her. like she can't quite believe she's allowed to be this close to you. like she's still trying to memorize every single second of it.

"thanks," she whispers, her voice suddenly dropping an octave.

"you're welcome," you say softly, pulling your hand back.

she watches you for another second before she speaks again, her voice hesitant, her jaw tightening just a fraction.

"do you… do you remember when we first started dating again?" she asks, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate. "like, officially?"

"of course i do," you say, a small smile playing at your lips. "you were a complete mess."

"i was not a mess!" she protests, though she's blushing now, the pink color spreading across her cheeks and up to her ears. "i was… strategic."

"billie, you almost burned down your kitchen trying to make pasta."

"that was a different night!" she groans, covering her face with her hands. "i'm talking about the actual night i asked you. the kitchen was fine. mostly."

it was a sunday in late may. the semester was officially over, and the campus had emptied out again, leaving the streets quiet and peaceful. billie had invited you over to her apartment for dinner, promising that she had learned how to cook something other than boxed mac and cheese.

when you walked in, the place smelled like burnt garlic and expensive olive oil.

billie had been standing by the stove, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, desperately stirring a pot of pasta while trying to read a recipe on her phone. she looked incredibly stressed, her shoulders tense, her forehead creased in concentration.

"hey," you had said, walking in and dropping your keys on the counter.

billie had jumped, looking over at you with this wide eyed panic. "hey! you're early. i mean, you're on time, but i'm behind. the garlic got… a little too dark. i think it's still edible, though. mostly."

you had walked over, taking the spoon from her hand and turning the heat down on the stove. "relax, bils. it's just pasta."

"i know," she had said, letting out this long, shaky breath. "i just… i wanted it to be perfect."

she stood there, watching you stir the sauce, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. the silence between you was warm, the light from the kitchen window casting long, golden shadows across the floor.

suddenly, billie cleared her throat.

"hey," she said quietly.

"hm?" you replied, not looking up from the pot.

"can i be your girlfriend again?"

you froze, the spoon stopping in the middle of the red sauce. you slowly turned your head to look at her, blinking in surprise. "again?"

"i liked it the first time," she said, her voice completely sincere, her blue eyes locked onto yours with this unedited vulnerability that made your chest ache. "even though we never actually got to… you know. do it properly. but i liked the idea of it. and i've been trying really hard to be the kind of person you'd actually want to say yes to."

she took a step closer, her jaw clenching slightly as she tried to keep her voice steady.

"i don't want to rush you," she continued softly, her hands coming out of her pockets to gesture vaguely between the two of you. "but i… i'd like to do it properly this time. no bets, no games, no stupid drama. just me. being your girlfriend. if you'll have me."

you had stood there for a long time, looking at the sheer, unyielding determination in her posture. she wasn't asking with flowers or some grand, dramatic speech. she was just standing in her messy kitchen, smelling like burnt garlic, offering you her whole heart on a silver platter.

"yes," you had whispered.

billie had blinked, her breath catching in her throat. "yes?"

"yes, billie," you had said, a wide smile finally breaking across your face. "you can be my girlfriend properly this time."

the relief that had washed over her face was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. she didn't let out a victory yell, and she didn't jump to pull you into a kiss. she had just let out this long, shuddering sigh, her shoulders dropping, and then she had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, burying her face in your neck.

"thank you," she had whispered, her grip so tight you could barely breathe. "i swear to god, i'm going to make you so happy."

and she did. every single day since then.

"you really were a mess, though," you tease her now, taking a bite of your pasta. "you had garlic sauce on your nose the entire time."

"shut up," she laughs, throwing a piece of bread at you. "i was adorable and you loved it."

"yeah, yeah," you say, catching the bread and eating it. "keep telling yourself that."

after dinner, the two of you wash the dishes together. it's a quick, quiet routine. you wash, she dries, both of you bumping shoulders in the narrow space of the kitchen. there's no music playing, just the sound of the running water and the occasional clink of plates, but it doesn't feel empty. it feels full. it feels like home.

"let's go for a walk," billie says, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. "the weather is too nice to stay inside."

"where do you want to go?"

