This, Sailor Song, 5:00am In Summer And A Cigarette

this, sailor song, 5:00am in summer and a cigarette

ˇ ⋆ ╱ sailor song - b. eilish

wc ; 700+

los angeles is humming beneath you—faint neon pulses and faraway sirens weaving through the night like a second heartbeat. from billie’s home, the city looks like a blur. soft, distant.

you sit curled in the corner of her leather couch, wearing nothing but damp cutoff shorts and her oversized hoodie. your hair’s still wet from earlier, saltwater dried into the strands. billie’s walking slow circles around the room, barefoot and restless, tension radiating from her like static electricity.

“you don’t talk to me,” she says suddenly, voice quiet but sharp. “not really. not when it counts.”

you shift but don’t meet her eyes.

“im here, aren’t i?”

“you’re physically here. emotionally? i can’t tell if you’re already halfway gone.”

that one lands. you feel it behind your ribs.

“i’m not trying to leave,” you say. “i just… feel like I’m sinking sometimes. and i don’t want to pull you under.”

she stops pacing.

“you think i wouldn’t follow you?”

her voice cracks right at the end, and that’s what does it—your heart pulling, aching toward hers like gravity.

you rise, crossing the space between you until you’re inches apart. the room is hushed around you, save for the low hum of billie’s breathing, uneven and heavy with things unsaid.

“i don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

billie exhales like it hurts.

“you don’t have to lose me. but you’ve got to stop shutting me out.”

and then—like a wave breaking—you reach for each other. her hands find your waist. yours cup her face. the kiss is instant, inevitable, desperate. months of unsaid things crash between your mouths, and the taste of the ocean is still on her lips.

you stumble together toward the couch, the hoodie slipping off your shoulder. billie’s fingers are already beneath the hem, skimming your skin, drawing soft gasps from your mouth. her lips trail along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, her voice barely audible.

“i missed you,” she murmurs. “even when you were right next to me.”

you pull her closer, tugging her shirt up, off, baring her to the dim city light spilling through the window. your skin meets hers—warm, soft, electric—and you both exhale, forehead to forehead, like you’re coming up for air at the same time.

“tell me what you want,” she whispers.

“i want this not to fall apart,” you say honestly, voice shaking. “i want to believe we’re okay.”

she nods, her thumbs brushing your ribs.

“then let me show you.”

you let her.

you fall back onto the couch and she follows, straddling you, her body a perfect fit against yours. she kisses you like she’s terrified it’s the last time—fingers in your hair, lips soft but urgent. you gasp as her mouth finds the hollow beneath your ear, your legs wrapping around her instinctively.

clothes come off in pieces, soft sighs and moans layered between kisses that grow deeper, needier. the city fades. the past fades. there’s only this: her hands, her voice, her name in your mouth like a lifeline.

“you’re still here,” billie says against your skin, as if reminding herself. “you’re still mine.”

“i always was.”

the moment breaks open—slow and aching, like a song caught between verses. her lips find their way down your body, reverent, lingering. she worships you like she’s afraid of losing the map of you. you arch into her, a breathless cry on your lips, your body already trembling beneath her.

“you’re everything,” she breathes, eyes locked with yours. “you hear me? everything.”

and you do.

you let go in her arms, falling hard, falling free, every part of you unraveling into the safety of her touch. she follows, shuddering against your skin, burying her face in the curve of your neck.

for a long time, there’s only breath and heartbeat. only warmth.

when you finally speak, it’s a whisper in the dark.

“i think i’m scared of how much i love you.”

billie pulls back, her eyes shining even in the low light. she presses her forehead to yours again, like she did when you first walked through her door tonight.

“i’m not,” she says.

and somehow, that’s enough.

you fall asleep with her arms around you, the city still glowing outside, the ocean singing somewhere far off—but no longer calling you away. tonight, you stay.

<3 taglist ; @silverspringsstare @bilssturns @bilswifee @delilahsturniolo @strnilolover @dollarsbills ( reply here to be added )

a/n ; wrote this while i was high LMAO