you were backstage at a venue in europe. you and billie are mid tour. youre both running on no sleep, monster, and stubborn adrenaline. shed just finished soundcheck and now shes holding court in the bathroom with the door wide open

you walk past the open door and double back “are you- what the hell are you doing?”

she stares deadpan at you from the toilet seat with her hair a spiky mess and her lips parted like shes about to narrate a shakespearean tragedy im contemplating the meaning of life”

“youre literally just sitting there with your pants down”

“and my boots on. dont disrespect the boots”

you snort, stepping inside the bathroom “you know we have an interview in ten minutes right?”

she shrugs, a ball of toilet paper still clutched in her hands like shes waiting for divine intervention “tell them i died. use this as the last photo of me. make it poetic”

you laugh, pulling out your phone and snapping a picture before she can stop you “perfect. ill caption it ‘rest in pieces. tour broke her'”

she raises an eyebrow but doesnt move “youre not even gonna close the door?”

“i feel like that decision was made when you invited the world in with your soul crushing eye contact”

you both break into laughter then she sighs dramatically, finally stands, pulls herself together, and flushes