"just around," she says, grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door. "the quad. it's probably completely empty right now."

the campus is indeed quiet when you walk out. the summer break has cleared out most of the students, leaving the brick paths and green lawns deserted under the darkening sky. the air is warm and heavy with the scent of cut grass and blooming flowers, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak trees.

billie reaches down, her fingers sliding effortlessly into yours, her grip warm and steady.

as you walk, your eyes drift toward the library rising up in the center of the campus. in the dark, the building looks massive and silent, the windows on the third floor completely dark.

"you know," billie says, her voice quiet as she follows your gaze. "i still think about that night on the roof."

"which one?" you ask, looking over at her. "the first time, or the second?"

"both," she says softly, her fingers tightening around yours. "but mostly the second. when i asked you for five minutes."

"you took way more than five minutes, by the way."

"i know," she smiles, a faint, reflective look coming over her face. "i was so terrified you were going to tell me to go to hell. when you said you hadn't stopped liking me… i swear to god, my heart stopped beating for a second. i thought i was dreaming."

"i couldn't lie to you," you say, stopping by the edge of the lawn. "even when i was angry, even when i was hurt… i still loved you, billie. that was the hardest part. trying to figure out how to protect myself from someone i still wanted to hold onto."

billie stops too, turning to face you. she reaches up, her cool hand coming to rest against your cheek, her thumb sliding over your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

"i want to kiss you," she whispers, her blue eyes dark and intense in the twilight. " i wanna kiss you until my breath literally gives out from longing for your lips. i wanna spend the night in your arms until the world feels too suffocating and your embrace is the only place big enough for me. i never wanna leave your side until our souls merge into one. I want you close, i want your love, your soul. i just want all of you to be mine."

the words are so raw, so completely stripped of any playfulness or hesitation, that they hang in the warm air between you like a physical weight. your heart does that strange, slow thud, the same one it did months ago in your grandma's kitchen, but this time there is no fear attached to it. there is only a profound, beautiful certainty.

"then kiss me," you say softly.

and she does.

she leans in, her lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss that feels like the end of a long, exhausting journey. it’s not the desperate, frantic kiss of two people trying to save a sinking ship. it’s the quiet, steady kiss of two people who have finally reached the shore. her other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against her body, her warmth wrapping around you like a shield against the rest of the world.

you melt into her, your hands finding the soft fabric of the gray hoodie she’s still wearing, pulling her closer until there is absolutely no space left between you.

when she finally pulls back, she doesn't go far. she rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed, both of you breathing in the same quiet air.

"you're stuck with me now, you know," she murmurs, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks. "i'm never letting you go."

"good," you whisper, sliding your arms around her neck. "because i don't think i could get rid of you even if i tried."

she chuckles, a low, rumbling sound in her chest that you feel against your own. she kisses your forehead, then your nose, before finally pulling back enough to offer you her hand again.

"come on," she says, her smile bright and completely free of any shadows. "let's go to the roof. the actual roof."

the walk up the library’s concrete stairs is different this time. there's no heavy, aching weight in your chest, no careful silence between you. billie is practically dragging you up by the hand, her boots clicking loudly against the steps as she laughs at something you said.

when she pushes the heavy metal door open, the cool evening air hits you, but it doesn't feel cold anymore.

the campus below is a beautiful grid of yellow streetlights and dark trees, the sky above a deep, velvet blue dotted with the first few stars of the night.

billie walks over to the brick ledge, but instead of leaning against it alone, she sits right on top of it, swinging her legs over the edge. she pats the space next to her, looking at you with an expectant grin.

"is this safe?" you ask, walking over.

"completely," she says, reaching out to help you up. "i've got you."

you climb up, sitting close next to her on the cold stone. the height doesn't make you dizzy anymore. you lean your head against her shoulder, wrapping your arms around yourself against the light breeze.

billie immediately wraps her arm around you, pulling you tight against her side, her chin resting on top of your head.

"what?" you ask, noticing she's gone quiet.

"nothing," she says, her voice incredibly soft. "you're just… really pretty."

you let out a soft snort, nudging her side with your elbow. "you're such a loser."

"yeah," she agrees easily, kissing the top of your head. "hopeless."

"probably," you smile, closing your eyes and breathing in the smell of her. the faint vanilla from the laundry, the metallic scent of the night air, and the distinct, warm scent that is just uniquely billie.

