Chapter 12

(Inspired by Billie sharing her love for horses and riding. Iris meets Billie through mutual friends at a ranch. Billie is completely different there..quiet, messy hair, no makeup, laughing freely. Iris falls for that version of her. And Billie falls for the fact that, around Iris, she doesn’t feel like she’s performing.)

The ranch was the kind of place that didn’t feel real at first glance.

Too open.

Too quiet.

Too honest.

Like the world had been stripped of everything unnecessary and left only with what mattered..earth, wind, animals, and time moving slower than anyone in the city remembered it could.

Iris noticed that immediately.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was full.

Full of breathing land. Distant hooves. Wind dragging through dry grass like a hand brushing through memory.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped out of the car.

Dust rose slightly beneath her boots.

Somewhere in the distance, a horse shifted its weight and exhaled.

It felt like entering a different version of reality.

One that didn’t ask anything of her.

At least not yet.

—

“Iris!”

A voice called from near the stable.

She turned.

One of her mutual friends waved her over, standing beside a group of people already gathered near the fence.

Laughter floated through the air.

Easy. Unforced.

Iris walked closer.

And that’s when she saw her.

Billie Eilish didn’t look like the version the world usually saw.

No stage presence.

No careful construction.

No armor.

Just… Billie.

Hair messy from the wind, pulled back in a loose, imperfect way like she had given up trying to control it.

Oversized shirt slightly wrinkled.

Jeans dusted at the knees.

Boots already worn in.

And her face..bare.

No makeup.

No distance.

Just expression.

Real.

She was laughing at something someone had said, head tilted back slightly, completely unguarded in a way Iris had never seen in photos, interviews, or videos.

And it hit her immediately.

This wasn’t the Billie Eilish people talked about.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone softer without trying to be.

Someone lighter without meaning to be.

Someone who didn’t look like she was performing existence.

“Hey,” her friend said, noticing Iris freeze slightly. “You okay?”

Iris blinked.

“Yeah. Just didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

“Ranch life?”

Iris shook her head slightly.

“No. Her.”

Her friend followed her gaze and smirked faintly.

“Oh. Yeah. That version of her is rare.”

Iris frowned slightly.

“What version?”

“The one that forgets she’s famous.”

As if on cue, Billie looked over.

Their eyes met.

Just briefly.

Not dramatic.

Not cinematic.

Just a moment of recognition passing between two strangers who weren’t strangers for long.

Billie gave a small wave.

Iris returned it.

Then Billie looked away again, already back in conversation, like it had been nothing.

But Iris felt it anyway.

That tiny shift.

Like something had clicked somewhere she couldn’t name yet.

—

Later, they were introduced properly.

“Billie, this is Iris.”

Billie turned toward her more fully this time.

“Hi,” she said simply.

Same word.

Different weight.

Iris nodded slightly.

“Hi.”

A pause.

Then Billie smiled.

Not the practiced kind.

Not the media kind.

Just a small, almost shy curve of her mouth.

“You’ve never been here before, right?”

Iris shook her head.

“No.”

Billie tilted her head.

“You’ll like it. It grows on you.”

“Does it?”

Billie nodded.

“Yeah. It stops feeling like silence after a while.”

That sentence stayed with Iris longer than she expected.

—

The first hour passed slowly.

Then faster.

Then strangely, time stopped feeling structured at all.

People moved between barns and fences and open fields.

Horses shifted and snorted and wandered like they owned the world more than anyone else did.

And Billie… changed.

Not in personality.

But in presence.

She got quieter.

Not withdrawn.

Just present in a different way.

Like something inside her unclenched.

She walked closer to the horses with ease.

Fingers brushing their necks gently.

Talking to them under her breath like they understood every word.

No cameras.

No audience.

No expectation.

Just her.

—

Iris watched from a distance at first.

She didn’t mean to.

It just happened.

There was something about the way Billie stood near the fence, resting her hand against a horse’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

No tension in her shoulders.

No awareness of being seen.

Just… ease.

“Why do you keep staring?”

The voice came from beside her.

Iris startled slightly and turned.

Billie had walked over without her noticing.

Dust on her boots.

Sunlight catching in her hair.

Iris hesitated.

“I’m not staring.”

Billie raised an eyebrow slightly.

“You were definitely staring.”

Iris exhaled softly.

“…Okay. Maybe a little.”

Billie smiled faintly.

“Is it weird?”

Iris shook her head.

“No. Just… different than I expected.”

Billie nodded slowly.

“I get that a lot.”

A pause.

Then softer:

“But this is the only place I don’t feel like I’m being looked at.”

Iris looked at her properly then.

“What do you mean?”

