Chapter Text
Outside the windshield, a sprawling neon sign glows against the night sky, its retro aesthetic immediately recognized.
"THE CLOAKROOM" Below it, in smaller letters, “vinyl & vintage”.
It’s a legendary spot—half record store, half hidden lounge, known only to locals and die-hard music enthusiasts. The kind of place that doesn’t advertise—doesn’t need to.
Billie unbuckles her seatbelt, mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Thought you might appreciate a place that actually cares about music," she says, nodding toward the entrance. "They’ve got original pressings of my EP in there. And way cooler stuff."
She pauses for a beat, watching as Elyian’s eyes wander the exterior, then softer, "Plus... nobody’s gonna bother us here." She holds your gaze, letting the implication sink in—this isn’t a fan meetup, this is her choosing to share something personal with him.
Elyian beams, his smile basically lighting up her car as he steps out. He slings his backpack over his shoulder, the keychains clinking against his pins and zippers as he looked over to Billie.
"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief, his mouth open, "I thought we were gonna run some errands or something—I wouldn't have minded—but I like this much better."
He smiled, stepping closer to her, "Lead the way, Ms. O'Connell." He winked, bowing dramatically.
She bursts out laughing at his theatrics, shaking her head as she steps out of the car—slinging her own bag over her shoulder.
"Ms. O’Connell?" she repeats, grinning like an impressed Simon Cowell. "Damn, pulling out the government name like that?" She nudges him playfully with her elbow before heading toward the entrance, tossing a glance back at you. The smirk dancing on the edge of her lips is all mischief as she holds the door open for you, the faint hum of vintage records already spilling out into the night.
He cocked his head, lips parting as he dared to challenge that, "If you really want to talk about government name, then please, lead the way Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O'Connell."
He grinned like he'd just won a bet against her, the smile faltering as he realized just how utterly stalker he sounded.
Billie’s eyes widen for a second, caught completely off guard by your rebuttal—not to mention the fact that he actually got her full legal name. She’s impressed more than anything.
She shakes her head in disbelief, her smirk returning. "Damn, you really know your stuff, huh? Points for knowing the middle names too."
She steps through the door, letting it swing shut behind them both before turning back to him with an impressed smile. "Alright, fanboy, let’s see if you can impress me even further."
He stops just as he gets through the doorway, waiting for Billie right behind him. "Hey, what do I call you anyways?" He asked, not bothering to look around just yet.
"I feel weird calling you ‘Billie’ it feels too casual, but anything else feels too formal…" He stands awkwardly, racking his brain.
She pauses mid-step, turning back to face him with an amused tilt of her head. "Just Billie is fine," she says, shrugging.
"I mean, unless you want to keep calling me Ms. O’Connell—" Her smirk deepens. "—or Pirate." She chuckles at her own little tease. "Seriously though, don’t overthink it. You’ve earned the right to be casual."
Elyian smiled, "Billie it is then." He finally turned around, his eyes wandering the area.
The air inside The Cloakroom is thick with the warm, crackling scent of aged vinyl and wood polish—a hazy glow from amber pendant lights casting everything in a honeyed, nostalgic hue. The walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with record crates, their spines a patchwork of faded colors and bold fonts, some so rare the sleeves are wrapped in protective plastic. A vintage jukebox hums quietly in the corner, its neon tubing flickering faintly as it cycles through a jazz standard.
Deeper in, past the labyrinth of shelves, a sunken lounge area beckons—plush, burgundy couches encircling a low table stacked with art books and lyric notebooks left behind by regulars. The back wall is dominated by a massive mural of David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane lightning bolt, the paint slightly chipped at the edges, as if it’s been there for decades.
And then there’s the music—always the music—spilling from hidden speakers: right now, it’s a soulful, obscure B-side from the ’70s, the vocals raspy and intimate, like the singer is whispering secrets just for you.
Billie watches Elyian’s reaction, her smirk knowing. "Told you it was special," she murmurs, low in a way that makes his heart skip a beat.
His eyes flicker around, utterly amazed and entranced by the area. His hands gently grip on his backpack strap, tapping excitedly on the soft material.
"Holy... I want my house to look like this." He smiled, turning back to Billie, "I'll probably follow you around like a lost puppy though."
She snorts, the image of him following her around, wide-eyed and awed, making her smile wider. "You might as well be wearing a leash," she teases, bumping her shoulder into his playfully. "Don’t get lost."
A glance shoots at at his backpack, curious. "Mind if I have a look in there? I bet there's some interesting stuff."
The tease makes him flush a deep red, almost causing him to freeze on the spot—though he knows it’s nothing she meant to imply.
Her question snaps him out of it, "Sure?" He responds, slipping it off his shoulder, the ease showing how light it is.