"good," she whispers.

you stay like that for a long time, just watching the quiet world below. there are no more words that need to be said, no more apologies to make, no more promises to extract. the silence between you is completely filled, solid and unbreakable.

finally, you let out a soft, satisfied sigh, sliding down from the ledge.

"walk me home?" you ask, looking up at her.

billie stands up first, her boots hitting the concrete with a solid thud. this time, she doesn't ask if she can.

she simply offers her hand, her blue eyes shining with everything she has become, and everything she will continue to be.

"always," she says.

you take her hand, her fingers locking instantly with yours, and together, you walk home.

thank you for reading ₊˚⊹ ৻ꪆ

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd @deardariaa @hornierthanever0 @emyscc @evieeilishh @sophlavasbillie

sometimes, it teaches you completely opposite lessons. by the time the snow started melting into dirty slush along the campus curbs, billie had finally learned how to love someone properly. but she only figured it out after she completely lost them. and you? you had finally learned exactly why people are so terrified of loving anyone in the first place, but you only learned it by being betrayed. you were both being educated by the very same tragedy, just standing on completely opposite sides of the classroom.

when winter break finally rolled around, the entire campus emptied out in forty eight hours flat. the silence that settled over the brick buildings wasn’t like the heavy, suffocating kind from november.. it was just empty.

you went home. you packed your tote bag, boarded the train, and went back to your family, back to the smell of homemade cookies and the comforting, loud chaos of a house that didn't have billie’s ghost hiding in every corner. you spent your days trying to remember who you were before you ever met a girl with blue eyes and a loud laugh.

but billie stayed behind. or well, she didn’t exactly stay on campus, but her presence followed you through a screen, exactly once a day.

every single evening, at exactly 7:00 pm, your phone would buzz on your nightstand. it didn’t matter whether you were sitting at the dinner table, watching tv with your family, or just staring at the ceiling.

billie : it’s snowing really bad here today. the quad looks entirely white.

there were no paragraphs. there were no emotional paragraphs begging for you to come back, no desperate "i miss you" texts, and absolutely no double texting. if you didn’t reply, the conversation just ended right there until the exact same time the next day.

billie : checking in :)

billie : still here.

sometimes you would open them immediately, watching the little gray text sit there on your screen. sometimes you would leave them unread for hours, letting the notification just linger while you went about your day. billie never pushed. she never asked where you were or who you were with. it was just a steady, quiet pulse. a daily reminder that she was still there, completely unbothered by your silence.

billie : i hope your grandma’s cookies are still better than the ones from the dining hall.

you stared at that one for a long time. the kitchen was quiet, the smell of actual cinnamon baking in the oven filling the air. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, your heart doing a strange, slow thud.

you : they are. the dining hall ones are still terrible.

across the country, billie probably stared at her phone for five straight minutes without breathing. the typing bubbles appeared, vanished, appeared again, and then finally stopped altogether.

billie : good. eat a lot of them.

that was it. no victory lap, no pushing for more. just a tiny, fragile crack in the wall.

by the time the buffer of break was officially over and everyone returned to campus, winter had quietly slipped away. the brutal, bone chilling ice had melted into soft spring rain, and the quad was suddenly alive with patches of fresh green grass and students shedding their heavy wool coats for light jackets. the university came alive again in the warmth of early spring, and you had to face the reality of being back in the exact same square mile as her.

this was the part where you expected billie to immediately corner you. you figured that since you had replied to a text, she would take it as a green light to start showing up at your door or waiting outside your classes with some massive, dramatic apology.

but she didn't.

instead, you were the one who accidentally kept running into her. because when a campus is this small, you can't actually avoid someone forever, no matter how hard you try.

the difference now was that billie didn't run away anymore. she didn’t awkwardly flee the lecture hall with a muttered apology, and she didn't duck her head to avoid you. she also didn't approach you. she just... existed.

you’d see her standing by the student center, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of a light black zip up, her hair was entirely dark now, messy and pulled back away from her face, catching the bright spring sunlight. she’d be listening to miller talk, completely quiet, totally stripped of that loud, cocky persona that used to dominate the entire quad. when her eyes accidentally met yours across the lawn, she didn’t smile or wave. she just gave you a small, respectful nod, letting you know she saw you, and then she’d look right back down at the ground.

