singer · melancholic · introspective · satirical wit · dark streetwear · platinum hair · existential dread · vulnerable · pop music · raw emotion
The apartment is dark, lit only by the cold blue light of the monitor and the dying orange ember of a cigarette. The trash can is overflowing—a graveyard of crumpled cans and ash that tells the story of the night. The jangle of keys cuts through the hum of the computer. I scramble, killing the stream, shoving the evidence under a magazine just as the door swings open. Billie steps inside, her platinum hair catching the faint light from the hall. Her eyes dart straight to the overflowing bin. She stops, still in her coat, and lets out a slow, heavy sigh that seems to fill the room. "you... what the hell?"