Of Starlight and Skin

by Ihavenoideawhatimdoingherelachimolala

Summary:

The moment their eyes met, Juliette felt the universe shift.

A slow, burning warmth spread across her wrist—her soulmate mark turning black. She barely had time to process it before Billie Eilish, the Billie Eilish, inhaled sharply, her ocean blue eyes widening in shock.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

Juliette stumbled back, her heart slamming against her ribs as if trying to escape. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She was just another face in the crowd, another fan in the thousands who adored Billie from afar. But fate didn’t care for logic.

Billie took a step closer, her own wrist trembling as she turned it over, confirming the darkened mark. Her lips parted, breath unsteady.

“It’s you,” Billie whispered.

Juliette’s hands shook. “I—this isn’t—I mean, you can’t be—”

Billie’s smile was small, almost hesitant, but her eyes never left Juliette’s. “I think we are.”

The noise of the world faded—the flashing cameras, the distant screams, the hum of the arena—all drowned out by the undeniable truth.

They had found each other.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

Notes:

First time writer here!
I have no idea what I’m doing honestly. I just wanted some wholesome Billie Eilish content to read and there wasn’t much so here i am.
Hope it’s not too bad🥲

Chapter 1: The Final Note

Chapter 1: The Final Note

Billie

The roar of the crowd vibrates through my bones, a tidal wave of voices crashing together in an overwhelming, electric chorus. London always goes hard, but tonight feels different. Bigger.

I push my damp hair back, catching my breath as the last note of Happier Than Ever fades into the arena. Sweat clings to my skin, my heart pounding in sync with the bass still thrumming beneath my feet. The energy in the O2 is insane.

“Thank you, London!” My voice rings out, barely audible over the screaming fans. My chest heaves, and I can’t help but grin. This is what I live for. This connection, this moment, this—

And then I see her.

A flash of dark curls, deep brown eyes wide like she’s caught in a dream. She’s standing near the barricade, half-hidden behind the sea of people, but it doesn’t matter. Time lurches to a stop. My breath catches.

My soulmate mark burns.

Heat rushes up my arm, spreading from my wrist to my fingertips, like ink seeping under my skin. The swirling, faded lines I’ve had since birth darken—turning black.

It’s her.

My chest tightens, my pulse hammering against my ribs. I barely register the deafening roar of the crowd, the confetti exploding into the air. The world is still moving—but I’m stuck. Frozen.

And she looks just as terrified as I feel.

Chapter 2: Eyes that Burn

Chapter 2: Eyes That Burn

Juliette

This isn’t happening.

I can’t breathe. The air is thick, buzzing with the echoes of Billie’s final note, but all I can hear is the deafening rush of blood in my ears. My fingers grip the edge of the barricade so tight that I swear my nails might snap off.

She’s looking at me.

Not just looking—frozen, staring, like she’s just seen a ghost. Or, you know, like her soulmate mark just turned black in the middle of the O2 arena with thousands of people screaming her name.

I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t do anything except exist in this surreal, impossible moment.

The heat crawling up my arm confirms what my brain is refusing to process. My own soulmate mark—one I’d given up on long ago—is burning. I don’t need to look down to know. It’s black now, just like hers.

Billie Eilish. My Billie Eilish.

No. No, not my Billie Eilish. Just Billie. The same Billie whose songs have pulled me back from the edge too many times to count. The same Billie whose voice has been the only thing anchoring me on my worst nights. The same Billie who is currently standing on a stage, gaping at me like the universe just punched her in the gut.

She’s my soulmate.

I feel sick.

“Jules?”

The voice barely cuts through the static in my head. I blink, my breath shuddering as my best friend, Amara, nudges me hard in the ribs. “Jules, what’s wrong?” she hisses. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I am. I think I actually might.

Because Billie Eilish—Grammy-winning, world-touring, ridiculously beautiful Billie Eilish—just took a step forward.

And she’s still looking at me.

Billie

My heart is pounding.

She looks like she’s about to bolt.

I can barely think past the roaring in my ears. My body is moving before my mind catches up—one step forward, then another, until I’m at the very edge of the stage. Security shifts uneasily nearby, but they don’t stop me. How could they? I can’t stop myself.

Her eyes are wide—deep brown pools of panic. Beautiful. Shining. Familiar in a way I can’t explain.

She’s my soulmate.

It should be impossible. It is impossible. But I feel it in my bones, in the mark burning on my wrist, in the way my breath won’t settle because—she’s real.

And she looks absolutely terrified.

I drop to a crouch at the edge of the stage, my mic still in hand. The crowd is screaming, but it barely registers. My entire world has narrowed down to her.

“What’s your name?” I don’t even realize I’ve spoken until I hear my own voice echo through the speakers.

Her breath hitches. Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.

The mark on my wrist throbs. She has to feel it too.

“Jules, tell her your name!” A girl beside her shakes her arm, practically vibrating with excitement.

She swallows hard. “J-Juliette,” she finally breathes, her voice barely audible over the crowd.

Juliette.

I feel her name.

Like the last puzzle piece snapping into place.

And then, before I can say anything else, before I can even breathe, her legs buckle.

And she starts to fall.

Chapter 3: Falling

Chapter 3: Falling

JULIETTE

I’m going to faint.

Not in the cute, dramatic way you see in movies, where the heroine sways gracefully and gets caught just in time. No—this is the real, horrible kind of fainting, where my vision tunnels and my knees turn to jelly and I know, with absolute certainty, that I am about to hit the floor.

I distantly hear Amara shriek my name, but the noise is muffled, drowned out by the ringing in my ears. My body isn’t listening to me anymore. I’m lightheaded, the heat of my soulmate mark overwhelming, my chest tight and aching because—this is too much.

This isn’t how I was supposed to meet my soulmate. This isn’t supposed to be Billie Eilish.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is her.

She’s moving. Reaching for me.

BILLIE

She’s falling.

“Shit—” My mic tumbles from my hand as I jump off the stage.

Security is already moving, but I don’t care—I don’t even think. My heart is in my throat as I push past the barricade, the screaming crowd turning into nothing but white noise.

I catch her just before she hits the ground.

She’s so small in my arms, her body trembling even as she slumps against me. Her curls tickle my chin, and up close, I can see the freckles dusting her light brown skin. Her breathing is uneven, her fingers twitching where they rest against my shoulder.

“Hey,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Stay with me, Juliette.”

She doesn’t respond.

I turn to the security team. “We need to get her somewhere quiet. Now.”

The head of security hesitates. “Billie—”

“I’m not leaving her here.” My tone is firm, no room for argument.

He exhales sharply but nods, signaling to the others. Within seconds, they’re clearing a path, and I tighten my hold on Juliette as we move toward the backstage area.

My soulmate.

I don’t even know her, but I’ve never felt more protective of anyone in my life.

And I don’t even know where to begin.

Chapter 4: Somewhere Quiet

Chapter 4: Somewhere Quiet

JULIETTE

Warmth.

That’s the first thing I register as I slowly come back to consciousness. A steady, grounding warmth cradles me, and for a second, I think I’m still dreaming.

Then I hear voices.

“…Is she okay?”

“I think she just passed out. Probably overwhelmed.”

The second voice is closer. Softer. Familiar.

I force my eyes open. The world swims before me, blurry and dim, but then—her face comes into focus.

Billie Eilish is holding me.

Nope. Absolutely not.

I jolt upright so fast that I nearly headbutt her. “Oh my God!”

Her arms drop instantly, and I tumble onto what I now realize is a couch. My heart is slamming against my ribs, my breathing ragged as I take in my surroundings. We’re in a dressing room—dim lighting, a vanity mirror glowing against the wall, half-empty water bottles scattered across the counter.

And Billie is right there, sitting beside me, looking concerned and way too close for my sanity to handle.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she says, holding her hands up like I’m some kind of frightened animal. (Not inaccurate.)

Okay? Okay?

I just passed out in the middle of her concert. She caught me. I woke up in her arms.

And now she’s sitting inches away, looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.

I let out a sound that is definitely not human.

BILLIE

She’s freaking out.