it was infuriatingly consistent. she was giving you exactly what you asked for. space, but without the disappearing act. she was just letting you see her, day after day, showing up and doing the work of simply being there.

then things finally changed a little bit on a random tuesday night near the end of the month. the library was about to close, and the third floor was completely deserted except for you. you were packing your notebooks into your tote bag, the barely warm remnants of your coffee sitting in a ceramic mug by your elbow, while a gentle spring breeze drifted through the cracked window.

you could hear her heavy boots coming before you even looked up.

billie stopped at the edge of your wooden table. she didn't sit down. she didn't even take her hands out of her pockets. she just stood there, looking at you with those wide, incredibly vulnerable blue eyes. she looked exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes looking permanent at this point, but her posture was entirely steady.

"y/n?," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

you froze, holding a textbook halfway inside your bag. "yeah?"

billie swallowed hard, her jaw tightening slightly as she looked at the cautious, guarded look that immediately came over your face. "can i have five minutes? just five. i won’t take up any more of your time, i promise."

you looked at the clock on the library wall, then back at her. your heart was beating fast, but it wasn't that violent, sick feeling from november anymore. it was just a heavy, aching weight.

"five minutes," you said quietly.

she nodded, looking visibly relieved. "can we... can we go to the roof? it's way too quiet in here. i feel like everyone's staring at us.”

you hesitated for a second, then nodded. you slung your bag over your shoulder, picked up your empty mug, and followed her up the narrow concrete stairs that led to the library’s rooftop terrace.

billie shoved the heavy metal door open, and the cool outside air hit you right away. the campus below was completely dark, and you could see the streetlights reflecting off the damp sidewalks where the ice had finally melted. she walked over to the brick edge and just leaned against it, looking straight at you.

"i'm not asking for another chance," billie said, the breeze catching the loose strands of her dark hair and whipping them across her face. "i know that's what people do. they write a letter, they wait a month, and then they ask for everything to go back to normal. but i know things can't go back to normal. i'm not asking you to take me back."

you blinked, a little caught off guard by the sheer honesty in her voice. "then what are you doing here, billie?"

"i’m asking for the chance to earn it," she said, her voice completely raw, totally stripped of any frat-house armor. "there's a huge difference. i know you don’t like me the way you used to. i know the person you liked before is completely dead to you."

you looked away, your eyes tracking a car driving slowly on the street below. "i never said i stopped liking you."

it went completely silent after that, so quiet that it actually felt loud. billie just stared at you, freezing up completely as her breath hitched. her eyes went wide and filled up with tears, but she blinked them back fast because she didn't want to make a scene right there.

"i know why you liked me," billie continued softly, her voice trembling slightly but staying focused.

you looked back at her, confused. "what?"

"you liked me because you thought i made you feel safe," she said. she took one hand out of her pocket and gestured vaguely between the two of you. "in a world that always felt too loud and too fast for you, you thought i was the one place where nothing could hurt you. and i know that's completely gone now. i know that the second i walked into that basement and let those guys turn you into a joke, i destroyed that safety."

you took a step closer to the ledge, the cool air blowing past your cheeks, but your voice remained entirely level. there was no anger left in you, just a profound, empty clarity.

"it wasn't just the safety, billie," you said quietly.

she paused, locking her eyes onto yours.

"everyone thinks the worst part about what happened is that you embarrassed me," you said, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

you let out a soft, shuddering breath. "but it isn't. it's what happened inside my own head afterward. it's the fact that you made me question my own judgment about people. i thought i knew how to read someone, thought i could look at a person and tell if they were safe or if they were just playing a part. but you completely shattered that intuition. now, i spend every single day second-guessing my own thoughts, wondering if the people around me actually mean what they say or if they’re just waiting for a punchline. you left me stranded in this constant state of paranoia where i can't even trust my own mind anymore."

as the words left your mouth, you watched billie visibly break.

she looked like the ground had disappeared beneath her. her shoulders dropped and she went entirely pale, letting out this sharp gasp like the air had been knocked right out of her. her jaw was shaking, and her eyes were wide with this sudden, awful realization. she obviously knew she had messed up, but she never actually realized how badly she broke your ability to trust anything good. hearing that she had genuinely ruined parts of who you were. it completely crushed her, way worse than you just saying no ever could.

