10. Just friends

Bill:
We talk for hours, losing track of time until the first light of morning filters through the curtains.

I know I should be exhausted, but I’m not. Not even a little.

Then, for the first time all night, silence settles between us. And in that silence, something shifts. I can feel it in the way my chest tightens, in the way my eyes flicker away from hers.

I need a moment.

"You want some coffee? Breakfast?" I ask, keeping my voice light.

She watches me, and for a second, I wonder if she sees through it. “Coffee’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”

I nod, pushing to my feet. I step out and close the door behind me, exhaling as soon as I’m alone.

I walk toward the kitchen, noticing the coffee machine is already on.

I look around the room, but don't see anyone. Not Leen, not Tom. Maybe they already left.

I grab two mugs, putting them under the coffee machine.

As I watch them fill up my mind wanders off, to the last moment together we had four years ago.

"Bill, you have to go." She whispers, her eyes open slowly. "I can't say goodbye to you, I just can't."
"Come with me." My voice is quiet, desperate. One last attempt.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see the answer before she says it.

Silence stretches between us, heavy and painful. Then she leans in, pressing her lips to mine, lingering there like she’s trying to memorize the way we fit together. I don’t pull away. I can’t.

When she finally does, her fingers trace the side of my face, and I close my eyes for a second, just feeling her touch.

Then she’s moving, getting out of bed and tugging me up with her. I follow without thinking.

"Please, just go," she says, her voice breaking as a tear slips down her cheek.

I reach up, wiping it away with my thumb, then press a soft kiss to her forehead. I want to stay in this moment, hold onto it before it slips away completely. "I love you," I say, my voice shaky.

Her tears fall faster now, and I can’t hold mine back any longer.

"Maybe we can make it work?" I ask, knowing deep down what her answer will be.

She shakes her head. "No."

But then she kisses me again, and for a second, I let myself believe. I kiss her back, hard, my hands gripping her like I can keep her here. Our tears mix between us, but I don’t care.

She pulls away.

"I have to break up with you," she whispers against my lips. "I'm breaking up with you." Her voice trembles, but she kisses me again, her arms tightening around my neck like she doesn’t want to let go either.

But she does.

"Please, go." Her voice still trembling and she pushes me away.

I shake my head, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "I love you," I tell her again, because I need her to know. Tears slip down my face, but I don’t bother wiping them away.

"Bill, please."

I nod, my chest aching as I hold her gaze one last time. Then I turn and leave, closing the door behind me.

—

The quiet beeping of the coffee machine pulls me from my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. I blink, a tear escapes from my eyes, tracing a warm path down my cheek.

I wipe it away with the back of my hand and clear my throat.

I reach for a mug, adding milk and sugar, just how she likes it. Then I grab my own, wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic.

Taking a deep breath, I turn and make my way back to my room.


Evi:
A few minutes later, he returns with two mugs, the steam curling into the air as he hands me one.

Our fingers brush as I take it, and when I lift the cup to my lips, I pause. One sip, and a familiar warmth spreads through me.

My eyes meet his. “You remembered.” A soft smile tugs at my lips—it’s perfect, made exactly how I like it.

Bill shrugs like it’s nothing, taking a slow sip from his own mug. “How could I forget?"

I can't quite put my finger to it, but something feels off. We talked all night, yet now, he seems distant—somewhere else entirely.

We sip our coffee in silence, the warmth doing little to ease the growing chill between us. I watch him, his eyes heavy-lidded and shadowed from lack of sleep. Maybe that's it. Maybe he's just tired. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

I'm holding the empty cup with both hands. Trying to find something to break this unsettling silence.

"You have rehearsals today?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, we’re flying back to L.A. tonight."

My stomach drops. "Wait… you’re leaving? Tonight?"

Bill nods, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stares into his coffee, absently tracing the rim of the mug with his thumb.

I swallow hard, my grip tightening around my empty cup. “Tonight?” I repeat, not able to hide the tremble in my voice.

A bitter laugh escapes me before I even realize it. “I broke up with my boyfriend for you, and you’re just—leaving?"

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto mine. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” His voice is sharp, defensive.

I let out a breath, shaking my head in disbelief. “Seriously, Bill? So what was this, then? You just came back to mess up my life and then disappear?”

“Of course not! But my life is in L.A. You know that. We came here to prepare for the Europe tour, not to move back.”

I scoff, looking away as frustration and hurt coil in my chest. “Right. So I was just supposed to be okay with you showing up, turning everything upside down, and then leaving like it was nothing?”

Bill rubs a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. “It’s not nothing,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

"You said breaking up with him had nothing to do with me." His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s asking me.

"Because it doesn’t," I sigh. "But—"

"I'm sorry," he interrupts, shaking his head. "I got carried away when I saw you again, but…" He exhales sharply, his fingers tightening around his mug. His eyes flicker to mine.

I hold his gaze for a moment, my chest tightening. Slowly, I nod and set my mug down, my fingers tracing the rim before pulling away.

"I understand," I say as I push myself up from the couch, but before I can take a step, his hand wraps around mine, pulling me back down beside him.

My breath catches as I turn to face him, my eyes searching his. The look in his eyes makes my chest tighten.

"Bill, what do you want from me?"

He swallows, his grip tightening for a brief second. "Can we… be friends?"

I blink, taken aback. "You wanna be friends?" I ask, my voice laced with disbelief.

He nods, but I see the hesitation flicker in his eyes.

"Yes?" His voice is soft, almost unsure.

I exhale slowly, shaking my head. "I can't be your friend," I murmur, slipping my hand from his grasp. I turn away, staring at the floor, because looking at him any longer might break me.

"We can't ever be 'just friends'."