I don’t blame her. Honestly, I might be freaking out more.

I just carried my soulmate offstage. My mark turned black in front of thousands of people. Every camera in that arena probably caught it.

And now she’s here, in my dressing room, staring at me like I just shattered reality.

“Are you okay?” I ask carefully.

She blinks at me. Once. Twice. Then, finally—

“This is a joke,” she whispers. “A very elaborate, very cruel joke.”

I frown. “What?”

Juliette shakes her head, curling in on herself. “This—this doesn’t make sense,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “You’re Billie Eilish. And I’m just… me.”

I feel a tug in my chest.

“You’re Juliette,” I say quietly.

She looks up, startled. Like she didn’t expect me to say her name. Like it means something to her.

And somehow, I already know—it does.

Chapter 5: The Weight of a Name

Chapter 5: The Weight of a Name

JULIETTE

You’re Juliette.

The way she says my name—it does something to me. It shouldn’t. It can’t. But it does.

Like she’s tasting it. Like it belongs to her now.

My fingers twitch against the fabric of my jeans, my breathing still unsteady. “You—” My voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know me.”

Billie leans back slightly, studying me. “I know what matters.”

I stare at her. “And what exactly matters?”

She shrugs, but there’s something deliberate about it. “That my wrist burned the second I looked at you.” Her voice is softer now, careful. “That yours did too.”

I press my lips together, my stomach twisting. She’s right, of course. I felt it—the sharp, searing heat when our eyes met, the instant blackening of my soulmate mark.

I still haven’t looked at it.

I don’t want to look at it.

Because once I do, this stops being a fever dream. It becomes real.

And reality is terrifying.

I shake my head. “This can’t—” I cut myself off, inhaling shakily. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Billie’s gaze flickers, something shifting in her expression. “Because I’m famous?”

I wince, but I don’t deny it.

Her lips press together. For a second, she just watches me. Then she exhales, rubbing a hand over her face. “Do you think I expected this?” Her laugh is breathless, almost disbelieving. “I was on stage, Juliette. In the middle of a song. And then—” She breaks off, shaking her head. “Then I saw you.”

I hate the way my chest tightens at that.

I hate the way she says you like it means something. Like I mean something.

I curl my arms around myself. “I can’t be your soulmate.”

“Why not?”

Because you’re you, and I’m just a girl who listens to your music alone in her bedroom. Because I’ve spent years looking up to you, admiring you from afar, thinking of you as someone untouchable—and now you’re here, looking at me like I belong to you.

I can’t say any of that.

So I just whisper, “Because I don’t deserve to be.”

Billie goes very still.

For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of voices outside the dressing room.

Then she speaks, quiet but firm. “That’s not how this works.”

I blink.

She leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “You don’t get to decide that you’re unworthy of me,” she says. “And I don’t get to decide that I’m unworthy of you.”

I suck in a breath.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, Juliette. Doesn’t matter who you are.” Her gaze softens. “The universe already decided.”

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Billie reaches for my hand.

Her fingers hover just above mine—hesitating, like she’s waiting for permission. Like she knows I’m on the verge of losing it.

I should pull away.

I don’t.

Instead, I stare at her hand, my pulse hammering, my soulmate mark burning under my sleeve.

And before I can stop myself—I turn my wrist over.

The mark is there, clear as day. Black as ink.

Permanent.

Undeniable.

Real.

I feel Billie’s breath hitch beside me.

And I finally understand—there’s no running from this.

Chapter 6: No Running

Chapter 6: No Running

BILLIE

She stares at her wrist like it’s a death sentence.

My chest tightens.

I don’t know what I expected when she finally looked at her mark, but it wasn’t this—this absolute stillness, like she’s waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

“Juliette,” I say softly.

She doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

And I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach out—slowly, carefully—and brush my fingers over her wrist, tracing the blackened mark.

She flinches.

I yank my hand back instantly, a sharp pang of guilt hitting me. “Sorry—”

“No, I just—” Her breath comes out shaky, and for the first time since she woke up, she looks at me. Really looks at me. Her brown eyes are huge, wide with something I can’t quite place—fear? Awe? A mix of both?

It wrecks me.

I’m used to people looking at me. It comes with the job. But this is different. She’s different.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper.

I exhale. “Me neither.”

She lets out a laugh—small, disbelieving. “Right. Because you’re totally new to attention and pressure.”

The sarcasm in her voice is obvious, but underneath it, I hear something else.

Something self-deprecating.

I frown. “That’s not what I meant.”

She gives me a tight smile. “Billie, I’m a college student who lives in London. You’re a global superstar. This—” She gestures vaguely between us. “This isn’t normal.”

“I know,” I say honestly.

I do know. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since I saw her. Since I felt the burn of the mark. Since I watched her pass out in my arms.

None of this is normal.

But when I look at her, when I feel this pull in my chest, I know that normal doesn’t matter anymore.

“What if I ruin this for you?” she asks suddenly, so quietly I almost miss it.

My breath catches. “What?”

She bites her lip, looking away. “Your life is already complicated. If people find out about me—” She hesitates. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

And there it is.

That crushing, anxious doubt.

I don’t even know her yet, but I hate that she feels this way.

“Juliette,” I say, waiting until she looks at me again. “You’re my soulmate.” The words feel strange on my tongue, unreal—but true. “You’re not ruining anything.”

She swallows. “You don’t know that.”

I hold her gaze. “I know enough.”

A beat of silence passes.

And then, carefully, I reach for her hand again.

She tenses—but this time, she doesn’t pull away.

My fingers brush over hers, just barely. Enough to feel the warmth of her skin. Enough to feel the shiver that runs through her.

It’s terrifying. It’s overwhelming.

It’s inevitable.

“There’s no running from this, Julie,” I murmur.

She exhales shakily.

And then, finally—she nods.

Chapter 7: Julie

Chapter 7: Julie

JULIETTE

Julie.

She calls me Julie.

I don’t correct her.

I should. I should tell her that no one calls me that, that it feels too intimate, too personal, too much like something that belongs only to her.

But the truth is, I don’t hate it.

And that might be the scariest thing of all.

I stare down at our hands—her fingers barely brushing mine. My wrist still burns from the mark, my pulse still uneven.

“This is insane,” I whisper.

Billie tilts her head slightly. “Yeah?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “We met, like, ten minutes ago.”

She huffs out a soft laugh, but there’s something thoughtful in her expression. “Feels longer.”

I blink at her. “Because of the soulmate thing?”

She shrugs. “I guess. But also…” She trails off, studying me like she’s trying to figure me out.

Like I’m something worth figuring out.

I don’t know what to do with that.

I look away, pulling my hand back. “I still don’t get it.”

Billie watches me for a moment, then leans back against the couch. “What don’t you get?”

“Everything,” I say honestly.

She hums. “Be specific.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why me?”

Her brows furrow slightly. “What do you mean?”

I exhale, frustrated with myself. “I mean, you could’ve gotten anyone. Anyone at all. Another singer, an actress, a model—someone who actually understands your world. But instead, you got…” I gesture at myself. “A random university student who panicked and passed out the second she saw you.”

Her lips twitch like she’s fighting back a smile. “You were unconscious for, like, ten seconds.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I grumble. “Still embarrassing.”

“Not really.”

I scoff. “Oh, come on.”

She shakes her head, suddenly serious. “I don’t think you get it, Julie.”

I freeze.

The way she says it—like she’s testing it out, getting used to it—makes my stomach flip.

I shake it off. “Get what?”

Billie hesitates, then sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I could’ve met anyone, sure. But I met you.”

I swallow. “That doesn’t mean I’m good for you.”

She frowns. “And why wouldn’t you be?”

“Because I—” I break off, shaking my head. “I have anxiety, Billie. Really bad anxiety. You live under a microscope. Your life is in the spotlight every second of every day. I don’t fit into that.”

She doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at me—really looks at me. And I hate it, because I know she sees everything.

She sees my nerves, my self-doubt, my fear.

And it doesn’t scare her.

If anything, she looks… determined.

“You don’t have to fit into it,” she says finally. “We figure it out together.”

