[maidstone] objects in space { phillip }

Water? Her mouth was starting to feel sort of dry and gross. She needed to eat something, she thought, but the idea of eating made her feel mildly sick. It’d have to be the right kind of food, maybe? Billie didn’t know how this all worked; she didn’t have enough experience.

She ignored his words.

“Phillip,” she said through her hands, indulging in the way it felt good to say his name. This was perhaps the only place it felt good, she thought distantly; whenever he’d come up, even very indirectly, with Ken or Killian or Nola or whoever else, Billie had only felt trepidation. She always stilled, tensed just a tiny bit when she knew other people might say it, and she tried to avoid mentioning him herself. She didn’t think he’d ever want it to come out of his lips.

Here, though, it was just his name — Well, not just his name, but it was his name — it was appropriate and okay for her to say it here.

Billie loved his name. Loved how it matched with hers, loved how he spelled it differently depending on where he was writing it, depending on who would see it. Loved everything about it, really. Loved everything about him, too.

With some effort, the blonde straightened up where she was sitting, before her stupid thoughts could get the better of her. “I can’t think,” she mumbled, wiping under her eyes with her ring fingers. Billie felt like she was on the verge of too-much-talking again. Never in her life had a thought moved so quickly from brain to lip as it had tonight — it wasn’t something she enjoyed. For someone who spent so much time trying to pick out the right words, for someone who judged her own feelings so much more harshly than she would ever judge anyone else’s, it felt quite stressful.

She inspected her fingertips for makeup, but wasn’t really able to see much in the dark anyway. She wanted so badly to just lean into him again, put her head on his shoulder. “Can we… Would you talk about this stuff with me again…?” She sighed yet another heavy sigh, feeling wildly tired all of a sudden. Everything was catching up to her. She sat back a bit, against the table. Their arms touched. “When I can think, I mean,” she mumbled, meeting his eye, her eyebrows together in concern.

He had always liked how his name sounded when she said it, and Billie reminded him of that again. Like somehow it was better when she was saying it, or maybe he had just never thought about it before she had started saying it. Either way, he had missed it just as much as everything else. It was a silly thing to be thinking about now, but it was easier than thinking about the rest of it. Phillip was exhausted, and he was not even the post-panic attack, way past the only good parts about being drunk, one. He could imagine what she might have been feeling like now, and he hoped her head was not hurting too much. Water, food, quiet, and sleep; Phillip was not a big drinker, but he had been drunk enough times to know the next best steps.

She leaned into him again, and Phillip froze once again. Because she was drunk, he convinced himself it was only because sitting up was too much work right now. Nevertheless, her request was simple, and it wasn’t too much to ask, and surprisingly, Phillip wanted that too. “Yeah, we can,” He answered, taking a soft breath so he wouldn’t push her away by moving too much. “Whenever you want to.” Phillip finished the thought and looked at the top of her head pressed against him. At that moment, he thought about kissing her head but stopped himself. Old habits, old familiarities, and reminded himself he couldn’t do things like that anymore.

But at least they were talking again. That was something, progress even, and it felt kind of nice. Like peace or hope, like knowing things weren’t okay right now, but that maybe, with some luck, they might be again someday. Phillip couldn’t see how they got there, but right now, it was enough to know they were both willing to try. Phillip moved slowly, wrapping his arm around her back again because it felt like the right thing to do right now.