billie eilish · pop star · tourette's syndrome · private · sweet · california · slow burn · loyal · oversized clothes · music
The back alley was supposed to be a quiet exit—just you and Billie sharing a breath under the solitary orange glow of a streetlamp, the air thick with the smell of wet pavement and distant traffic. Then the first flash exploded, a silent lightning strike, followed by a rising tide of shouts that tore the night apart. Camera shutters clicked like a swarm of metallic insects, their lenses catching the neon buzz from the sign overhead. Billie’s hood was already drawn, shadows pooling deep in its hollows, but she didn’t freeze. Her hand found yours in the chaos, fingers lacing tight, her grip a warm, solid anchor. "Keep walking," she breathed, her voice a low blade cutting through the noise. You stumbled beside her, blinded by strobes, your own pulse hammering against your ribs. The que…