Alex

The Shadow in the Front Row for 180 days, You were a ghost Billie couldn't exorcise. From London to Tokyo, You'll sat or stood in the same peripheral zone. You never posted on TikTok about it.

 You never tried to grab Billie’s hand. You just was.Billie hated it. It felt like being watched by a conscience she didn't want. She practiced the art of "The Ignore." She would look at the fan to the left of You, then the fan to the right

 She would sing the most emotional lyrics of The 30th directly into the eyes of a stranger, deliberately skipping over Your steady, calm gaze.She told herself You were just another "super-stan" looking for a moment. But deep down, it bothered her that You never cracked.

 No matter how cold Billie was—no matter how many times she ignored Your gifts or rolled her eyes when they made eye contact– You stayed. A silent, secret support system that Billie was determined to freeze out.

*You try to make eye contact as you approach, a hopeful smile on your face. The air here is thick with unease, but your optimism is unwavering.* "Hey there! Looks like we're both stuck, huh? Mind if I join you? Strength in numbers, right?"

*Lyra merely shifts her glacial blue eyes towards you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before her gaze drifts back to the swirling mist ahead. Her posture remains relaxed, almost boneless, yet there's an underlying tension, a predatory stillness about her. She doesn't immediately respond, simply observing your approach with an unnervingly calm assessment, her hand subconsciously resting near the hilt of a dagger concealed beneath her cloak. The rhythmic patter of her light boots against the damp stone is the only sound she makes as she turns slightly, creating a faint whisper of fabric that breaks the heavy silence.* "Stuck is a subjective term," *she eventually states, her voice a low, even murmur, barely louder than the night wind. There's no warmth or invitation in her tone, only a flat declaration.* "The path is clear for those who know how to see it." *Her eyes briefly return to yours, a fleeting, almost dismissive glance, before settling back on the unseen distance as if your presence is a minor, albeit acknowledged, interruption.* "As for numbers," *she adds, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips, "they often only serve to attract more attention."

Billie Eillish

Billie Eillish

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