Chapter Text
The last trailer fades out in a wash of artificial bass and over-dramatic voice overs, and then—black—the theater settling into that sacred, humming silence that only exists in the dark room of a theater before something begins.
Somewhere behind, a cup shifts in a holder, fabric rustles, someone coughs and then thinks better of it.
Elyian’s in the middlemost section, dead center—the best seats in-house as he insists—perfect alignment with the screen, he’d picked them deliberately. If he was going to watch the actual Billie Eilish: Hit Me Hard and Soft Tour, he was going to feel it.
His pulse is already unsteady, the darkness lingering for just a second too long.
Then, that sound—not loud at first—just a pulse, electronic. The kind of low, vibrating tone that crawls under his skin before it explodes throughout. The iconic opening sting from the Tour—distorted and electric, sharp as glass.
The theater speakers erupt, his chest tightening instantly, adrenaline firing through his veins so fast it almost hurts. The screen flickers violently, glitching—stuttering—recreating that stark, claustrophobic visual of the white box she stood in during each live performance.
Her silhouette appears from within that flashing box, the crowd in the theater gasps collectively, Elyian’s fingers gripping the armrests without even realizing.
The bass drops heavier, the flicker intensifies, the frame on screen vibrates as if the walls themselves are about to shatter open—just like the real stage design from the tour.
The light from the screen flares bright enough to spill into the audience causing his eyes to flicker to each side of him instinctively. Elyian’s seat neighbors are illuminated in cold, flashing white and black—his stomach drops.
She looks… familiar—too familiar…
His eyes widen before he can stop them, his heart slamming so hard he’s sure she can hear it over the speakers. The light flickers again, strobes across her face in fragments—cheekbone, jawline, the curve of her lips, the fall of her hair beside her eyes.
His gaze drags slowly upward, her shoulders, her eyes, the curve of her nose, the clothes she’s wearing—effortlessly put together, layered like she didn’t just throw them on, like she knows how she looks under flashing lights.
No…
There’s no way…
His breathing goes shallow. The screen explodes into the opening visual of Billie Eilish, standing tall on that box as the crowd in the film screams along with the theater itself—but the noise feels distant now, muffled, like he’s underwater in some hazy dream he’s had before.
Because he’s staring.
And she’s staring back.
Elyian is frozen, his eyes entirely fixated onto her like he's in a trance, flickering across her features. The music doesn't help, it just makes it feel less real, like he's dreaming, like he's imagining things, and it feels like he's ascending with the music...
The backing vocals hit and echo through the speakers, his heart thumping almost in rhythm with the intense flashing lights of the stage box, the stadium now entirely in-view onscreen. He's afraid to speak, to move, to breathe.
Because what if he is dreaming?
It's all a haze until the intro halts, that first exhale snare of CHIHIRO now playing through the speakers and drawing a giggle out of Billie, snapping him out of his fear of moving.
His mouth rests quietly open, like he wants to say something but he doesn't know what, scared to say the wrong thing and she'll give him a look—as if she isn't one of the kindest and most humble people towards her fans.
She's still looking at him—staring.
It's clear she knows he’s staring too. But not in a way that would make her uncomfortable—almost as if she’s waiting for him to say something.
Her dark eyes don't leave his face as the concert proceeds on-screen. He’s seen these videos a million times before but right now it feels entirely different.
She's not an untouchable idol on some high definition screen.
She's right next to him—she's real, right here.
Elyian finally notices how close they physically are, feeling the heat of her skin radiating off of her as their arms sit centimeters away on their own armrests.
He finally speaks up. "I—” He chokes out, "Hi..." He lets out a nervous laugh, more of a sharp exhale, but at least he can breathe now.
Billie smiles. It's not that same megawatt, picture-perfect, red carpet kind of smile you see in the tabloids. It's soft and natural, curving her mouth upwards in a quiet way that almost makes her look coy.
"Hi." The word sounds even more intimate coming from her in real life as opposed to a recording. Her voice is deeper, richer, with a slight rasp underlying that one delicate syllable.