"It's usually got my laptop and stuff in it, but since I was… supposed to just be going to the movies, it's just my wallet, sketchbook and art stuff, my phone charger just in case, and a jacket." He shrugged, handing the bag to her without any hesitation.
Billie takes the backpack from him, her fingers brushing against the fabric before she carefully unzips it—her curiosity evident. She pulls out the sketchbook first, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow—silently asking for permission to flip through it.
"You draw?" she asks, already impressed. Her gaze shifts back to the sketchbook, flipping it open carefully—revealing whatever art lies within.
He smiled, "Yeah, sometimes. Mostly digital but I like returning back to traditional every once in a while." His hand moves to open the cover for her, urging her to look through it. She finds the first page is blank—a routine he follows, planning to add a favorite drawing there but never getting to it.
It's filled with a lot of random sketches, semi-realism and a sort of anime kind of style. Some of them seemingly from some of his friends as they're signed, a whole page is dedicated to testing new art materials, covered in streaks of varying color.
A few pages have completed works, some random characters (likely friends or OCs), a few tattoo inspiration, and she finds a page of sketches of her.
Her breath catches slightly as she flips through the pages—absorbing every stroke, every scribbled note in the margins. She lingers on the portrait of Ghostface, impressed by the detail and moodiness of it, before moving on to the tattoo designs.
Then—she sees herself.
Not just one sketch, but multiple—some quick, some more polished. Her lips part slightly, caught off guard by the intimacy of seeing herself through his eyes.
"...Damn," Billie murmurs, her voice softer now. "You’re really good." She glances up at him, a quiet amusement in her gaze—but there’s something else there too, something unreadable. "Didn’t realize I had my own page," she teases lightly, though her tone holds no bite.
She’s flattered. Deeply.
Elyian’s eyes close as he smiles, scrunching his nose—a reference to her iconic expression when taking photos, it's become a habit to mimic that—"Thank you!"
But when his eyes meet the pages of her, Elyian blushes, looking down at his shoes in embarrassment, "Uhm— I mean... your face is like, super recognizable, I could see your eyes alone and know it's you." He admitted, though referencing an interview where she mentioned a fan recognizing her just from her eyes when she was trying to be discreet in public.
Billie lets out a soft huff of laughter, both at his little imitation and the embarrassed explanation.
"That’s fair," she concedes, her tone warm. "I do have a pretty distinctive stare." She traces a finger lightly over one of the sketches—a profile of her in mid-performance, hair wild, eyes half-lidded—before snapping the sketchbook shut and handing it back to him.
"But seriously," she adds, meeting your gaze. "You’ve got talent. Like, real talent." She hesitates for a beat, then smirks. "Maybe you should draw me properly sometime."
The invitation—the implication—hangs in the air between them.
He froze for a moment, unimaginable thoughts flooding through his brain. He suddenly remembered an interview talking about her movie and how Titanic heavily influenced What Was I Made For? when she mentioned the hand-on-window scene, then to the "draw me like one of your French girls… wearing only this."
The boy flushed a deep red. "Uh— you mean we'll meet again sometime?" He changed the topic, trying not to lean it to anything flirty if he picked up on her tone wrong.
She smiles again—more knowingly this time, clearly enjoying how flustered he is—watching him blush and stumble over his words.
"Yeah," she replies casually, but her tone is still tinged with that same low haziness to it. "I’d like that." She glances around the record space, feigning distraction for a moment, before her gaze settles back on Elyian.
"But for now…" Her smirk turns sly. "…let’s see what kind of music we can dig up."
It takes him a minute to gather his thoughts and his composure, taking a breath as he trails behind her like—just as he said—a lost puppy on the sidewalk.
Elyian's eyes wander as they do, each step revealing more and more shelves of records, CDs, and the lounge in the back. "Uhh... I don't think I'd be much help, I'm honestly into a bit of everything, really."
As he meanders down the aisles, she glances back at him, amused by the way him follow at her heels—as if she’s guiding him through uncharted territory.
"That makes things easy then," she notes casually, scanning the spines of record sleeves as she passes by. "Just means I get to choose whatever I want." She shoots him a sly smirk over her shoulder, clearly enjoying this role reversal.
She slows, her fingers skimming over a rack of vintage vinyls before pausing thoughtfully. "So, what don't you like?"
Elyian's eyes land on her, thinking a moment before speaking up, "I don't really know…" He admitted, "But I'm broke, so I ain't buying anything unless I think I'll be fine nagging customers tomorrow."
She flips through a few more records before stopping at a particularly worn-looking sleeve. "But don’t worry," she adds, pulling it out with a grin. "I’m buying." The record she holds up is a rare pressing of Dark Side of the Moon—but with an alternate cover, something only a true collector would recognize.