Billie leaned lightly against the fence.

“Even when people aren’t trying to look at me… they are.”

A shrug.

“It’s not bad. It’s just… constant.”

Iris stayed quiet.

Billie glanced at her.

“But here,” she added, “it’s just animals. They don’t care who I am.”

That landed softly.

Not sad.

Just honest.

A horse nearby shifted closer to the fence.

Iris instinctively stepped back slightly.

Billie noticed.

Didn’t comment.

Just said gently:

“You don’t have to be scared of them. They read you more than you read them.”

Iris frowned slightly.

“That sounds unsettling.”

Billie laughed softly.

“It is. At first.”

A pause.

Then she added:

“But they’re usually kinder than people think.”

Iris looked at the horse again.

Its head tilted slightly.

Watching her.

Not aggressively.

Just aware.

Iris hesitated.

Then slowly, carefully, raised her hand.

Billie didn’t move closer.

Didn’t guide her.

Just stayed beside her.

The horse stepped forward.

Iris froze slightly.

Billie spoke quietly.

“Just breathe.”

Iris did.

The horse exhaled softly against her palm.

Warm.

Real.

Alive.

Iris blinked.

And something in her chest loosened without permission.

Billie watched her.

Not intensely.

Just… softly.

Like she was noticing something she didn’t expect to matter as much as it did.

“You’re good at this,” Billie said quietly.

Iris let out a small laugh.

“I just stood here.”

Billie shook her head.

“No. Most people don’t even do that part.”

A pause.

Then softer:

“You didn’t rush it.”

Iris looked at her.

And for a second, neither of them spoke.

Wind moved through the field.

Somewhere a horse whinnied.

Everything felt too open to pretend anymore.

They ended up walking together later.

Not planned.

Just happening.

Along the edge of the fields where the grass grew taller and the world felt further away.

Billie talked about horses sometimes.

About how they were honest in a way people weren’t.

About how they didn’t perform emotion, they just had it.

Iris listened more than she spoke.

Not because she had nothing to say.

But because Billie sounded different here.

Less guarded.

Less sharp around the edges.

Like she had dropped something heavy she didn’t realize she was carrying.

—

At one point, Billie stopped walking.

Iris did too.

“What?” Iris asked.

Billie hesitated.

Then shook her head slightly.

“Nothing. Just… this is nice.”

Iris smiled faintly.

“Yeah?”

Billie nodded.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then, quieter:

“You’re easy to be around.”

Iris blinked slightly.

“Is that a compliment?”

Billie smiled.

“It is for me.”

That made Iris laugh softly.

As the sun began to lower, everything turned golden.

The field stretched longer in the light.

Shadows softened.

Even the air felt warmer.

Billie stood near the fence again, watching the horses move in slow patterns across the land.

Iris joined her.

This time closer.

Without thinking about it.

Billie didn’t move away.

Didn’t acknowledge it.

Just stayed.

“You’re different here too,” Iris said quietly.

Billie glanced at her.

“How?”

Iris thought for a moment.

“Less… aware.”

Billie smiled slightly.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then she admitted softly:

“I don’t feel like I have to be anything here.”

That sentence hung in the air for a moment.

Iris looked at her.

And realized something she didn’t want to name too quickly.

That version of Billie..quiet, bare, real..wasn’t just rare.

It felt like something people weren’t usually allowed to see.

And somehow she was seeing it.

The wind picked up slightly.

Billie’s hair moved across her face.

She didn’t fix it.

Didn’t care.

Iris noticed her watching the horses again.

Completely at peace in a way that felt almost fragile.

And without thinking too much about it, Iris said:

“I like this version of you.”

Billie turned her head slightly.

Not surprised.

Just… present.

“Yeah?”

Iris nodded.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Billie studied her for a moment.

Then smiled faintly.

“I like that you see it.”

Silence followed.

Not awkward.

Just full.

Like something had been acknowledged without being defined.

When they finally started walking back, the sun was nearly gone.

The sky stretched into soft orange and fading blue.

Billie brushed her shoulder lightly against Iris’s as they walked.

Not intentional enough to be dramatic.

Not accidental enough to ignore.

Just there.

Iris didn’t move away.

And Billie didn’t either.

Neither of them said what the day had started to become.

Neither of them named what it might turn into.

But as the ranch lights began to flicker on in the distance, Billie spoke softly:

“You should come back sometime.”

Iris looked at her.

Billie added, almost casually:

“The horses like you.”

Iris smiled.

“And you?”

Billie didn’t answer immediately.

Then, quieter than before:

“I think I might.”

And for some reason, that felt like the beginning of something neither of them were ready to understand yet…but both already felt.