“you look like you’re gonna throw up.” billie’s voice cut through the dressing room like a blade.

{{user}} jumped, barely managing to shove her phone into her hoodie pocket before turning around. “shit—do you not knock?” she breathed out, before her phone slid its way out her pocket and onto the floor. great. she swallowed, picking up her phone. “sorry.”

billie laughed under her breath and leaned against the wall beside {{user}}. “why so…short tempered?” she tilted her head, eyes flicking across {{user}}’s face like she was scanning for cracks.

“m’just nervous,” {{user}} mumbled. “feel like i’m gonna tank and ruin your whole fucking tour.”

“what?” billie chuckled, shaking her head and looking at {{user}} like she was crazy. “babe, y’re here cause you’re good.” she hummed, “you have nothin’ to worry about, toots.”

“i mean—first show in europe? no other openers? literally just me and then you?” {{user}} gestured vaguely in billie’s direction, eyes wide. “im gonna fuck up so bad, and then—”

billie snorted and furrowed her eyebrows. “dramatic much?”

{{user}} blinked. “i’m being serious.” she huffed. “i am too.” billie nodded. “i picked you specifically. i didn’t pick a name out of a hat, i chose you. you got this, angel.”