"Besides," she continues, her smirk widening, "if you nag customers too hard tomorrow, I might just have to cover your bills." Her tone is teasing, but there’s something underneath it—something sincere. Like she genuinely would—just because she can.
He pauses, reeling back a fraction as confusion washed over him. "Wait— did I even tell you what I do for a living?"
His eyes land back onto her, "My memory's shit but I'm like 90% sure I didn't…" His brows furrow, waiting for a response to confirm his memory gap.
Billie blinks—then bursts into laughter, shaking her head as she leans against the record shelf. "No, you didn’t," she admits, still chuckling.
"But you just gave off retail employee so hard when you mentioned ‘nagging customers.’" She shrugs, grinning. "Plus, your whole vibe has that ‘I deal with the general public’ energy."
Her smirk turns knowing. "Am I wrong?"
Elyian's arms cross in front of his chest with a scoff, "Yes, you're wrong." His brows furrow even more, offended at the assumption.
"I'm a graphic designer and digital artist on the side, I'd just have to upcharge my commissioners or beg for tips like a toxic boyfriend" He rolled his eyes.
She laughs again, clearly enjoying his mock offense. She nods emphatically, playing along. "My mistake," she concedes, her tone exaggeratedly apologetic.
"Clearly, you have far more dignified ways of earning cash than lowly customer service peasant work."
As she speaks, she moves deeper into the store, her gaze scanning the records as she continues to tease him without missing a beat. "But if I'm honest…" Her tone becomes more conspiratorial. "I've seen some questionable graphic design work online, you sure your art is worth the upcharge?"
His mouth opens with dramatic shock and offence, "Alright, that's just mean." He pouts, turning away for a moment before looking back at her.
"I'll show you my portfolio if it made you feel any better," Elyian pressed his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, "It's not like I'd scam you or anything, it would be sued out of my ass. Plus, you're literally my favorite artist."
Billie raises an eyebrow at his dramatic reaction, fighting back another laugh as you pout like a wounded puppy, but when you offer to show her your portfolio, her expression softens slightly—almost touched by his earnest tone.
But she quickly recovers, schooling her features into a carefully nonchalant expression. "Your favorite artist, huh?" she asks, her tone slightly teasing, though there's a hint of surprise—and maybe even pleasure—behind it. She glances over her shoulder, her gaze roaming over him in a way that's almost studious.
He shrugged like it wasn't a surprise, she was well-known and he literally spilled his guts about almost everything he knew about her in her car.
"I mean, I love your music, it's not a shocker." He tilts his head, studying her in case it was a shocker.
She lets out a small huff of laughter at that, shaking her head as if impressed by his unapologetic fanboying.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, you know," she remarks, her tone playful as her gaze flicks back to the records. Her hand moves to run along the spines thoughtfully, as if contemplating something quietly.
Then, she glances back at you with an almost devilish glint in her eyes. "And since I'm your favorite…" Her smirk widens. "Can I ask you something?"
Elyian rolled his eyes, turning away to hide the flustered smile on his face before she continued His body turns to face her, intrigued by the question, his brain shooting him a million guesses.
"Sure, hit me." He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Billie leans in slightly—just enough to lower her voice, like she’s sharing a secret.
"If you could pick one song of mine to hear live—like, right now, just for you—what would it be?" Her gaze is locked onto his, playful but curious, like she’s genuinely interested in the answer.
"And don’t say ‘all of them,’" she adds quickly, smirking. "Pick one."
He pauses, eyes defocusing, the question only pushing him to ask more before he answered. "Okay wait, you can't ask me something like that, I need details."
He looks back up to her, "Like here now or at a concert? Would I hear the instrumentals and backing vocals? Can I record?" He pauses, palms up in confusion, more questions at the tip of his tongue.
"I seriously need more than just 'what if' like, when? How? Why? Questions like that always suck, especially when the person doesn't know the answers to the details and only responds with 'I dunno, whatever feels right'." He rambled, tone laced with annoyance like it's happened before, which is likely.
She bites back a laugh as his stream of questions pours out, clearly amused by the thoroughness and slight annoyance at open-ended scenarios. When he finally finishes, she shakes her head, still smirking.
"You're gonna give me a headache," she teases good-naturedly. "But fine, I'll give you more context." She shrugs, leaning back against the record shelf.
"Pretend it's a private concert, and you've won an exclusive invitation." Her gaze is locked onto his. "One chance to hear any song. What's it gonna be?"
He pauses, a song already in his mind but he thinks about it before responding. "Uhm... I... Okay give me a minute, I wanna answer this honestly and seriously. Real, detailed answers to questions like these matter to me."
