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

i love you (part one)

a/n: I'M SO HEARTBROKEN FUCK. you can probably tell by the switch-up, but at least this story will have a happy ending. 

~

It's not true, tell me I've been lied to...

Billie's POV:

I don't get how everything can be so good until it just isn't anymore in the span of a single second, with one sentence like a trip-wire and the whole relationship is suspended mid-air. And it's fucking terrifying knowing I gave my all to someone and even then it's not enough to keep things perfect. Now all I want is to go back to a month ago or even one day ago; it feels like all we ever do is try to replicate the good feelings, but nothing feels the same as the first high. Then you stop and think and realize you got addicted trying to feel that same feeling that you'll never experience in the same way.

The window hangs open and I don't have the energy to pull the sheets tighter with the wind blowing in. Because Mila left out the window when I left the room for a minute to breathe, rethink, and apologize. Closing it would feel like accepting she's not coming back.

I almost feel like laughing, because it honestly feels like a cross between the worst joke ever and a blatant lie. I'm finally going somewhere, on my first tour, and of course the way things work I have to sacrifice what I love for what I love. My heart and my head is wrapped around music and Mila, but I can't have one without the other. It's like asking someone would they rather not be able to breathe or have their heart stop, they both fucking suck and will kill you either way.

The first alarm on my phone buzzes, and I have an hour before we have to leave for the airport. 2 am used to carry this rush with it, and now it's a different type of rush, a fear. Fear that if she doesn't come back, this is really it. What's been suspended in the air will either slowly fall back down or get so far away I won't be able to reach anymore.

Mila's POV:

What the hell did I do? Never been the type to let someone see right through...

I stop running after I don't even know how long, falling to my knees on the sidewalk to catch a breath. After a minute or two, it's not getting any better and if anything my lungs are refusing to fill even more than before, with everything there is to think about.

I go back and wonder where I'd be without Billie, if I'd be here at all. You can't just walk or run or fly away from the person who saw you at your weakest point, a place you could've died in if they didn't pull you out. Before her, I hated practically everybody and let people who hurt me make me feel like everyone else I met was out to do the same.

Closing my eyes in between muffled gasps for air, I remember a trick Billie taught me to do in the middle of bursts of anxiety. I can almost feel her fingers tracing the outline of my hand, telling me to inhale while my finger trails up and exhale on its way back down. Then she kissed the back of my hand and told me it's a way of bringing a physical aspect to calm my breathing, that she did it before her talent shows as a kid to steady herself.

It's like even when she's not here, she still is, still helping and giving me her hand. But I can't-- I can't always rely on one person when times are like this. It feels so pathetic crying on the sidewalk at past 1 am, the only thought in my head: if only Billie was here. It's not fair to put that pressure on her to always be my superhero, but I don't know yet how to save myself because I'm always looking for someone else to do it for me.

I feel safety in the memories, going back to places that feel like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time. It's like looking back helps me decide how to move forward.

"So, I'll dm you?"

I turn around and walk backwards, and shake my head at Billie.

"No, I still think you're a bitch," I grin and she places her hand over her chest like I stabbed her, then waves goodbye.

It hurts to think how deadset I was on not letting her in, on not letting anyone see through me. But, as soon as she cracked the glass a little, I let it all come crashing down.

"I'm not lying! You just want me to broken so you can turn me into your little project! That's why I'm here right? My dad hit me and the whole party thing, and you feel sorry for me. Maybe you should just worry about yourself," I go off, thoughts I didn't want to share make their way out into the open before I can keep them locked away.

"No! I'm worrying about you because you're fucking starving yourself and I don't want to watch someone I care about slowly kill themself!" Billie blurts out, and I shrink away from her. I don't say anything for a while and neither does she. She lets out a breath and I focus on the floor, blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry, Mila. I just-- I can't sit here and pretend like nothing's wrong," Billie shudders, and I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that she shouldn't worry. I know what I'm doing.

I didn't know what I was doing, at all. But, I really, really thought I did. So, what if I'm doing the same exact thing right now, convincing myself I'm making the right decision when all it's doing is hurting me and Billie? I press two fingers to the sides of my head and try to breathe again and think of something more that will help me pick a direction to walk in, literally. Back to Billie's or my dad's or somewhere entirely new.

"We never really were anything in the first place. You were an experiment and I'm over it," she cooly breaks me down like it's easy and we mean absolutely nothing. But she can't mean that, I know what we were doing, and it wasn't some experiment, otherwise I never would have let myself fall for her.

I try to speak but my mouth feels dry and no words come to mind, and maybe this really is over. Billie waits for me to respond, and when I don't, she shoves her lunch tray across the table so hard the food almost spills into my lap, as she climbs out of her chair and stands up.

"Here, you can throw it away. That's what you do best, right?" Billie smirks, and my heart sinks. My brain is screaming at me, telling me lies that I'm not sure are lies anymore. That I was so, so stupid to let her know my secrets, to think she wouldn't throw something that affects me every minute of every day in my face like she never really cared.

"Fuck you," I look up and meet her gaze, feeling my fingers tremble with either anger or hunger or both. Billie purses her lips and nods slowly, then walks away without another word.

I want to shake my head of the bad memories, but they're just as, if not more, clear compared to the good. I feel my legs tense up, like I should jump up and run as far away from her as I possibly can get. Because I know how she has the potential to pick out my worst insecurities like that and throw them in my face. To be so casually cruel and make me regret ever letting myself become a little transparent.

I can't go back. I can't just believe she'd never do something like that again, because I'm not all fixed up and perfect from that time. I left behind the scale and the eating habits but the voice in my head whenever something goes wrong in my life that tells me 'if you were skinny none of this would've happened,' I haven't left behind.

I feel like all we did is let ourselves get so wrapped up in romance and saying 'i love you' that we fooled ourselves into believing we're perfect. But when something got in the way, it showed us that we aren't perfect, and maybe we never will be. Now I wish I could go back to that moment and bite my tongue, to take back those three words and save them for a time when I know for sure I really mean it.

You didn't mean to say 'I love you...' I love you, and I don't want to...