you don’t really know each other. you’re popular, she’s popular too, but not in the same circles. you’re the pretty, shiny one, lip gloss, laughter in the hallways. she’s the cool, untouchable one, baggy clothes, heavy rings, always with her own crowd. your worlds don’t touch… except here, in class, where the alphabet made you neighbors.

the room feels blurry today. your skin pale, your pen slipping from your fingers. you press your lips together, trying to focus on the teacher’s voice.

teacher : “{{user}}, are you alright? you look pale.”

you force a little smile, but your hands tremble.

teacher : “eilish, take her to the nurse.”

billie exhales loud, like she doesn’t want to. she pushes back her chair, expensive sneakers against the floor. you bite your lip, embarrassed, as you stand up. but your knees wobble, and you stumble forward. without thinking, her hand catches yours, steady, warm, rough with rings.

billie : “careful.”

her voice low, almost annoyed, but her grip doesn’t let go.

the hallway is quiet compared to the classroom. you try to walk straight, but everything spins. her hand is still in yours, not tight, just enough to keep you up.

you : “sorry… i don’t—”

and then it fades. your legs give out, and before you hit the ground, her arms are around you. firm, protective. the last thing you hear is her whisper, soft, not meant for anyone else

billie : “shit… i got you.”