He points at her, finger bobbing twice before returning to his thoughts.
She laughs at your insistence on giving an honest answer, clearly entertained by his dedication to getting this right.
"Alright, alright," she relents, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Take your time. I’ll wait." She stands casually against the shelf, watching as he concentrates on getting his answer just right.
Elyian leans against the shelf behind him, careful not to crush any records or move them at all.
He let out a deep exhale, prepared to voice out every word of his thought-hurricane, “Alright. So, my very first thought was Bittersuite, utterly amazing vocals and I feel like I'm ascending for the first twenty-five seconds, I wish there was more of the electronic intro as a song though. Chihiro is also amazing, especially the outro, even more ascension."
He takes a breath, "But I wanted to dig deeper before answering, you know? In case I'd regret the answer, take it back, yada yada... I thought of Everything I Wanted, deep song but not something I'd die for, same with Bitches Broken Hearts and Six Feet Under, both killer songs I'd fall asleep crying to."
He glanced over at Billie finally, studying the expression she has on her face—all-ears, unblinking, a smirk teetering on the edge of her lips—it makes his heart skip a beat.
But he pulls himself out if it, revising his options for a good moment before his lips parted to speak.
"Okay... Wildflower." He meets her gaze, "It makes me feel kind of poser-y that I chose a newer song." He scoffed at himself. "But, I can softly sing it with you, start sobbing and scream the lyrics, every piece of it is just… perfect."
Billie smiles at the confession, clearly pleased by his choice. "Don't feel 'poser-y'," she assures him, her tone softly earnest. "Your reasoning is solid." Her gaze softens as he explains his choice further, her expression almost warm now.
"Besides…" She pauses, letting the word hang for just a moment. "Choosing something that makes you feel anything isn't a bad thing. That's what music is for, right?"
He smiled softly at her rebuttal, "You're right." His head tilted.
"What would a private concert even look like though? I'd feel so embarrassed being a one-person crowd screaming your song." He giggled awkwardly.
She laughs at the awkwardness exuding from him, clearly amused by the image he just put in her head. "Hey, I'd call that a dream come true," she quips, her tone playfully smug.
"And trust me, I've performed in front of some quiet audiences. One person cheering would be a welcome change." She grins. "Besides… I bet you've got some impressive lungs."
Elyian smiled, the reassurance warming him, though that comment felt like a challenge. "No, seriously— I can sing the entire chorus of The 30th, I may have almost died doing it but I was so proud of myself."
She raises an eyebrow, intrigued by his declaration. "The whole chorus, huh? Damn."
She's clearly impressed, her tone teasing but genuinely enthusiastic, like she's ready to put his claim to the test.
"That's... dedicated. No wonder you thought you'd die." She grins. "Though I'm tempted to ask you to prove it."
He reeled back in surprise, stuttering for a moment. "Okay what." He paused, "Right here? In this public record store?"
Billie can't help but laugh at his shocked reaction, her amusement clear. "Don't act so surprised," she teases. "You're the one who made the bold claim. I've gotta call your bluff somehow."
She leans closer, her expression now almost teasingly challenging. "So go ahead and impress me. Right here, in this public record store."
He froze like an anime character turning white in shock, utterly perplexed by her demand. "God no, I'm horribly embarrassed about everything I do in public."
He rebounded, though whispered under his breath, "I'd need to warm up first at least."
She leans back, smirking—clearly satisfied with his reaction. "Aww, performance anxiety?" she teases, her voice low enough to match his whisper.
"Fine, fine—we’ll save it for when you’re warmed up." Her smirk turns playful again as she nudges him gently with her elbow. "Which, by the way, means next time."
The implication—that there will be a next time—hangs in the air between them.
He leans back onto the shelf, defeated and flustered before turning back to her. "What record do you have there anyway, you've been holding onto it this entire conversation." His eyes darted to her hands.
She blinks—almost as if she forgot she was holding the record—and then laughs under her breath. "Oh, this?" She flips it around so you can see the cover—a vintage pressing of The Dark Side of the Moon, but with an alternate, ultra-rare sleeve.
"Thought you might appreciate the collector’s touch," she says casually, like she didn’t just casually pick out something incredibly niche.
Her smirk widens as she watches his reaction. "And before you ask—yes, I’m buying it for you."
His hands outstretched in an almost defensive position, stopping her before she walked anywhere to buy it.
"Wait, I don't want you buying something super rare, it'd be in much better hands with a super-fan collector." He explains softly.
She pauses, studying your expression—almost like she’s trying to figure out if he’s actually uncomfortable with the idea or just being polite. After a second, she exhales through her nose, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
"Okay, fine," she concedes, though her tone is playful—like she’s already planning to argue back. "But only because I don’t wanna overwhelm you too much today."