I exhale shakily. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But it’s not impossible either.”

I chew on my lip, staring at the floor. “And what happens when people find out?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Then they find out.”

I blink at her. “Just like that?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Just like that.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Billie, you do realize what’ll happen, right? The second someone sees us together, there’ll be articles. Rumors. People digging into my life, my past—”

“Then we deal with it.”

“You say that like it’s simple.”

“It’s not,” she admits. “But neither is ignoring this.”

I open my mouth to argue, but—what’s the point?

She’s right.

Even now, even as my mind screams at me to run, I can feel it—the pull. The unshakable certainty that she’s mine, and I’m hers, and that no matter how much I fight it, this is already written into the universe.

And I don’t know how to handle that.

Billie sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, I get that this is a lot. I do. And I’m not saying we have to figure everything out right now.”

I glance up at her. “Then what are you saying?”

She meets my gaze, her voice soft. “I’m saying… let’s start with one step at a time.”

I hesitate.

Then, finally—I nod.

Chapter 8: Just One Step

Chapter 8: Just One Step

BILLIE

Since we got to her place, the silence had been weird. Both of us too lost in our thoughts to say anything. She offered me some tea and honestly, I was parched from singing for hours so I accepted it.

Whiles nursing our tea, we tried to make small talk but I could tell she was a bit nervous so I stopped and let the silence continue.

“Are you okay?” I can’t help ask when I notice her fidgeting.

She nods.

And for a second, I just sit there, letting it sink in.

She’s scared. I see it in the way she fidgets, in the way she refuses to meet my eyes for too long. But despite all of that—despite every anxious thought that’s probably racing through her head—she’s still here.

She’s still willing to try.

Something about that makes my chest feel too tight.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “One step at a time.”

Juliette exhales, like she’s been holding her breath this whole time.

I watch her for a moment, then gesture at her empty tea cup. “You want another?”

She blinks, like she wasn’t expecting the sudden shift. “What?”

“Tea,” I say, standing up. “You want some?”

She hesitates. “Uh… sure?”

I smile. “Cool. Come on, then.”

She stares at me, clearly confused. “You want me to come with you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Unless you wanna sit here alone and overthink for the next five minutes?”

She makes a face. “That’s unfair.”

I grin. “And yet, here you are, still sitting.”

She mutters something under her breath but stands up anyway, following me into the kitchen.

The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from under the cabinets. It’s quiet, too, just the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the floorboards under our feet.

I grab the kettle and fill it with water, glancing at Juliette as I set it on the stove. She’s standing awkwardly by the counter, arms crossed like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

I smirk. “You act like I’m about to interrogate you.”

She gives me a dry look. “You kinda already did.”

I chuckle, leaning against the counter. “Fair. But in my defense, you’re a mystery.”

She snorts. “I’m really not.”

“You kinda are.” I tilt my head. “You’re my soulmate, and I don’t know anything about you.”

She shifts on her feet. “That’s not true.”

“Okay, then tell me something.”

She hesitates.

I wait.

Then, finally—she sighs.

“I paint,” she mumbles.

I perk up. “Yeah?”

She nods, avoiding my gaze. “I mean, I draw too, but painting is my favorite.”

I grin. “That’s sick. What do you paint?”

She shrugs. “Depends on my mood. But mostly people.”

Something about the way she says it makes me pause. “People?”

She bites her lip. “Yeah.”

I narrow my eyes. “Anyone specific?”

She hesitates.

And that’s when it clicks.

A slow, knowing smile spreads across my face.

“Julie,” I say, voice teasing.

She glares at me. “Don’t.”

I laugh. “Oh, no way. Do you—” I gesture to myself. “—paint me?”

She groans, covering her face. “I hate you.”

I cackle, fully enjoying this. “Oh my god, you do.”

She mumbles something that sounds a lot like I regret everything, which just makes me laugh harder.

I don’t know why this makes me so happy. Maybe it’s the fact that even before we knew each other, she already had me in her world.

Already made me a part of it.

The thought sends a weird, warm feeling through my chest.

I don’t push her further, though. Instead, I turn back to the stove, watching as the water starts to heat up. The room falls into a comfortable silence.

After a moment, Juliette speaks up.

“You’re handling this really well.”

I glance at her. “What, the whole soulmate thing?”

She nods.

I shrug. “I mean, what else can I do?”

She frowns. “I don’t know. Freak out? Run away? Pretend it’s not real?”

I smirk. “Sounds like you’re projecting.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious.”

I exhale, tapping my fingers against the counter. “Look, I won’t lie—I wasn’t expecting this. Like, at all. But the second I saw you, I just…” I shake my head, searching for the right words. “It felt right.”

She watches me carefully. “Even though you don’t know me?”

I meet her gaze. “I know enough.”

Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that answer.

I don’t push. I let the moment settle between us, warm and quiet.

The kettle starts to whistle, breaking the silence.

I turn off the stove and grab two mugs, sliding one toward her. “Alright, tea expert. What’s your order?”

She snorts. “Tea expert?”

I nod. “You’re British. That automatically makes you an expert.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “That’s not how it works.”

“Too late, already decided.” I gesture at the selection of tea bags. “Choose wisely, Julie.”

She mutters something about me being ridiculous but grabs a chamomile tea bag anyway. I make myself a green tea, then we both lean against the counter, sipping in silence.

It’s… nice.

Simple.

A moment of normalcy in something that’s anything but normal.

After a while, Juliette speaks up again.

“What happens now?” she asks quietly.

I glance at her, thinking.

Then, I offer her a small smile.

“One step at a time,” I remind her.

She exhales. Then—she nods.

And for the first time since this all started, she looks like she actually believes it.

Chapter 9: A Painting of Us

Chapter 9: A Painting of Us

JULIETTE

I stare at my tea, fingers curled around the mug.

I paint people.

I paint Billie.

She knows.

And now she won’t stop smirking.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I grumble.

Billie grins, sipping her tea. “Oh, absolutely.”

I glare at her, but she just looks smug.

“You could at least pretend to be normal about it,” I mutter.

“Why?” She tilts her head. “It’s cute.”

My soul nearly leaves my body.

I grip my mug tighter, willing my face not to explode into flames. “It’s not cute,” I mumble. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why?” she asks again, this time genuinely curious.

I open my mouth, then close it. Because what am I supposed to say? That I’ve spent years painting her face, tracing every detail, trying to capture something that felt so out of reach?

That every brushstroke was a wish, and now that wish is standing in my kitchen, drinking tea like it’s normal?

It’s not normal.

It’s Billie Eilish.

And she’s my soulmate.

The thought makes my stomach twist.

I set my tea down, running a hand through my curls. “I don’t know. I just—” I hesitate. “I never thought I’d actually meet you. And now that I have, it just… it doesn’t feel real.”

Billie watches me for a long moment. “It’s real, Julie.”

I flinch at the nickname. It hits differently coming from her, softer, more personal.

I chew on my lip. “I just don’t get it. Why me?”

Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

I know I’ve brought this up before and by the look on her face, she’s probably thinking the same thing but I honestly still can’t believe it.
It feels like something from a fanfiction.

I let out a sharp laugh. “Billie, come on. You could’ve had anyone. You’re—” I gesture vaguely. “You. And I’m just…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. Some anxious art student with an overactive imagination?”

Her expression darkens. “Don’t do that.”

I blink. “Do what?”

She sets her tea down and steps closer. “Talk about yourself like that. Like you’re not enough.”

I swallow. “But—”

“No ‘buts.’” Her voice is firm. “You’re my soulmate. That means something. And if the universe thinks we belong together, who am I to argue?”

I stare at her, heart pounding.

She says it so easily. Like it’s not terrifying. Like it’s not everything.

I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t.

Instead, I grab my tea again, sipping slowly. Billie lets out a breath and leans back against the counter, watching me with something unreadable in her eyes.

“So,” she says after a moment, “how many paintings of me are we talking about?”

I nearly choke.

“Billie!”

She bursts into laughter, absolutely thriving off my suffering.

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

I peek at her through my fingers. “I might.”