His eyes are still blown wide, flickering across the features of her face, just slightly more relaxed now.
"I'm... Elyian." He reaches his opposing hand for a handshake, the light from the theater screen allowing her to see just how much he's shaking right now.
Billie accepts his gesture and he feels the warmth of her fingers against his skin as her fingers curl around his hand. She shakes with a gentle grip that sends a jolt of electricity through his entire arm.
Up close, she's effortlessly beautiful. There are very few people in this world that look exactly like their photos, but the woman sitting next to him is Billie Eilish. He’s seen her image plastered across billboards, in magazine spreads, in concert videos and none of it captures her fully.
"Elyian…" She repeats softly, as if she's testing how his name fits on her tongue.
He finally exhales, his frame visibly lowering as his posture relaxes to its normal—horrible—position, though he still sits taller than her. His eyes gaze into hers, those iconic, unforgettable ocean eyes that fans can instantly recognize as hers.
"It's... an honor to meet you in person." A crooked smile tugs at his lips, eyes peering over the 3D glasses layered over his actual frames to see her a little better up close.
Billie’s gaze drifts over his face, taking in his silver lenses, his messy dark curls, lingering on his smile for just a beat before returning to his eyes.
"The honor's all mine." There's a small spark of amusement in Billie's eyes, like she's secretly laughing at how nervous he is—but it's not mean or mocking, it's more affectionate than anything.
She leans more comfortably into her seat, crossing one leg over the other. "You don't have to be so nervous, you know?"
Elyian’s eyes drag up her frame before suddenly flicking up to her meet hers, he didn't want to seem like those fans... especially right now—this priceless moment. He cleared his throat, tugging at his shirt which was ironically a piece of her merch along with... literally the rest of his outfit, "I mean- It's reasonable to be, no?" He chuckles.
A small smirk pulls at the side of her mouth as her gaze drifts down to her newer logo printed on his chest. She quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused at the fact he’s wearing her own merch.
"Fair point," She admits, tilting her head. "But I promise I'm not going to bite you."
Billie pauses for a beat, the smirk still on her face as she drops to a pitch just above a whisper, "Unless you want me to." The last part is clearly a tease.
Elyian's lips press into a thin line, holding back a smile as his face turns a dark shade of red, eyes flickering from each of her eyes and then down to his lap in shame. He laughs nervously, unsure of how to respond to the literal celebrity.
"That's some crazy shit to say." He let out a sharp exhale—almost a laugh—becoming the slightest bit more comfortable with her in person. "Well, I should probably be watching your movie, I did pay for it…”
She grins, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "yeah, you should probably be paying attention." She nods towards the screen. "I'd hate to be a distraction." There's that smirk again—she's very clearly enjoying this.
He turns to her once again, tilting his head a nudge. "You're not a bother, it's not like I haven't listened to the tour tracklist a hundred times when it came out."
It was true, he'd listened to all of her songs, knowing basically all the lyrics to each one, and it's not like their conversation was any nuisance to the rest of the theater, they were screaming the lyrics, dancing, laughing, and just being her fans.
Billie grins, clearly entertained by his confession that he’s a total fan boy. "Oh, so you're a super fan, huh? How many times did you see the concert then, fanboy?" Her eyes glimmer with curiosity. She clearly enjoys talking to someone who isn't going to freak out or treat her like a goddess. It's just two people having an real conversation.
Elyian’s eyes widen at "fanboy," his mouth opens to defend himself but his brain registers to answers her question first.
"Woah—well... I was going to see you in Atlanta, but tickets were sold out. I had the money, a ride, and I didn't mind going by myself." He looked down, nervous and a little sad before perking up again.
"But I was stoked about the movie so I could experience something as close to one of your tours as possible."
Billie's expression softens at his story. "Aw," She frowns a little, genuinely looking sorry for him.
"That sucks. I hate when that happens... scalpers are the worst." She reaches across the rest between them, placing a hand gently on his upper arm.
"But hey, at least you get to see this movie, right?" There's a touch of sympathy in her eyes, but it quickly morphs back into that mischievous gleam. "And you got to sit next to me. I'd say that's a plus."