She tilts her head slightly. "Yet."
A relieved sigh fell from his mouth, his frame visibly relaxing. "Thank you, I just hate the idea of you giving me something that someone else would literally die for—especially from you." He sighed, looking around absentmindedly.
She smiles softly, her gaze almost warm now—like there's genuine understanding in her expression.
"I get it," she says, her voice soft but earnest. "I really do. You're one of those people who care more about people's feelings than a physical thing—especially when said thing is irreplaceable."
There's something almost... fond in her tone. Like she admires that level of empathy. "And I respect the hell out of you for that, just to be clear."
He smiled, genuinely, staring into her eyes like he was entranced back in the theater once again.
"Thank you." He said softly, like no one had ever acknowledged him.
For a brief moment, she just looks at him—really looks—like she’s seeing something new in him. The teasing glint in her eyes softens into something quieter, something more sincere.
”…You’re welcome,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper—but it carries weight. Then, just like that, she shifts—blinking away the quiet moment with a playful smirk.
"Now, come on," she says, nudging you gently. "Let’s find something that doesn’t make you feel guilty for accepting it." Her smirk widens—but it’s softer now. "And maybe something you actually want."
A soft chuckle falls from Elyian’s lips, grateful for not buying some expensive record that would be much more loved in someone else’s hands.
The two walk around for a little bit, scanning around, making comments and pointing out various vinyls, CDs, and albums before he stops in front of an Arctic Monkeys AM record.
The world stops for a moment, memories flooding back to him in too many ways. His fingers graze the logo, the thin card flexing beneath his skin.
Billie stops beside him, watching as he stares down at the record—clearly noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor. She’s silent for a moment, her gaze studying your expression, there’s something almost intuitive in her eyes now.
When he doesn’t move to pick up the record, or speak, she gently bumps her with her hip. "You gonna get it, or just stare at it like a lost puppy the whole time?" she teases, her tone light but her gaze warm.
Elyian snaps out of his trance, hand pulling away from the large square like he was just caught stealing cookies like a little kid.
His throat cleared, "I'd... rather not." He forced a smile, silently praying she wouldn't ask, yet he wasn't entirely against explaining it.
She doesn’t push—not right away—instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying his expression with a quiet curiosity. There’s no teasing now, no prodding, just waiting.
When he doesn’t offer anything more, she exhales softly—then gently nudges the record sleeve with one finger, sliding it slightly toward him.
"You don’t have to tell me," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I am listening—if you want to." Her gaze meets hers, steady and unjudging. "You know that, right?"
He nodded, "Yeah… thank you." He let a beat of silence hang between them in vulnerability. "Maybe next time." His head tilted, "Yeah?"
Billie smiles—just a small, soft thing—and nods. "Next time," she echoes, her tone quiet but firm.
The words settle between them like a promise—one she clearly intends to keep. Then, with a playful glint returning to her eyes, she nudges his shoulder gently.
"Now let’s find something that doesn’t feel like emotional landmines, yeah?" A gentle smile spreads across her face, nudging Elyian away from whatever emotions overtook him in that moment. Her smirk is back—but softer now. Like she’s making sure you’re okay before shifting gears.
He gigged, his demeanor immediately lifting as he turned to glance over to the other side of the store.
Chapter 3.5: like you mishear all my songs
Notes:
okay here's a shorter chapter early cause ch.3 was shorter than I really wanted it to be... so here's basically ch.3.5???
Elyian wandered around for a moment, sifting through records, CDs, and just basking in the coziness of the store. It wasn’t long until he finally grabbed a CD—Wonderwall by Oasis—and set it down onto the checkout counter next to Billie. The song comes with a lot of memories, plus a little TV show reference.
Billie raises an eyebrow as he places the CD onto the counter, amused by his choice.
"Oasis?" she remarks, her tone teasing—though not outright mocking. "I would have pegged you for a Beatles fan, ya know." There’s a subtle glint in her eye as she glances at the CD then back at him.
"Should I be expecting an acoustic cover sometime soon?" Her teasing smile deepens, her tone almost challenging.
He giggled, "Beatles is my mother, but thanks." He winked, eyes resting on the plastic casing of the CD.
"It's a little reference to a TV show and a lot of memories." He smiled, "Not… sob-story kind this time."
She blinks as he mentions “reference”, her interest clearly piqued. Her lips quirk up in a smirk. "Good. 'Cause I was starting to worry there," she teases, leaning against the counter.
He chin jerks up, toward the CD. "So you gonna explain the reference, or leave me in suspense?"