She smirks. “Okay, but seriously—how many?”

I groan louder. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because!” She shrugs. “I think it’s cool.”

“You think it’s weird.”

“I really don’t.”

I shoot her a look.

She grins. “Okay, maybe a little. But in a cute way.”

I drop my hands, glaring at her. “You have issues.”

She just laughs again, and despite myself, I feel my lips twitch.

I hate that she makes it easy. That even when my thoughts are spiraling, she somehow pulls me back without even trying.

She leans in slightly. “Will you show me?”

I blink. “Show you?”

She nods. “Your art.”

My stomach flips.

I panic for a second, instinct screaming to say no. But then I look at her—really look—and there’s no pressure in her expression. Just curiosity.

And maybe… something softer.

I exhale slowly. “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Really?”

I nod. “Just—don’t make it a big deal, okay?”

She zips her lips. “No big deal. Promise.”

I narrow my eyes. “That didn’t seem convincing.”

She grins. “Too late, you already agreed.”

I roll my eyes but push off the counter, leading her toward my room. My very personal space.

This is a mistake.

But she follows anyway, and I know deep down—this was always going to happen.

Chapter 10: Colors of You

Chapter 10: Colors of You

JULIETTE

Billie sits cross-legged on my floor, surrounded by every single painting I swore no one would ever see.

This is a nightmare.

She’s been staring at them for a solid five minutes, completely silent, tracing her fingers over the edges of the canvases like they hold the answers to the universe.

I can’t tell if she’s judging me or if she just doesn’t know what to say.

“Say something,” I blurt.

She looks up, her expression unreadable. “You’re incredible.”

My breath catches.

I glance at the paintings scattered around her—dozens of them. Some are soft and dreamlike, Billie caught in a moment of light. Others are darker, shadows curling around her like secrets. Some are just her hands, her profile, her eyes.

Some are raw. Too raw. Like I’d been trying to paint something I didn’t have the words for.

I wrap my arms around myself, shifting on my feet. “They’re just—”

“Don’t say ‘just,’” she interrupts.

I swallow.

She looks back at a particular painting—one I did after a bad anxiety night, when I couldn’t sleep, when Billie’s music was the only thing that kept me breathing.

She lifts it carefully. “When did you make this one?”

I hesitate. “A while ago.”

She runs a thumb over the canvas. “It feels… different.”

I shift awkwardly. “I was going through a rough time.”

She looks at me, and there’s something achingly gentle in her gaze. Like she knows. Like she understands exactly what I mean.

My throat is suddenly tight.

“It helped, then?” she asks softly.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She sets the painting down carefully, then meets my eyes. “I’m glad.”

A beat of silence.

Then, suddenly, she smirks. “So, which one’s your favorite?”

I blink. “Huh?”

She gestures around. “Come on. You’ve gotta have a favorite.”

I glance at the paintings. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” she says, grinning now. “Show me.”

I sigh but step over, searching through the canvases before pulling out one of the smaller ones.

She takes it, eyes widening slightly.

It’s one of the softer ones. Billie sitting on a rooftop, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sky. A moment of quiet.

I watch her carefully. “It’s not my best work—”

“It’s beautiful.”

The words are so sincere I don’t know what to do with them.

My heart does something weird.

Billie smiles, setting the painting aside, then leans back on her hands. “You know, this is kinda unfair.”

I frown. “What is?”

“You have, like, a thousand paintings of me, and I have exactly zero of you.”

I flush. “That’s different.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How?”

“Because you’re Billie Eilish.”

She gives me a look. “Julie.”

I cross my arms, suddenly defensive. “It’s true.”

She tilts her head. “You really don’t see yourself the way I see you, huh?”

I freeze.

Because—what?

She studies me, like she’s figuring something out. “You look at me like I’m this huge, untouchable thing, but you don’t realize I’m just… a person.”

I swallow. “You’re more than that to me.”

The words slip out before I can stop them.

Her expression softens.

Then, without thinking, she reaches forward and tugs the sleeve of my hoodie up.

My breath stutters.

She runs a finger over my soulmate mark, now a deep, inky black. “This still doesn’t feel real to you, does it?”

I shake my head.

She flips her wrist, showing me her mark. It’s dark, just like mine, standing out starkly against her skin. “It’s real, Julie.”

I stare at it.

At her.

At us.

And for the first time, I think—

Maybe I can believe it.

Chapter 11: Threads of Fate

Chapter 11: Threads of Fate

BILLIE

I can’t stop staring at our marks.

Intricate lines, delicate curves—separate, they’re beautiful. But when I slowly press my wrist against hers, something almost electric hums through my skin. The designs connect, forming a pattern that feels ancient, like something carved into the universe itself.

Juliette shivers.

I don’t think she was expecting this.

Hell, I wasn’t expecting this.

I trail a thumb over the edge of the design. “That’s insane.”

Juliette swallows. “Yeah.”

Her voice is small, and when I look up, she’s biting her lip, eyes darting between my face and our joined wrists like she’s trying to make sense of it.

“Does it still not feel real?” I ask.

She hesitates. “I don’t know how to make it feel real.”

I study her. The way she fidgets, the way she shrinks in on herself. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, but it’s like some part of her still thinks she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I gently turn her wrist in my hands, tracing the edges of our mark. “You’ve had this your whole life.”

She nods.

“And you never thought it would lead to me?”

Her throat works as she swallows. “No.”

“Why?”

She exhales, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I never thought I was meant for something this… big.”

The words hit me harder than they should.

I release her wrist but don’t pull away, keeping my gaze on hers. “Julie.”

Her breath catches.

“You think the universe makes mistakes?”

She blinks.

I shake my head. “Because I don’t. And it led me here. To you.”

She looks like she wants to argue. I can see the fight in her eyes—the disbelief, the self-doubt, the years of convincing herself she wasn’t meant for something like this.

But I’m not letting her do that.

Not with me.

Not when she’s literally written into my skin.

I squeeze her hand gently, grounding her. “You don’t have to believe it yet,” I say softly. “But I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes shine with something I can’t name.

Then, so quietly, she whispers, “Okay.”

And I know she doesn’t fully believe it yet.

But she’s trying.

And that’s enough.

For now.

Chapter 12: The Weight of Forever

Chapter 12: The Weight of Forever

JULIETTE

I think I stop breathing for a solid ten seconds.

Billie’s words are still hanging in the air between us, settling into my bones like they belong there.

“You don’t have to believe it yet. But I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

How am I supposed to respond to that?

How do I let myself believe that this isn’t some cosmic joke? That someone like Billie—someone who could have anyone, someone who is everything—was always meant to be mine?

I pull my wrist back slowly, curling my fingers into my palm. Our marks are still buzzing, like the universe is making sure I don’t forget.

“Julie.”

The way she says it—soft, insistent—it sends a shiver down my spine.

I glance up.

Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something steady in her eyes. Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Like she always does.

I clear my throat, looking anywhere but at her. “So, uh… what happens now?”

She tilts her head. “You tell me.”

I blink. “What?”

“I mean, what do you want to happen?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Billie, my life is literally built around the fact that I don’t make decisions.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I noticed.”

I glare at her, but she just grins, all easy confidence and casual charm, like she’s not completely shifting the axis of my reality.

I chew on my lip. “I don’t know what I want.”

It’s not a lie.

It’s just… not the whole truth.

Because the truth is, I want her.

I want to lean into the pull between us, want to believe that maybe I’m meant to have something this big.

But I also want to run.

Because this is terrifying.

Billie’s world is loud and bright and filled with eyes watching from every direction. And me? I’ve spent my whole life trying to be invisible.

I don’t know if I can do this.

I don’t know if I can handle being hers.

Billie must notice the storm brewing in my head, because she leans forward, voice gentle. “How about we don’t overthink it?”

I let out a short, breathless laugh. “Have you met me?”

She smirks. “Unfortunately.”

I roll my eyes, but a small, reluctant smile tugs at my lips.

She softens. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now. We can just… exist. Together.”

I hesitate.

“Can you do that?” she asks.