"god im sorry," billie choked out, her voice cracking as a heavy tear finally spilled over her lower lash line, tracking down her pale cheek. "i swear to god, i never wanted to change you. i'm so sorry. i'm so, so sorry—"

"billie, stop," you said softly, extending a hand to gently cut her off.

she froze, her lips parted, a desperate apology still hanging in the air.

"i know you're sorry," you told her, your voice steady and remarkably tender. "i read the three pages. i see you standing out here right now. i know the apology is entirely sincere. but it’s just... apologies aren’t the missing piece anymore. they can't un-write what happened in that basement, and they can't make me forget how quickly a safe space can turn into a joke for a bunch of guys in a frat basement. they can't erase the fact that you turned my genuine feelings into a game to win a bet."

billie swallowed the dry sob in her throat, looking down at the concrete floor. she took a slow, agonizing breath, trying to steady herself.

"i don’t expect you to believe me when i say i can become that person again," billie said, looking back up into your eyes with an unedited sincerity that made your chest ache. "honestly, if i were you, i wouldn't believe me either. words don't mean anything anymore. i just... i want the chance to show you. i want the chance to become someone you’d actually feel safe standing next to again. not because i said so, but because you watched me do it."

you leaned your back against the cold brick wall, crossing your arms against the cool breeze. you looked at the sheer, unyielding determination in her posture. the way she was standing out here just to give you the absolute truth without trying to make any excuses for herself.

"why now?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. "why did it take all of this for you to realize?"

billie let out a dry, humorless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob.

"because i finally realized that apologizing isn’t fixing anything," she said, her jaw clenched tight. "letters aren’t fixing it. crying in my room isn’t fixing it. missing you until my chest feels like it’s collapsing isn’t fixing it. the only thing that actually fixes anything... is changing. it’s showing up every single day and being a better version of myself, even if you never see it. even if you never come back to me."

that line hit you harder than any emotional apology ever could have. it wasn't a promise she was making to get a reward. it was just a fact. she was changing because she hated the person she had been, and she wanted to be better, regardless of the outcome.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, staring down at your shoes. "how do i know you won’t just hurt me again, billie? how do i know that next semester, or next year, you won't just find another frat house full of people and decide that winning some stupid bet matters more than my feelings?"

billie didn't answer immediately. the silence stretched out between you for a long, unbearable minute, the only sound being the distant hum of the campus heating vents.

"you don’t," billie said honestly.

you froze, your eyes snapping up to meet hers.

"you didn’t know the first time either," billie continued, her blue eyes wide and completely steady. "trust doesn’t come with guarantees. i could stand here and swear on my life that i’ll never make you cry again, but we both know that doesn't mean anything. i'm an idiot who screwed up the best thing she ever had. all i can actually do—the only real promise i can make—is to spend every single day giving you fewer reasons to doubt me. that's it."

you stood there for a long time, the five minutes she asked for having long since passed. you didn't say yes. you didn't say no. your mind was a chaotic blur of everything that had happened over the last few months.

"i don't know," you whispered, the truth hanging heavy in the cool air between your faces.

billie nodded quickly, a faint, incredibly small smile breaking through the exhaustion on her face. it wasn't a cocky grin, and it wasn't a victory lap. it was just a quiet, fragile expression of pure relief because you hadn't walked away.

"i know," billie said softly, tucking her hand back into her pocket. "you don't have to know right now. i have all the time in the world."

she stood up straight, stepping away from the brick ledge, and started walking toward the heavy metal door to go back inside. she wasn't lingering or trying to force a physical goodbye. she was just letting the moment end exactly where you set the boundary.

funny, you thought. the last time the two of you stood on this rooftop, everything had been just beginning. now, somehow, it felt like you were standing in the exact same place, only this time with the chance to build something entirely different.

"billie?" you called out quietly.

she stopped instantly, her hand hovering over the metal handle of the door. she turned her head back around, her blue eyes looking at you through the dark. "yeah?"

you took a slow breath, slung your tote bag securely over your shoulder, and walked toward her.

"will you walk me home?" you asked.

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