A laugh fell from Elyian's lips, "You know the show 'Everything Sucks!' on Netflix? The main kid has a subscription to a record store, I think and gets the cassette in the mail, he gives it to the love interest because he already had a copy."
He smiled, glancing to her before continuing, "The song is like integrated into the show the entire time, he eventually remakes the music video with his friends to ask the girl out."
Billie listens intently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the little description. "So it's a whole plot-driving moment, huh?" she muses, tilting her head slightly as she imagines the scene. When he mentions the remade music video, she can’t help but chuckle. "Dude sounds ambitious—and kinda cheesy."
He shrugged, "I mean, it was set in 1996 and makes perfect sense for a freshman in high-school." A giggle fell from his lips.
She laughs softly at your reasoning, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, okay—fair point," she concedes, her smirk playful again. Her eyes glance back down at the CD again before looking back at Elyian, her gaze lingering just a second longer than usual—like she’s committing this moment to memory.
"...You know, I might have to watch this show now." Her smirk deepens. "Just to fact-check your version of events."
A smile spreads across Elyian’s face, "It's good, there's queer representation, multiple POVs, realistic depictions of teenagers varying in age and maturity."
His eyes turned back to the counter, the clerk bagging everything now, "Show discontinued 'cause Netflix hates everyone and wants us to die. But I recommend it."
She laughs at the little description—the very obvious passion he has for this show is clear in his eyes, then, when the word “cancellation” rings through her ears, she lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like it’s a crime against humanity.
"Of course Netflix canceled it," she groans, dramatically rolling her eyes. "Netflix hates letting people have nice things."
"Right? Like this is the 4th show you've cancelled for no reason." He scoffs, the clerk handing a paper bag with Elyian's CD and some other things Billie bought for herself or other.
"You must be regular if they don't blink twice at you, damn." He giggled softly, smiling up at her.
A soft chuckle falls from Billie at his indignation—clearly amused by his passionate tirade.
"Hey, I’m just as offended." She pouts dramatically, feigning offense. "They canceled 'Killing Eve'—I’m supposed to have a bone to pick with them." She rolls her eyes—though amusement crinkles the corners of her eyes.
"You’re underestimating my charming personality." She quips, a smug smirk playing at the edges of her lips.
A soft huff of laughter fell from his lips, shaking his head as they walked towards the exit together.
"Underestimating?" He scoffed, "Right, like I'm not also charmed by the one-and-only?" He raised an eyebrow as he pushed the door open for her. Elyian immediately regretted those words falling from his mouth, she obviously knew most of her fans fawned over her—but that was just embarrassing to say…
She lets out a soft laugh as she walks past him, her eyes flickering up to his for a brief moment. There’s something unreadable in her gaze—like she’s trying to gauge something. As soon as she walks out the door, though, her expression reverts to that more familiar cocky smirk—though there’s definitely a hint of mischief in her eyes now.
"Just admit it." she challenges, raising an eyebrow. "You’re head over heels fanboying right now."
Elyian walked out a step after her, finding his place at her side as he turned away with a red face, his hand coming up to shield his expression. "Okay—don't call me out like that…" He groaned softly, folding into himself with utter embarrassment.
Billie laughs—a real laugh, from the depths of her belly—as she looks over at him. His response is exactly what she expected—and exactly what she wanted. Now, however, it seems like she’s caught between two instincts, like she’s debating on whether or not she should stop teasing him.
After a beat, she seems to settle on teasing—though there’s a gentle quality now—almost fond—"You sure act like one," she remarks, her tone playful yet softer now. "Fanboy."
Elyian scoffed at her, though with no real annoyance in the sound as he shook his head.
"Okay, but it's reasonable," he rebutted, rolling his eyes. "I got to meet an artist I love, she drove me around in her car, and bought me a CD?" His hands flew up in exasperation.
"I think I'm allowed to fanboy." His eyes narrowed as they got back to her car.
Her eyes are gleaming—she’s clearly enjoying this.
"Oh, I’m not saying you’re not allowed to fanboy," she quips, her smirk returning. "just saying you’re making it pretty damn obvious." She’s holding open the passenger’s door to her car, waiting for him to get in.
His eyes flickered down to the open door, the smallest hint of shock on his face overshadowed by confusion.
"You're… still driving me?" Elyian questioned with a raised brow. "Where are we going?" He stepped up to her, his hand resting on the closed window.
Billie’s expression softens, some of the mischief melting away. Now, there’s a softer look in her eyes—though the mischief is still there on the fringes.
"Well, doy,” she begins, her tone almost offended that he would even ask. "You don’t expect me to just ditch you—do you? I’m the one who dragged you here to ‘hang out’.”
She shrugs, her lips pursed. "So yeah, I’m still driving you."