I want to say no. I want to tell her that my brain doesn’t work like that, that I don’t know how to just be when every part of me is wired to overthink, to expect the worst, to assume I’ll somehow ruin this before it even begins.

But then she reaches out—slow, deliberate—and brushes her fingers over mine.

The smallest touch.

And my whole body settles.

Like I can finally breathe again.

I stare at our hands.

At the way our fingers are barely touching, but I can still feel everything.

I exhale. “Okay.”

She smiles.

And for the first time since the universe decided to mark us into each other’s skin, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—this doesn’t have to be as scary as I think it is.

Maybe I can just let it happen.

Maybe I can let her in.

BILLIE

I don’t say it out loud, but the way Juliette’s looking at me right now?

Yeah.

I’m screwed.

It’s not even about the fact that she’s my soulmate. It’s not about the way our marks fit together like they were never meant to be separate.

It’s about her.

The way she tries so hard to keep herself small when she’s meant to take up space.

The way she doesn’t even realize how much she already owns me.

She’s staring at our hands like they hold the answer to something, and maybe they do, but I’m not gonna push.

Not yet.

Instead, I just hold her gaze and say, “You hungry?”

She blinks. “What?”

I grin. “I’m starving.”

Her lips twitch. “Did you just switch the conversation from existential soulmate crisis to food?”

“Yep.”

She stares at me for a second, then lets out a laugh—a real one.

And God, I want to hear that sound again.

She shakes her head, standing up. “Fine. What do you want?”

I stretch lazily. “What do you want?”

She groans. “Billie.”

I smirk. “Julie.”

Her eyes narrow. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

She groans again but pulls out her phone to scroll through some delivery options.

I watch her, chin resting on my hand.

She doesn’t realize she’s already letting me in.

She doesn’t realize that every second she spends not pushing me away is already an answer to the question she won’t let herself ask.

She doesn’t realize that I’ve already decided—

I’m all in.

Whether she’s ready for it or not.

Chapter 13: The Space Between Us

Chapter 13: The Space Between Us

JULIETTE

I should’ve expected this.

Billie is staring at me like I just personally offended her entire existence.

I blink. “What?”

She gestures wildly at my plate. “You’re telling me, with all the options in the world, you chose that?”

I look down at my food. “What’s wrong with it?”

She makes a face. “Julie. That’s literally a dead animal.”

I snort. “Yes, Billie. That’s generally what chicken is.”

She gags dramatically.

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t seem this disgusted when I was ordering.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were gonna get something normal!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Define normal.”

She sighs, exasperated. “I dunno. Something not murdered.”

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Billie.”

She crosses her arms. “What.”

“You do know you’re dating someone who eats meat, right?”

Her mouth opens—then immediately snaps shut.

A slow, amused grin spreads across my face. “Oh my God. You just realized.”

She groans jokingly, burying her face in her hands. “I hate this.”

I cackle. “What exactly did you think I ate before meeting you? Air?”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “I dunno. I wasn’t thinking.”

I shake my head, still laughing. “Well, sorry to break it to you, Eilish, but your soulmate is not a vegan.”

She slumps back dramatically. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Right. Because you, a millionaire global superstar, found your literal soulmate but, oh no, she eats chicken.”

She glares at me. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I smile sweetly. “A little.”

She groans again, but there’s a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Okay,” she says, sighing heavily. “I can accept this—”

“Oh, wow, thank you so much.”

She ignores me. “—but I will be judging you every time you eat meat.”

“Noted.”

“And I’m never kissing you after you eat it.”

I pause. “Wait. Never?”

She smirks. “Never.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

She shrugs. “Am I?”

I stare at her for a long moment.

Then, slowly, deliberately, I pick up a piece of chicken—

And take a bite.

Maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Billie’s jaw clenches.

I smirk. “No kissing, huh?”

She glares. “You’re evil.”

I chew thoughtfully. “Mm. Tastes like victory.”

She huffs. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “I can’t believe my soulmate is an actual menace.”

I grin. “Better get used to it, Eilish.”

BILLIE

I am going to lose my mind.

This girl—this absolute gremlin—has been on this planet for twenty years, eating meat, and I somehow never thought about it until now.

I should be disgusted. I should be standing my ground.

But she’s smirking at me.

Smirking.

Like she knows she’s won.

And maybe she has.

I narrow my eyes. “You’re lucky I like you.”

She laughs, biting into her food again just to taunt me. “I’m very lucky.”

I shake my head, but a smile sneaks onto my face anyway.

We settle into easy conversation, the teasing softening into something lighter.

And for a while, it’s just… easy.

I like it.

I like her.

More than I should. More than I know what to do with.

And yeah, I could freak out about it. I could start overthinking. I could spiral into what this means and how we’re supposed to make it work—

But right now?

Right now, I just wanna sit here and watch her be happy.

Even if she is eating chic

Chapter 14: The Weight of It

Chapter 14: The Weight of It

JULIETTE

The leftovers on my plate are long forgotten.

I should still be eating, but my stomach feels like it’s in knots.

Billie leans back in her seat, scrolling through my sketchbook. This isn’t the first time she’s seen my art—I know that. But something about her holding my sketchbook now, flipping through the pages so slowly, makes me feel like she’s seeing me all over again.

“You really like my face, huh?” she teases, smirking.

I roll my eyes, but the heat still rises to my cheeks. “It’s a good reference,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Your features are distinct. Great for composition.”

“Oh, so I’m just good material to you?” she jokes, pretending to look offended.

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Pretty much.”

She gasps. “Wow. That’s messed up, Julie.”

And just like that, the tension in my chest eases.

I like this—when it’s easy with her. When I don’t feel like I’m overthinking every word.

She flips to another page, her teasing expression softening. “You’re incredible,” she says, tracing the edge of a charcoal sketch.

My throat tightens. I’m not incredible. Not in the way she is.

I pick up my fork again, mostly to have something to do with my hands. “It’s not that serious.”

She levels me with a look. “It is, though.”

I know arguing won’t change her mind, so I just shake my head, letting the compliment settle somewhere deep, somewhere I might believe it one day.

BILLIE

She looks down at her plate, but I know she’s feeling things.

I see it in the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, in the way she bites the inside of her cheek.

She doesn’t like being the center of attention. But she deserves it.

I could tell her that. Could tell her how much I love seeing the world through her art, how she captures emotions in a way that makes me feel them just by looking.

Instead, I nudge her foot under the table. “So, what else do you paint?”

She exhales, a small smile playing at her lips. “Landscapes. Sometimes people from movies. But mostly, I like faces. Expressions.”

I lean forward, curious. “Anyone else you use as a muse?”

She hesitates for a second, then smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I laugh. “Oh, now you’re keeping secrets?”

“Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Rude.”

She giggles, and I swear, it’s my new favorite sound.

For the first time tonight, I don’t see hesitation in her eyes. No second-guessing. Just her, relaxed, enjoying the moment.

I think I like this side of her the most.

And I think I’d do just about anything to keep seeing it.

Chapter 15: Late Night Confessions

Notes:

Hey Guys!
I’m back with the next chapter
Sorry for the delay but I’m about to start my end of semester exams so I’m a bit preoccupied with studying but I’ll try to consistently update the story!
I’m sorry if anything feels weird or repetitive
Please leave a kudos if you love (Billie) or the story!

Chapter 15: Late-Night Confessions

The food sits mostly untouched between us, a quiet casualty of the conversation that’s stolen our appetites. Billie’s fingers trace the edge of my sketchbook, her thumb running absentmindedly over the worn cover.

“You really drew all these?” she asks, flipping to another page.

I nod, my face heating up. “Yeah. Been doing it for years.”

She pauses on a sketch—one of her, sitting on a stool, eyes closed, lost in music. It’s an old drawing, from when I saw a clip of her on tour months ago. The way her head tilts slightly, the way her hands rest in her lap—it’s unmistakably her.

Billie exhales, like she’s trying to find the right words. “These are… insane. Like, I don’t even know what to say.” She glances up at me, something unreadable in her expression. “You make me look kinda ethereal.”

I let out an awkward laugh. “You are, though.”

