IF WE WERE MEANT TO BE // Billie Eilish

Chapter Thirteen - Bleeding Knuckles

Francis' POV

Claudia pulls me onto the dance floor as 'Waiting' by The Hunna starts to play. She lets out a scream of joy and I throw my hands in the air.

Finneas and Luke come over, giving both of us a shot. We clink our glasses and down the vodka, letting out a laugh as Fin goes into a coughing fit.

The back door of the club swings open and Billie walks in, Jordan's arm around her.

She searches the room, stopping when her eyes lock with mine. I smirk at her, causing a confused expression to fill her face.

She heads to a sofa on the upstairs balcony that looks over the dance floor, Jordan following behind her.

Luke stands behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I reach my arms back, wrapping them around his neck. I tilt my head to the side and grin and he places a soft, singular kiss on my neck. Our hips sway together as one on the dance floor and I bring one hand down to cup his cheek.

I spin around so that I face him, keeping one hand on his neck and the other on his cheek. His lowers his hands to my hips, following my movement with them. Using the hand already cupping his face, I bring my index finger to underneath his chin and pull him closer to me. He smiles softly.

***

I look in the bathroom mirror and sigh. My hair is a massive dreadlock from all the head swishing whilst dancing.

The door swings open and Billie storms in. She spots me and freezes. I scoff. It's crazy how a few hours ago she trusted me so much that I could talk her through a panic attack and now she can't even say a word to me.

Not even giving her the respect of eye contact, I sort out my chains which have become tangled.

She turns around and starts to walk towards the door but stops, her hand resting on the handle.

Billie's POV

I don't know what to say. I need to say something.

What would I even tell her if I could actually form a sentence? That I got jealous of her and Luke? That when I feel out of control I look for it in something else? That I'm so fucked up I will fuck someone who makes me feel like shit because at least I'm not scared or confused?

Because when I'm with Francis I am scared. I'm scared of the power she has over me. When I'm with her nothing else matters in my mind and when I'm not she takes up every thought.

But we're nothing but feelings. I won't have a relationship - I couldn't stand the intruding questions from interviewers but I don't want to hide my life from my fans. So, if I can never be with her fully, then what am I to her? I can never compete with anyone else because I will never offer her as much.

"Stop with the guilty look." She says, tying her hair up into a ponytail. She's calm, quiet, but her eyes are dead and cold with a piercing stare.

She rolls her eyes at my silence and walks out the bathroom.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I looked like the dumbest bitch ever just standing there with no fucking excuse.

I gulp, trying to fix my sore, dry throat.

Losing control, I punch the mirror and glass shatters all over the bathroom floor. I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, gripping my bloody hand with the other. Tears cloud my eyes, but I refuse to let a single drop fall.

Looking down at the blood, I remember my first night with Francis. I remember us sat on the alleyway as I held her bleeding palm. I remember her drunken giggling grin. Now I'm sat on this disgusting bathroom floor alone and all I can see is her dead, cold stare.