A soft smile fell over Elyian’s lips, something sincere as he stepped into her car with an almost hesitance like he'd break anything he touched. Elyian's mind ran wild as the door shut, watching her cross the front of the car. He didn't expect to be hanging out with the woman he idolized.
It all felt so unreal—hazy—like a dream he's had before.
She watches him get in—clearly noticing the way he hesitantly settles into the leather upholstered seat, like any part of him would damage the interior. She slides into the driver’s seat and glances over at you with soft eyes.
"You act like you’re gonna break something just by sitting." She remarks softly. "Relax, you’re not gonna break anything, it’s just a car." She glances out the windshield, starting the engine.
He chuckled under his breath, adjusting himself to get a little more comfortable.
"I know," he smiled. "Just… polite habits." Elyian's eyes glanced forward through the windshield at the starry night sky.
His eyes flickered to Billie beside him, "Did you plan on driving the lucky person who sat next to you around all night?" He tilted his head, chuckling softly with his arm resting on the door.
Billie lets out a snort, shaking her head. "Nah." She replies, her tone still soft.
"The record store was just the first part. I just… didn’t wanna assume you’d be okay with anything past that." She meets his gaze for a moment, her expression almost shy. Then she glances back at the road, shifting the car out of park, and pulls out of the parking lot.
Something sincere washes over him, he didn't expect such hesitance from someone like her. But it was nice to know that she cared so much about her fans.
"No, I'm fine with it," Elyian smiled gently, "I'm just worried I'll pass out in your car." He teased, giggling. It was a habit of his, falling asleep in vehicles—especially the bus.
She huffs out a small laugh, rolling her eyes at your admission. "Yeah, ‘cause my car is just comfy enough to cause sudden sleep-attacks." she remarks dryly—though there’s something soft about her tone that contradicts the sarcasm.
Her eyes glance over at him, studying his face closely. "You seem tired already." she notes, her head lilting slightly.
Elyian's hand moves to cup his mouth, a yawn spilling from his lips despite trying to hold it in for the last fifteen minutes.
A soft laugh fell from him, "I wasn't expecting to do much other than see your movie…" He spoke, embarrassed as he leaned onto his arm.
God, it would be horrible if he fell asleep—to waste this moment with her.
Billie laughs softly as he tries—and fails—to hold in his yawn. There’s fondness in her eyes, like she’s not annoyed with his exhausted state. She shoots a glance in your direction, catching the moment where you lean heavily onto your arm. Her eyebrows draw together in an expression almost like concern.
"When’s the last time you slept, huh?" she asks gently, her eyes lingering on your slumped figure.
He froze, genuinely trying to remember but his brain coming up empty. It's been longer than he'd like to admit.
"Don't ask me that," he waved her off, rolling his eyes but with no bite to the expression, "Besides, it's not like I have to be up for work or anything."
His eyes glanced forwards out of her windshield, "Where are we going, anyways?" He asked, almost slurred.
She raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting a different answer.
"You do realize it’s unhealthy to go that long without actual sleep, right?" She quips dryly, though her expression is still vaguely concerned. She sighs, shaking her head slightly.
"We’re going somewhere that’s not my car." she says cryptically, her lips twisting up in a crooked smirk. She glances over at Elyian, noticing that he’s definitely falling asleep.
"You do have an apartment, right?" she asks, this time more seriously.
Elyian blinked, processing her question with just a little more effort than usual due to being on the brink of passing out.
"Uhh…" He mumbled, "Yeah, it's not far I don't think." He nodded softly, looking back over to her with heavy eyes.
He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app to "addresses" and handed it to her, one of them being labeled as "Silverlake Apartments - new place"
Billie glances down at the list, quickly committing the address to memory before handing his phone back and typing it into her GPS.
"You live alone or...?" she asks, her tone casual but her eyes flickering between you and the road—almost like she’s making sure you don’t pass out before you get there.
He nodded softly, lips tugging forward just a little bit as he blinked himself awake which seemed to be working as the heaviness in his eyes slowly faded.
"Yeah, just me." Elyian shrugged lightly, he didn't seem to have a problem with it though. "Real nice to wake up to a quiet apartment." He smiled.
She lets out a soft snort, shaking her head.
"You’ve never heard the sounds of a dog wanting to go piss at four in the morning, have you?" she remarks wryly, though her tone is still gentle, though—almost teasing. She glances at him again, her expression shifting as she sees him trying—and failing—to stay awake.
A soft chuckle fell from Elyian's lips, sitting up straight in her leather seats.
"God, Shark seems worth it though," he smiled, picturing her adorable Pitbull, "She's just a baby." He cooed. There was a fondness in his tone, memories of pets of his own past flooding back through him.
