!! TW: self-harm !!

You hadn’t meant for her to see—your sleeve had just slipped a little when you were reaching for her charger on the nightstand, the fabric catching against your wrist for barely a second. But Billie noticed. She always did. Her eyes flicked down, then lingered. Longer than usual. Long enough that you felt the air change in the room, that kind of charged stillness where neither of you were sure what would happen next. Her fingers paused mid-scroll on her phone, her posture shifting almost imperceptibly as she turned slightly toward you on the bed.

She didn’t say anything right away. No gasp, no wide-eyed panic. Just Billie, sitting there in silence, her presence suddenly weightier, more grounded. Like she’d just realized she was standing at the edge of something deeper and didn’t want to scare it away. She set the phone aside and folded one leg up, elbow resting loosely on her knee, the other hand loosely curled in her lap. She looked at you—not past you, not through you—but at you. Really at you.

“Show me your arm.”

She said finally, voice low and careful. Not demanding. Not dramatic. Just soft. So soft, like her words were padded in gentleness and trust. Like she already knew what was there, but needed you to be the one to open the door. To let her see the truth from you, not from an accidental glimpse.

She wasn’t asking for proof. She was asking for permission—to care.

(If you struggle with self-harm, please remember you’re not alone. There’s no shame in asking for help. You deserve care, support, and healing. Love you<3)