She gives me a look, one eyebrow raised. “Julie.”

I swallow. “What?”

“You’re my soulmate.” She says it so simply, like it’s a fact she’s always known. “You don’t have to put me on some pedestal. I’m just… me.”

The weight of her words settles between us. I don’t know how to explain that she’s been more than just ‘Billie’ to me for years. That before I even knew she was my soulmate, she was already someone I looked up to. That her music carried me through some of my worst days.

“I know,” I say softly. “But it’s hard to turn that part of my brain off.”

She closes the sketchbook and shifts on the couch to face me fully. “You don’t have to turn anything off. I just want you to see that you deserve this. You deserve me. The same way I deserve you.”

I bite my lip, staring down at my hands. The mark on my wrist—it’s still there, dark and permanent, a reminder that this is real. That she’s real.

Billie reaches out, her fingers brushing against my wrist. “I meant it, you know. When I said I’d wait for you.”

I meet her gaze, my chest tightening. “What if I take forever?”

Her lips quirk up in a soft smile. “Then I’ll wait forever.”

And somehow, that’s both the most terrifying and the most comforting thing she could say.

Chapter 16: The Night Ends Too Soon

The Night Ends Too Soon

Juliette

“I should probably head out,” Billie says, stretching slightly as she gets up from the couch. “My team’s probably wondering where I disappeared to.”

I blink, my stomach twisting at the reminder that this night has to end. That she has a whole life waiting for her beyond the walls of my tiny flat.

“Right,” I say, forcing my voice to sound normal. “Of course.”

Billie pulls out her phone, unlocking it before glancing up at me. “But, um—” She hesitates for a second, then holds it out. “I should probably get your number first.”

I freeze. My brain takes a full three seconds to process the words.

She wants my number.

Like this isn’t just a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime moment that will fade when she leaves. Like she actually intends to talk to me after tonight.

I clear my throat quickly, reaching for her phone before my fingers can start shaking. I type in my number, hesitating only briefly before saving it under just Juliette. No last name. No extra details. If she ever forgets who I am, then—well. That’s that.

When I hand her phone back, she grins, tapping the screen a few times before my own phone vibrates from the table.

“There,” she says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Now you have mine too.”

I glance at my screen. A simple text from an unknown number:

Hey, it’s Billie :)

I press my lips together, trying to suppress the ridiculous smile tugging at them.

Billie watches me for a beat before exhaling softly. “I had a really good time tonight.”

I look up. “Yeah?”

Her head tilts slightly, the corners of her lips quirking. “Yeah.”

Something about the way she says it makes my skin feel too warm, my heartbeat unsteady. But I nod quickly, hugging my arms to my chest. “Me too.”

Billie gives me one last lingering look before reaching for her hoodie. “You can walk me out if you want.”

I want to say something easy, something casual, like Nah, I’ll just leave you to struggle with the front door yourself, but my brain is too scrambled for that. So instead, I just nod again and follow her to the door.

When we reach it, she hesitates, turning back slightly. “I’ll see you soon, Julie.”

Julie.

It rolls off her tongue so naturally. Like she’s always called me that.

Before I can figure out what to do with the warmth spreading through my chest, she steps outside, disappearing into the cool night air.

I stay frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then, slowly, I let out a breath and glance down at my phone.

Hey, it’s Billie :)

I read the message again.

Then again.

And then, finally, I let myself smile.

Chapter 17: A Different Kind Of Restlessness

Notes:

The first few chapters of the story are going to be short cause I’m still learning how to write so sorry for that

A Different Kind of Restlessness

Billie

The car ride back to my hotel is quiet. The driver doesn’t ask questions, and I don’t offer anything. My head is still stuck in Juliette’s flat, replaying every second of the night in a loop.

Her voice. Her sketches. The way she looked when I called her Julie.

I tap my fingers against my knee, staring out the window as the city lights blur past.

I don’t know what I expected from tonight.

I mean, I knew meeting my soulmate would be life-changing in some way. Everyone says it is. But I guess I never thought about the in-between—the part where you meet them, but you’re still technically strangers. Where you feel like you should know them, but you don’t.

And yet, it doesn’t feel like I don’t know her. It feels like I’ve known her forever.

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair.

It’s weird. I’ve spent years being watched, being seen, but this is the first time it’s ever felt… real. Like someone was looking at me and actually getting me, without me having to say a word.

And now, just hours later, I already miss her.

I shake my head, huffing out a laugh at myself.

Jesus, Billie. Get a grip.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, my heart skipping a little too fast when I see her name.

Juliette: Hey, did you get back to your hotel safe?

A grin tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

Me: Yeah, just got in. You still up?

The typing bubbles pop up almost immediately.

Chapter 18: Midnight Conversations

Notes:

*sigh*
Another short chapter
I’m thinking of adding about two or three chapters together to form one chapter in the next chapters I’ll update.
Let me know what you guys think in the comments

Midnight Conversations

Juliette

I shouldn’t still be awake.

My body is exhausted, my mind should be shutting down, but instead, I’m staring at my phone, waiting for Billie’s reply like some lovesick fool.

It buzzes in my hand.

Billie: Yeah, just got in. You still up?

I chew on my lip before responding.

Me: Obviously. It’s not like I ever sleep early.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

Billie: Same. Bad habit.

I hesitate before typing. I want to say something lighthearted, something casual. But I don’t know how to be casual about this.

Me: Tonight was… a lot.

I stare at the message for too long before pressing send. It’s true, but it feels like an understatement.

Billie: Yeah. A lot. In the best way, though.

I let out a breath, my fingers tightening around the phone.

Me: You don’t think it’s weird? That we just know we’re soulmates, but we don’t actually know each other?

There’s a pause before she responds.

Billie: No, I think it’s kind of amazing. It’s like… a shortcut to something real. Like we get to skip the years of wondering if we’ve met the right person.

I read that message three times before answering.

Me: Yeah. That makes sense. I just… I don’t know. It’s overwhelming.

Billie: I get that. But we don’t have to rush anything. We can just… talk. Get to know each other. No pressure.

I don’t know why that makes my chest ache. Maybe because she’s famous and could have anyone she wants, and yet she’s here, telling me there’s no rush.

Me: I’d like that.

I don’t expect another reply. It’s late, and she has a whole life to get back to. But my phone buzzes again.

Billie: Good. So tell me, Julie—what’s something random about you?

I blink at the screen, warmth spreading through me at the nickname.

Me: Something random?

Billie: Yeah. No pressure. Just anything.

I think for a moment before typing.

Me: I paint with my hands sometimes. When I don’t feel like using brushes.

Billie: That’s cool. Messy, but cool.

Me: Very messy. My flat ends up looking like an art supply store exploded.

Billie: I’d love to see that.

I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

She wants to see my mess? My chaos?

Before I can overthink it, I snap a picture of the corner of my flat where I keep my canvases. There’s dried paint on the floor, unfinished sketches scattered on the table, a few of my favorite paintings stacked against the wall. I send it before I can stop myself.

The typing bubbles appear almost instantly.

Billie: That’s insane. You’re so talented.

Heat rises to my face. I know I’m good, but hearing it from her? It feels different.

Me: You already saw my work in person. Now you see my natural habitat.

Billie: And I stand by what I said. You’re crazy talented.

Me: Says the Grammy-winning artist.

Billie: Don’t deflect, Julie. I meant it.

I stare at the message, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

Me: …Thanks.

There’s a longer pause this time, but not an uncomfortable one.

Then, finally—

Billie: You should get some sleep.

Me: You should too.

Billie: Yeah, yeah. Night, Julie.

I hesitate before typing.

Me: Night, Billie.

I don’t sleep right away. I just lie there, staring at my phone, feeling something warm and terrifying settle in my chest.

This is real. This is happening.

And somehow, even though I don’t fully understand it yet… it feels right.

Chapter 19: The Morning After And The Weight Of Reality

Notes:

I am so sorry for the late update! 😭
University has been draining me but I’m back now!
I can’t promise to update every week but I’ll try my best!

Billie

I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand.