A smile spreads across Billie’s lips the moment “Shark” falls from his lips—it’s clear this conversation topic genuinely brightens her mood.
"He’s such a diva." she remarks, her tone affectionate. "A big ol’ drama king if I’m being honest." She glances over at him, her smile broadening.
"And you thought being awake for one night was long?” she teases. “I’ve been putting up with him for years."
The rest of the drive felt like mere moments before they made it to his apartment, pulling up to the building's parking lot with ease.
"Awhhh..." Elyian moaned with protest, frowning as reality crept up on the both of them. He'd have to treasure this night.
Billie lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"You sound like a kid who got woken up from a nap." she remarks, amusement in her tone. She glances in his direction, a small frown forming in the corner of her lips as she realizes her guest is going to be leaving. She sighs, shaking her head slightly.
"So this is your place, huh?" she asks casually, turning her attention back to the apartment building.
He glanced up, the familiar sight of his front door surrounded by fairylights and plants seeping back into him.
A soft laugh fell from Elyian's lips, "Yeah," he smiled, grabbing his backpack from the backseat—the keychains and pins jingling as he did. His hand moved to open the side door, his feet hitting the asphalt beneath.
Elyian paused right there, staring at the road beneath him before looking over his shoulder to Billie, "Hey..."
She watches him get out of the car, her eyes lingering on him for a little while longer than they should’ve. There’s a quiet sort of sadness starting to spread across her expression. She snaps back into focus when he calls out to her, her eyes flickering up to his.
"Yeah?" she responds, feigning nonchalance.
That soft, sincere look in her eyes made his heart flutter. He wanted to invite her in, hang out with her for a little longer, but he knew better than to ask her that.
"It was… really cool getting to hang out with you," He laughed under his breath, "Thank you for this." He said, much softer.
She nods, a small, soft smile crossing her lips.
"Of course." she replies quietly, a warmth in her tone. She watches him for a moment, her chest feeling almost… tight*. Something* on her tongue is on the verge of being said but at the last minute, she swallows whatever it was and shifts into that more nonchalant expression.
"Get some sleep—you look like absolute trash, by the way." she quips, her tone playfully dry.
He laughed softly, shaking his head before perking up and pulling his phone from his back pocket.
"Uhm—this is horribly timed," Elyian spoke nervously, "But… could I maybe get a photo with you?" He almost folded into himself, realizing how much he sounded like he just liked Billie Eilish and not her.
He spoke once again, basically interrupting himself, "I won't post it, I promise," his hands came out in defense, "I just I don't want to forget this." His voice came out much softer than he anticipated, but he didn't take it back.
Her lips quirk up in a small smirk as he stumbles over his words.
"Is the fanboy inside you finally coming out to play?" she quips, one eyebrow raising. She pauses for a beat, clearly enjoying the moment and his nervousness.
Then she nods, her eyes softening. "Yeah, we can get a picture."
Elyian smiled, sliding back into the car and opening his phone to the camera.
"Thank you," he said once again, eyes lingering on hers like they hypnotized him for a moment more before holding his phone out. His hand came up to make that old heart gesture she used to do back during her earlier eras.
Her smile widened, a slight warmth spreading through her chest. She shifted slightly so her shoulder was pressed up against his, her arm coming up to wrap around his side. She did the same heart fingers, leaning her head ever-so-slightly against his as she grinned widely into the camera.
His skin burned beneath her touch, genuinely not expecting to ever come in physical contact with the woman in his life. But before he wandered too far off, he clicked the button, etching this moment in stone.
He smiled at the photo, favoriting it before glancing back up at her, "Thank you, Billie," His voice came out softer than he thought it would, "Be safe, yeah?"
She leaned away, almost reluctantly, and turned to look at him. A softer look appeared in her eyes, almost fond, but she kept her soft smile.
She waved a dismissive hand, shaking her head slightly, "I'm always safe." Her tone is a lot more honest than usual. "But you get some sleep and you stay safe, okay?"
Elyian huffed softly, rolling his eyes but with no real bite behind it as he slipped out of her car, shutting it gently. He wanted nothing but to turn back around and say one last thing, but—that would be really stupid to do to someone who's had a lot more deranged fans than himself.
His feet had already taken him to his front door and unlocking it, turning back to her for one last wave before stepping inside.
Billie could see him through his window, flopping onto his sofa and squealing with excitement. She let out a soft huff, one that was almost amused, when he rolled his eyes.
When he finally went inside, she watched as he did a little—well, she wouldn’t call it a dance but he definitely did a little happy skip into his apartment. She chuckled, shaking her head at the antics.
God, that was adorable.
She gave one last wave before finally driving away.