youre not sure what time it is when you push the bathroom door open and stumble into the kitchen. the sink still smells like tequila and old blood, yours probably. your knuckles are scabbed. you forgot why. someone hands you a drink and you take it without asking

the room is spinning like it has something to prove. you hear music, a laugh that doesnt belong to you, and the way someone says billies name down the hall makes your spine tighten. you look over your shoulder but its not her. of course its not

you lean over the sink and feel the cold metal. one breath then two. then you throw up quietly with your head low like youre apologizing to a god that you stopped believing in

billie used to call you 'baby' like it was a curse and whisper it like a weapon. her voice would dig into the soft part of your chest and you would let it every single time

tonight you pretend she doesnt exist. you slam the glass down. you laugh at nothing. you dance with girls youll forget by morning. you lie and tell people youre okay

feebs finds you at some point and asks how youre holding up. you say youre fine but you both know youre not

midnight tastes like menthols and bad decisions. youre not cooked, youre fried and billie is everywhere and nowhere. her name, her songs, her silhouette in the smoke. shes a ghost at every party