For a second, I forget where I am. The hotel room is dark, the curtains still drawn shut, and my body feels like lead from exhaustion. But then I see the notification on my phone, and last night comes rushing back.

A message from Juliette.

Juliette: Morning.

That’s it. Just one word. But it makes me grin like an idiot.

I stretch, rolling onto my back before replying.

Me: Morning, Julie.

The dots appear immediately, and for some reason, I feel a little lighter.

Juliette: Did you sleep well?

I rub my face, letting out a breath.

Me: I did. You?

Juliette: Meh. You already know I have a bad relationship with sleep.

I smirk.

Me: Yeah, we have that in common.

Juliette: Soulmates even in insomnia.

That makes me laugh.

Me: Guess so.

I push myself up, my voice still rough with sleep when I call out, “Finneas?”

No response. Right—he’s in the next room.

I get out of bed, stretching before heading toward the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looks a little less tired than I expected. Maybe because I actually got a few hours of decent sleep. Maybe because my first thought when I woke up wasn’t stress or exhaustion.

It was her.

My phone buzzes again.

Juliette: What’s on your schedule today?

I sigh.

Me: Meetings. Interviews. You know, the usual.

Juliette: Ah, the glamorous life of a superstar.

Me: So glamorous. You?

Juliette: Classes. Then I’ll probably paint for a bit.

Me: Send me what you make.

She doesn’t reply right away, and I wonder if that was too much to ask. But then—

Juliette: …Okay.

I smile, gripping my phone a little tighter.

Me: Cool.

There’s another pause before she replies again.

Juliette: Hey, Billie?

Me: Yeah?

Juliette: …Never mind.

I frown.

Me: No, what?

Juliette: It’s stupid.

Me: Tell me anyway.

Another pause. Then—

Juliette: I just… I don’t know. This is weird. Not in a bad way, just… different.

I exhale, leaning against the counter.

Me: I know what you mean. It’s a lot.

Juliette: Yeah. But I like it.

That makes my chest feel way too warm.

Me: Me too.

She doesn’t say anything else for a minute, and I let my head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

This is real. This is happening.

And for the first time in a while, I don’t feel like running from it.

 

Juliette

My fingers hover over my phone screen for longer than they should. Billie hasn’t sent another message, and I shouldn’t expect her to. She’s busy. She has a world to manage, a career, interviews, a million people demanding her attention.

And yet… she replies to me.

I exhale, placing my phone face-down on my desk before glancing at the half-finished painting in front of me. It’s her, of course. It’s always her. The soft curve of her jaw, the downward tilt of her lashes, the intensity in her expression that never seems to fade no matter how I try to capture it.

My fingers itch to pick up the brush again, but my mind is restless.

This is so much.

I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of reality presses down on me in waves.

Billie. Billie Eilish.

She’s my soulmate.

How do I even begin to process that?

The whole world watches her. People love her, obsess over her. She’s one of the most famous people on the planet. And then there’s me—just a girl, barely managing to get through university without crumbling under anxiety and self-doubt.

It doesn’t make sense.

I pick up my phone again before I can overthink it too much.

Me: Do you ever feel like this whole soulmate thing is too much?

The dots appear almost instantly.

Billie: You mean, like… overwhelming?

Me: Yeah. Like, I can’t believe this is real.

Billie: Oh, for sure.

I bite my lip.

Me: Does it scare you?

This time, she takes longer to reply.

Billie: It used to. Not anymore.

My chest tightens.

Me: Why not?

Billie: Because I want this.

My breath catches. I don’t know how to respond to that.

Billie: What about you?

I hesitate.

Me: I don’t know. I want it too. But… I don’t feel like I deserve it.

The moment I hit send, regret washes over me. It’s too much, too honest. I should’ve kept it to myself.

But then—

Billie: Julie.

Just my name.

And then—

Billie: You deserve this just as much as I do.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I wish I could believe that.

Billie

The second I send the message, I know Juliette won’t reply right away. She overthinks everything. I can practically feel her trying to process it, trying to convince herself that she’s not enough.

I hate that she thinks like that.

I glance at the clock. I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I should be reviewing my notes, but all I can think about is her.

I don’t know how to make her believe that I want this.

That I want her.

Chapter 20: The Distance Between Us And Midnight Calls

Juliette

Days pass, and my life falls back into routine. University assignments pile up, and I bury myself in coursework, trying to focus. Trying to convince myself that nothing has changed.

Except… everything has.

My phone is never far from my reach. Every time it buzzes, my heart jumps, even when it’s just a notification for some random app. I check my messages more than I should. Billie doesn’t text all the time—she’s busy, obviously—but when she does, I feel like I can breathe again.

And when she doesn’t… the doubt creeps in.

She’s in another country now.

I saw the pictures. The paparazzi caught her at LAX, back in Los Angeles, wearing a hoodie so big it practically swallowed her whole. The moment I saw the headline—Billie Eilish Back Home After London Tour Stop—a cold, empty feeling settled in my stomach.

She’s thousands of miles away. And yet, my soulmate mark still burns with that strange, unshakable pull.

I don’t know what to do with it.

I throw myself onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. The light from my phone screen illuminates the dark room, Billie’s last text sitting unread.

Billie: What are you up to?

It’s simple. Casual.

I should just reply. I want to reply.

But there’s this part of me that wonders if I should pull back before I get too attached.

As if I’m not already.

I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaling slowly. Then, before I can think too hard about it, I type out a response.

Me: Just working on a painting. What about you?

The dots appear instantly.

Billie: Same. But it’s a song, not a painting.

Me: Are you allowed to tell me about it, or is it top-secret music industry stuff?

Billie: Hmm. Maybe I can give you a hint.

Me: I’m listening.

Billie: Birds of a Feather.

I freeze.

She had mentioned writing a song inspired by me before, but I didn’t actually think she meant it.

My fingers tremble slightly as I type.

Me: That’s the name?

Billie: Yeah. You like it?

I swallow hard.

Me: It’s beautiful.

Billie: Like you.

My breath catches.

What am I supposed to say to that?

Me: Stop.

Billie: Nope. Never.

I groan, burying my face in my pillow. My heart is a mess.

Me: You’re impossible.

Billie: And you love it.

I hesitate.

And then, before I can second-guess myself, I type:

Me: …Maybe.

I toss my phone onto the bed, pressing my hands over my face as it buzzes again.

I don’t check it right away. I already know I’m smiling.

Billie

The distance between us sucks.

I’ve only known Juliette for a short time, but not talking to her? Not seeing her? It’s weird. It’s wrong.

I can feel the bond, the pull, even from across the ocean.

And when she told me she didn’t feel like she deserved this? Deserved me?

That hurt.

I don’t know how to fix it.

All I know is that every time I talk to her, I want to be closer.

I stare at my laptop screen, where the rough demo of Birds of a Feather is open. It’s not finished, but the melody is there. The words are coming together.

I meant what I said.

I want this. I want her.

Now, I just have to make her believe it.

—————————————————

Juliette

I’m half-asleep when my phone starts buzzing.

At first, I think it’s my alarm, but the glowing screen says otherwise.

Billie is calling.

I jolt awake, heart pounding.

It’s past midnight. Why is she calling me now?

I hesitate for half a second before swiping to answer.

“Hello?” My voice is thick with sleep.

“Hey,” Billie murmurs. Her voice is low, almost shy. “Were you asleep?”

“Kind of.” I rub my eyes, sitting up against my pillows. “What’s up?”

“I just…” A pause. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

My brain short-circuits.

“Billie,” I whisper, suddenly too awake.

“Yeah?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

She chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. “Why not?”

“Because.” I flop back onto my pillow, staring at the ceiling. “It’s illegal.”

“Oh, so I’m breaking the law now?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. Guess I’ll have to turn myself in.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile. “What’s the charge?”

“Hmm.” She hums, pretending to think. “Being impossibly obsessed with my soulmate?”

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Billie.”

“What?” She laughs. “It’s true.”

I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “Why are you like this?”

“You love it.”

I don’t answer.

Because she’s right.

I hear Billie shift, like she’s lying down too. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Just classes.”