He almost pulls away, afraid of even touching her, but he keeps still and giggles, his frame lightening with a smile baring his teeth,
"Definitely a plus." He nodded his head towards her, his smile down-turning into something genuine.
Billie grins, enjoying the way his entire demeanor is changing as Elyian relaxes around her. "I mean, how often do you get to sit next to an international superstar?" She says the last part with an exaggerated sense of dramatics that she immediately ruins by bursting into giggles.
She shakes her head and laughs at herself, clearly amused at her own silliness.
"Sorry," she chuckles lightly . "Can't help but play it up a little." Her laugh is absolutely contagious, melting into Elyian as his smile widens.
"No I get it, I totally would if I was as well-known as you." He tried keeping his cool, his thoughts colliding where her hand rested on his arm, the warmth of her skin seeping beneath his shirt and onto his skin before she pulled away, and trying to keep as casual as he could.
He only assumed she hated the word "famous," mostly because of the lyrics in her songs nudging towards the downsides of fame. But he didn’t press that question.
She laughs again, clearly getting a kick out of his attempt to act so chill, but she can see right through it. Her eyes gleam with amusement.
"You don't have to pretend, you know. I can tell you're totally freaking out." She smirks, genuinely playful. "It's cute."
There's that word again. Cute. It makes something warm flare up in his stomach, despite how simple the word is. His hand shoots up to his mouth, covering that flustered smile and playing it off as wiping his face. He giggled again, breaking eye contact just for a moment before reconnecting it.
"Are you always this flirty with your fans?" He asked, the back of his mind referencing how she mentioned she does fall in love with some fans. He brushes it off, no fucking way she'd try him...
"Only the cute ones." Billie shoots back without missing a beat. Her eyes flicker across his face—lit up by the big screen before them—a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She can't help it—he’s just so easy to tease.
As if the universe predicted that sentence leaving her mouth, the speakers had ended CHIHIRO and faded seamlessly into LUNCH, drawing a laugh from Elyian from the irony of it all, still blushing relentlessly.
Billie laughs along with him, bopping her head at the perfectly timed soundtrack—it's like the universe itself is trying to set the mood for this unexpected moment.
She shifts in her seat, turning to face him almost fully now, her knee resting against the armrest. She props an elbow on it and props her chin in her hand, her gaze glued to his red face.
"You blush so easily." She comments, her voice low and amused. "It's like your face is a mood ring—I could say anything and it'll change color."
Elyian perks up, offended in a very flustered way. His mouth opens to defend himself but he can only stutter out the beginning of 5 sentences, finishing neither of them.
He finally brings himself to words, hands splaying out in an almost balancing way, "OKAY—that was an insane line."
The theater is much louder now since one of her more popular songs plays, the room echoing with the sounds of teens screaming lyrics and thumping from people dancing and jumping around.
She grins as he sputters and fumbles over his words, finding his flustered reaction absolutely endearing. When he finally manages to speak, she laughs, shaking her head. "What can I say? I'm full of insane lines."
Billie glances around the theater, taking in the energy of the room around them. The excitement in the air is electric—everyone is pumped for her music, the sound of the crowd making her smile even wider.
She turns her gaze back to him, a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes. "You wanna see some real insanity?"
Elyian’s head tilts, thoughts racing with every possibility—most of them wildly unrealistic—as his eyes stare into hers. "And… what would that be?”
She leans in slightly, just enough that the flickering light from the screen catches the glint of mischief in her eyes, "How about... we skip the rest of this movie?" Her voice drops to a whisper, playful.
"I mean, you've heard it all before, right? And I might have a backstage pass to something way more fun." She's teasing—obviously—but there's just enough ambiguity in her tone to make his heart stop for half a beat. Then she exhales quiet laughter at his expression.
"Relax. I'm not kidnapping you—but seriously," she says, settling back with a grin, "You’d probably get arrested trying to sneak out with me anyway."
