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

u said

a/n: plot twist ~

inspo: u said, lil peep

~

Running away from you takes time and pain and I don't even want to...

Billie's POV:

I call for the seventh time; I don't even know why I expected her phone to not go straight to voicemail. I hang onto hopes like a lifeline, no matter how many times shit hits the fan; I can't stop. I've invested too much time and pain into this relationship and the idea of it falling apart is too confusing to comprehend. Nothing is ever simple, ever.

My last hope is home and it's not far, but I almost want the walk to take longer, more time to pretend Mila's there where it's safe. I can't stop calling, and my heart skips a beat when the phone on my end actually rings a few times. After three, it cuts off. I almost wish it went to voicemail, because now I know she saw my call, but couldn't even answer it. This feels so unfair and cruel, but I don't know what she's going through or thinking and I can't place blame on either of us.

I finally get back to my house, and I'm not sure if I'm even breathing anymore. I don't know why but I walk around to my room, almost as if to spare myself the wondering right away. I see the window closed and feel what could either be false hope or my last hope.

I run back to the front and quickly unlock the door, bursting through it with force, I charge to my room.

"Mila!" I scream as I kick open my bedroom door. The red lights illuminate the room but it's not the clearest and I see nothing at first. Hope crashes down when I walk in all the way and find myself alone. Again.

I start to panic, the reality of the situation weighs me down, my shoes feeling more like anchors than kicks to make you fly. Then I start to look closer and spot the difference: the closet door wide open, hanger on the floor, a dripping wet shirt I recognize piled next to a piece of paper. Picking it up, I read the words I wrote when I was planning out the lyrics for 'hostage.'

I feel myself lean against the door before I realize that's what I'm doing, and rub the side of my forehead with my fingers. She was here. She was here but now she's fucking gone--again. I don't know whether this is good or bad, whether I'm closer or farther than I was before. Luck is not on my side and I'm fighting against all this shit thrown in my way, and I just want Mila back. I just want one conversation, one more chance.

I decide all I can do is wait, thinking if she came back here, maybe she will again.

Mila's POV:

So, I'm getting high all week without you...

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

I stand on Jennifer's porch, feeling like I'm taking a huge step backwards. I know I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this. But it helped before, before I even knew Billie's name.

"Sorry," I respond with a shrug, twisting the ties to Billie's sweatshirt around my finger nervously. I know I have to play it nonchalant and act like nothing's wrong cause I'm not trying to reel her back in--not what I came for.

Jennifer opens the door wider and I walk past, pressing my side tight to the door so I don't have to feel her touch. Even if me and Billie are nothing anymore, I know how much she would hurt from that; I couldn't do that to her. She leads me to her room and I feel my anxiety go through the roof. She shuts the door and I sit cross-legged on the floor, pulling the big sleeves over my wrists. My legs shake uncontrollably; the more I focus on them, the worse it gets.

Jennifer hovers over me, like she wants to say something more, but she also knows if she pushes too hard, I'll hop out of here. I feel her fingers lift up my chin and force me to look into her eyes. I don't know how mine look but I bet puffy and lined in red; still, her touch makes me nauseous.

"You don't look okay at all," she whispers and I shrug, sliding backward so her hand drops off my face. I'm not about to cry--I shove every feeling inside an imaginary bag and toss it out the window--out of sight, out of mind. I flash her a fake smile, and the act of it almost makes me feel better.

She turns around and walks towards her bed, picking out a pillow behind the other two, and reaches inside the case. My eyes light up at the sight, and I already feel warmer, more alive. Jennifer tosses me a bag and I catch it with one hand, immediately shoving it in my pocket as if this were happening in the middle of the street.

"How much?" I ask, even though I don't have shit to pay for them. Jennifer waves her hand like it's chill, and I feel relieved that I don't have to owe her anything.

"Shouldn't you be asking what it is?" she presses, raising an eyebrow. She carries a strange expression, probably riddled with more questions. Why I'm doing this again when I said I was done. She's the only one that knows, and it makes me anxious that I have to rely on her to keep my secret.

"Doesn't matter."

Her jaw drops slightly as I toss her a peace sign and leave out the door, my feet practically running out of that situation.

When I get back out into the street, far enough away, I pull out the plastic bag. Closing my eyes, I wrap my fingers around a pill and let it sit in the palm of my hand. I have the power to say no, but all I can do is remember how it used to feel. I stopped because I didn't feel like a person anymore, but now that I do feel like a person, I'm not sure I want to anymore. All I know is that I don't want to feel anything.

I swallow the pill and feel the hesitation when it's on the tip of my tongue. I almost spit it out--almost. Walking back, I remember my first 'date' with Billie. How I panicked when we talked about alcohol and trying to escape. How I only lied because I didn't want her to think less of me and I was done with drugs anyways.

But now, she's gone, probably a thousand miles away by now, and she probably doesn't think of me at all. Pretty soon, neither will I.

Poppin' pills, thinkin' about you...

Billie's POV:

My eyes snap open at the sound of the window sliding up, two hands wrapped around the ledge. I can't breathe when I catch Mila's eyes looking back at me.

I stand immediately and rush over to her, but she crashes to the floor, rolling over to her back. Her eyes don't look familiar, her entire expression feels like a different person, or no one at all. I can't tell if she's looking at me or past me.

"Mila," I whisper breathlessly like it's the end of a song and I'm too tired to hit the last note.

Her eyes flutter closed and her hands drop to her sides on top of the floor. I kneel next to her and wrap my arms around her to lift her up, but she feels heavy, like gravity is in control of her completely. She won't even move a muscle, something else is in control. I have so many questions but I don't know if I want to hear the answers. I sum it up to one:

"What did you take?" I say softly, and her shoulders roll back in a shrug.

"Don't know," Mila responds, and I really didn't need to hear that; it only makes my fears more intense.

"I came back because I couldn't leave without you," I tell her, not sure if she's even listening or has the capability of understanding. It's like I'm talking to myself.

"Too late," she murmurs, then rolls over in the opposite direction. I reach out for her hand but she slips both of them into the pocket of my sweatshirt she's draped inside.

"What do you mean?" my voice trembles. This feels so horrible, the guilt weighs heavy. I don't know how she got drugs but I know why and I can't help but feel the blame.

Mila's breathing grows softer and her eyes stay closed, and guilt is overridden by panic and an unsure feeling. I've never been around anyone this fucked up, especially not the one person I love more than anyone else.

"I wish I didn't have a heart to love you," the words spill out from her lips and a sharp pain twists in my chest, over and over. I choose not to respond, mostly because there's nothing I could say back to that.

All I can do is lay beside her on the floor, feeling empty while her mind floats off somewhere to heights I can't reach.

I wish I didn't play a part to break you...