“Boring.”

“You say that like you’ve ever been to a lecture.”

“Hey, I could totally be a student.”

I snort. “Sure. I’d love to see you take an art history exam.”

Billie groans. “Okay, never mind. I take it back.”

I laugh, and for a second, the distance doesn’t feel so big.

We talk for a while, about everything and nothing. The world outside is silent, but my room is filled with the sound of Billie’s voice, soft and steady.

I could listen forever.

Eventually, my eyelids get heavy, and I yawn.

“Tired?” Billie murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“Then sleep, Julie.”

Julie.

Her voice wraps around the name like a promise, and I shiver.

I close my eyes. “Stay?”

“I’m here.”

And that’s the last thing I hear before sleep pulls me under.

Billie

She fell asleep.

I listen to her breathing, slow and even, and I don’t hang up.

I should. It’s late. But I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of our bond even from miles away.

She doesn’t even realize how much she’s gotten into my head.

How much I want to see her again.

How much I already miss her.

I whisper, too softly for her to hear.

“Goodnight, Julie.”

And I close my eyes, letting the sound of her breathing lull me to sleep.

Chapter 21: Distractions And Late Night Calls

Notes:

I don’t know if you guys have realized, but I’ve been trying to join two chapters together so that the chapters I post will be longer but it makes the content seem kind of repetitive 😓 especially since Julie and Billie only get to really talk to each other in the night.
I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore🤦🏾‍♀️.
Let me know what you guys think.
Also I might need an editor atp.

Juliette

The day drags.

Classes feel endless, and I can’t focus on a single lecture. Every time I try, my mind drifts back to her.

Billie.

It’s ridiculous how much space she’s taking up in my head. I barely know her, and yet she’s everywhere—lingering in the corners of my thoughts, sneaking into the spaces between my breaths.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus as my professor talks about color theory. I scribble notes, underlining words I barely process.

This is normal. I have a life outside of her.

I can’t let myself get caught up in something that might not even be real.

But then my phone buzzes.

I glance down.

Billie: How’s class?

A stupid smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

I hesitate, then reply.

Me: Boring. Save me.

Her response is almost immediate.

Billie: Dramatic.
Billie: Want me to call you later?

I bite my lip.

Me: Yeah. I’d like that.

And suddenly, the day doesn’t seem so unbearable anymore.

Billie

I definitely shouldn’t be checking my phone right now.

We’re in a full production meeting, and everyone is talking about the tour schedule, but I’m barely listening.

Instead, I’m staring at my last text from Juliette, reading it over and over again.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

It’s so simple, but it makes my chest feel weirdly warm.

“Billie?”

I blink, realizing everyone is staring at me.

“What?”

My manager sighs. “We were asking if you’re okay with the interview lineup for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I wave it off.

Finneas, sitting across from me, narrows his eyes like he knows exactly why I’m distracted, but he doesn’t say anything.

I’m grateful for that.

Juliette

That night, I lie in bed, staring at my phone, waiting.

Waiting for her to call.

Which is stupid. Maybe she got busy. Maybe she forgot.

Maybe—

The phone vibrates in my hand.

Billie.

I swallow hard and answer. “Hey.”

Her voice is low and sleepy. “Hey, Julie.”

The nickname sends a quiet thrill through me.

I close my eyes, letting the sound of her voice settle into my bones. “You sound tired.”

“I am,” she admits. “Long day. But I wanted to talk to you.”

I shift under my blanket. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of us speaks for a few seconds. It should be awkward, but it’s not. It’s just comfortable.

“So,” she murmurs, “tell me something about you I don’t know yet.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

I think for a moment. “I can’t swim.”

“What?” She sounds genuinely surprised. “At all?”

“Nope.”

“Julie. That’s actually insane.”

I grin. “I mean, I can float? But if you threw me into deep water, I’d probably die.”

“Jesus.” She laughs, the sound low and warm in my ear. “Okay. Noted. If we ever go swimming, I’m keeping an eye on you.”

I roll onto my side, feeling strangely lighter. “Your turn. Tell me something random about you.”

Billie hums. “Okay… I sleep with socks on. Always.”

I gasp. “You’re a psychopath.”

She laughs. “I just like being warm!”

“That’s insane behavior, Billie. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

Her laughter softens into something quieter. “You can trust me, Julie.”

And just like that, my heart stumbles.

I don’t know what to say to that.

So I say nothing.

And we keep talking until we both fall asleep.

——————————————————

Billie

I wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring and groan, blindly reaching to shut it off.

My phone is still in my hand from last night’s call.

For a second, I just stare at the screen, remembering the way Juliette’s voice got softer the sleepier she got, how she mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch before she drifted off completely.

It takes me a second to realize I never even said goodnight.

I fell asleep on the phone with her.

A slow smile spreads across my face.

I never do that.

I should get up. I have interviews, rehearsals, and meetings today. But instead, I check my messages.

Juliette: Did we fall asleep on the phone?
Juliette: That’s actually adorable.
Juliette: But I am never forgiving you for the sock thing.

I snort, rubbing a hand over my face as I type back.

Me: You need to let that go.
Me: Some of us like to be warm.

A reply comes almost immediately.

Juliette: Some of us have common sense.

I shake my head, already feeling more awake.

I have to get moving, but I can’t stop myself from sending one more text.

Me: I’ll call you after rehearsals.
Me: Missed your voice already.

I send it before I can overthink it.

And when I see the typing bubble pop up right away, I don’t regret it one bit.

Juliette

I should not be smiling this hard at my phone.

But Billie is impossible.

I curl deeper into my blanket, rereading her text.

“Missed your voice already.”

Who even says stuff like that?

I don’t know how to respond, so I just type:

Me: You’re ridiculous.
Me: But yeah. Call me later.

I stare at my screen for a second longer before groaning into my pillow.

This is not normal.

This is not how I should be feeling after just a few days of knowing someone.

And yet, here I am.

Falling.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I force myself out of bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I go about my morning routine. I have a class in an hour, and I need to get my head together before then.

But Billie’s texts linger in the back of my mind the whole time.

By the time I’m on campus, I’ve convinced myself to push it aside. For now.

My coursework demands my attention.

I sit in my usual spot, pulling out my sketchbook as I wait for the lecture to start. My professor drones on about composition and movement in artwork, but my pencil moves absentmindedly across the page.

I don’t even realize what I’m drawing until I glance down.

Billie.

Again.

The curve of her jaw, the sharpness of her gaze, the slight furrow of her brows when she’s thinking.

It’s getting ridiculous at this point.

I snap my sketchbook shut, cheeks burning.

“Jules?”

I blink up at my friend, Amara, who’s raising a suspicious eyebrow at me.

“You okay?” she asks, nudging me lightly. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”

I force a smile. “Just tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully, she lets it go.

For now.

———————————————————-
BILLIE

Rehearsals are brutal.

By the time we wrap up, my muscles ache, and my voice feels raw from running through the setlist over and over again.

But the second I’m back in my dressing room, I grab my phone and call Juliette.

She picks up after two rings.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft.

And just like that, the exhaustion melts away.

“Hey, Julie,” I murmur, leaning back against the couch.

She makes a little noise—half a laugh, half a sigh. “I told you not to call me that.”

“You love it.”

She doesn’t deny it.

There’s a comfortable pause before she asks, “How was rehearsal?”

I groan dramatically. “Painful. I might actually die.”

She snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the artist who literally faints over good lighting.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “That was one time—”

I laugh, picturing the way her nose is probably scrunching up right now.

We fall into easy conversation, the time difference making it feel like she’s winding down just as my day is still moving.

At some point, she yawns.

“Sleepy?” I ask softly.

She hums. “A little.”

I don’t want to hang up.

But I also don’t want her pushing herself to stay awake just for me.

“Go to sleep, Julie.”

She sighs. “Fine. But only if you promise to do the same when you’re done.”

I smile. “Promise.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, softly, she says, “Goodnight, Billie.”

My heart stumbles over itself.

“Goodnight, Julie.”

I don’t hang up until I’m sure she’s asleep.