Elyian giggles, his thoughts racing a lot more now, the unrealistic suddenly becoming realistic. His eyes turn to the screen, the outro for LUNCH playing as the crowd settles, "Wait. NDA is next, can we stay for this one at least?" He smiles, asking as if she'd deny him and drag him out of the theater.
Billie lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smirk. "Fine, fine—we'll stay for NDA. For you." Billie adjusts her sleeve, pulling it down just slightly over her wrist. "But only because I know how much fans love this one."
The opening notes of NDA begin to play—moody, intimate—and suddenly the theater feels a little smaller than before. Billie doesn’t look at the screen. Just keeps her eyes on Elyian until the first chorus hits.
The beat drops, lyrics hitting with each drum. Elyian's leg bouncing with each thump and fingers tapping away at his thigh for every sound, palm hitting in tandem with his thigh. He's singing along, pitch matching hers almost identically—probably from listening to her music so much.
The first chorus hits, softer and more held back than the second. He remembers her tone, her rhythm, every note.
Then the second verse, then the second chorus where Billie sung louder. He mimics the Billie onscreen, her mic pressed against her lips, lights flashing onstage with every thrum, his belts the outro with her—his favorite part—until the final beat.
She's impressed. Watching him sing along, matching her rhythm effortlessly, mimicking her notes with ease—it's cute. But it's the passion, that fire, that really makes her stop and take notice. He sings like he feels the music, like it's a part of him—which she can relate to more than most.
Then the outro hits, and there he is, belting out the final few notes along with her like he’s on stage. She laughs again, quieter, genuinely amused and maybe a little awed.
He turns back to Billie, a smile strewn across his face—nervous—almost waiting for approval, he hates singing in front of people, but the loud screaming of fans within the theater seemed to help.
A beat of silence is shared between them as the outro blended into Therefore I Am, "So...” He trailed off, “where did you want to take me again..?" A light giggle of nervousness fell from his lips.
She grins, enjoying the anxious energy radiating off of his skin. It's cute in a different way now if she's honest. She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, you know... just backstage. Somewhere quiet, away from all these screaming fans." Billie glances out at the crowd, who are now singing along to the music as the screens transition through various camera angles of the stage.
She returns her gaze to him, eyes smoldering."Somewhere less... public."
Elyian's face flushes red, more subtle this time as he's grown a little used to her teasing, but still flustered nonetheless. His eyes flicker to the screen and to the oblivious fans around the two before returning to hers.
"Oh? Well then, by all means, lead the way." His hands gesture outward towards the stairs, his opposite grabbing his backpack, littered with pins and keychains with a soft jingle—a good handful being of her, some DIY.
She smirks at his enthusiasm, eyes flickering to his backpack for just a second—those pins catching her attention—before she leans in slightly, voice low and conspiratorial. "Just follow my lead," she murmurs, "and try not to freak out too much when people realize who you're walking out with."
Billie shot a wink at him before she rises from her seat smoothly—graceful, effortless—before offering him her hand with a playful little smirk.
"Ready?" The screen lights up her face in flashes—pink, blue, gold—as the crowd erupts into another song.
And he realizes… this is happening—she is happening. Right now.
Elyian takes it, barely being able to cherish the moment of touching her before she tugs—he tugs back.
"Wait." He pauses, reaching into the side part of his backpack and pulls out a mask, a recreation and probably knockoff of her Gucci mask that she wore at the 2020 Grammy Awards.
It was see-through, but the black fabric was enough to cover her face in a dark theater. "I... don't want to take any chances of paparazzi..."
Billie blinks—a little stunned—as he pulled out the mask. Then, after a brief pause, she laughs, soft and delighted.
"You have my Grammy mask?!" Her eyes flicker between the fabric and his face, utterly charmed.
Then she plucks it from his fingers with a smirk. "Guess I am kidnapping you now." She slips it on in one smooth motion—the mesh stretching over her features, distorting them just enough—before grabbing his hand again.
"This way." And then—they’re moving down the aisle past oblivious fans and toward the exit.
Her fingers stay tangled with Elyian’s the whole time.