During the show in San Francisco, Ezra had once again called Billie out on stage. Though she had figured it was a one off the first time, he made it more than apparent that she would join him every night until the end of the tour. When she shared that stage with him, the way he sang to her and his fans sparked something in her chest she couldn't quite place. It was as if he was finally connecting with the world, and the world was finally seeing him for who he truly was. 

When their show ended and the buses headed down to Las Vegas, Billie and Ezra spent a majority of their night talking. Each new day brought them one step closer to the tour ending and their future together starting. He explained his plans of inviting his mother to their final show in Los Angeles, and how he wanted her to meet Billie. Part of her wondered how they had managed to end up in this stage of their relationship with such a rough start. Now, she couldn't imagine her life without Ezra. Billie couldn't imagine sharing a stage with anyone else.

She couldn't help but think of the note that Evelyn had left along with the confirmation of her investment in The Collective. Every dream she had imagined was coming true. They would be playing their own set in a major festival before the tour was over, and the one person she thought would get in her way would be right by her side.

When the two finally dozed off and awoke at the venue, Billie was whisked away by Monica to begin preparing for their late afternoon set. Such a last minute addition to the festival without a soundcheck made girlcrush nearly unreachable for a majority of the morning. Before she had left his bus, Ezra promised he'd be in the wings watching her performance. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," he assured with a smile.

Though she hadn't heard from him since that morning or right before going out on stage, Billie was far too wrapped up in the adrenaline of performing for such a large crowd to notice. As she takes the stage with the girls, the roaring crowd sets her soul on fire.

The music begins, and the cheers grow louder. She looks out to the sea of people before pressing her eyes shut and beginning to sing. The music overtakes her like it had done so many times before. It carries her through a majority of her set until she finally looks toward the empty wing.

Her mind doesn't even register that he's not there. Ezra was likely busy preparing for his own set later in the evening or perhaps they were doing an interview. Grand Motel had been bombarded by multiple media outlets ever since Billie and him had gone public. It's funny how they had somehow both put their bands on the map.

As their set ends, the girls say goodnight to the crowd and make their way off stage. She can't help the warmth and joy radiating from her soul. Her eyes frantically search for Ezra as they make their way behind the stage and into an exclusive area for artists. The girls are far too preoccupied with their high from performing to notice that no member of Grand Motel had shown up to watch their performance or at least congratulate them afterwards.

"Has anyone seen the boys?" Billie questions while a crew member hands them bottles of water.

"No," Callie remarks with furrowed brows, "That's weird. Jude said everyone was going to be watching our set."

"They probably got caught up in some shit," Daria offers, attention far more focused on the artists roaming around than the lack of Grand Motel.

"Yeah," Sloane confirms, "I'm sure we'll catch up with them later."

"I'm just gonna go check the tour bus," Billie states to no one in particular. She doesn't want to ruin their euphoria all over her impatience to see Ezra.

As she makes her way to the back of the private area into the sectioned off lot for vehicles and tour buses, there's an utter stillness she can't place. The soft bass of a set occurring on the opposite side of the gigantic venue is barely above a hum in the lot. She takes a moment to breathe in the calm, knowing this will likely be the last time she'll experience another silent moment like this for a long while.

As Billie begins to weave through the dozens of buses, the flashing of ambulance lights practically stuns her until she finds the source right near their buses. Jude is standing outside, stature crumpled and face ghostly pale. He barely seems coherent with his eyes fixed on the ground. Billie's stomach sours as she realizes the ambulance is here for them.

"What happened?" She croaks, throat and mouth painfully dry as her feet carry her towards Jude. She nearly trips over herself in an attempt to get there quicker when his melancholy eyes finally lift to reach her.

Jude looks at her with an emotion she can't place. It's somewhat like the way he had looked at Billie the night he caught her and Ezra grinding on each other in that club. Finally, Billie understands the emotion he could hide then but not now. Jude is looking at her with pity, as if he had known something long before she did.

"No," she begs, voice cracking under the weight of her realization that Ezra is in there. Her fingertips reach out for the door handle of the bus before his calloused hands wrap around her wrist.

"Billie," Jude rasps, "You can't go in there." Now, he's placed himself as a physical barrier between her and the entrance. She can hear the muffled sounds of radios and frantic mumbling, and her stomach twists.

"But he's in there!" She practically yells, though her tone is broken. Jude does not budge, red eyes burning into hers. "Move!" She begs, but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

"They're taking him to the hospital," Jude explains, "and he'd never forgive me if I let you in there."

"O-Oh god," she bellows, "Is he —" She begins, but is cut off by the shake of Jude's head.

She can feel an unknown weight lift from her chest just enough so that she can catch her breath. Ezra is alive. The pause of relief is enough to make Jude wince. Tears begin streaming down his cheeks, and Billie begins to grow frantic at the notion that he may not be alive for long. She needs to see him, needs to see that he's okay.

Once more, she attempts to sidestep Jude. Yet, he's much quicker and stronger than her. Without thinking, Billie moves to shove at his frame. She's so blinded by her rage and worry, that her body no longer becomes her own. She slams her fists into his chest, frustrated breaths pushing out of her lungs as tears blur her vision. Over and over again, she begs him to move.

Jude remains firm in his stance, though, not even phased by her acts of aggression. He would not move. He would not let her see him, not like this. Billie begins to wonder if she would ever see Ezra again. Finally, her body grows weak, and she begins to crumple. Jude reaches for her balled fists to keep her steady, and Billie collapses against him.

She buries her face in his chest and begins to sob. He grips her tightly, arms wrapped around her petite frame as a form of comfort and protection. Her wails practically conceal the sound of the bus door opening. Still, she attempts to pull away from Jude to catch a glimpse of Ezra, but he refuses to let her see. Instead, he holds her tighter and keeps her head nestled against his frame.

Billie doesn't have the strength to force herself off of him. She had been treading water for what felt like hours, and now she wants to succumb to the waves of anguish. She didn't have the heart to see him unconscious or in whatever state he was currently in. As the ambulance doors close, Billie succumbs to another wave. She feels so utterly helpless, and her stomach twists at the notion that Ezra had been likely overdosing while she was up on stage.

He would've died alone in that bus. He would've died alone, like his father. With that thought, a 63 burns into the back of her mind.

She begins to gag, body growing stiff. Jude pulls away from her, and Billie immediately leans over to vomit. Within a few moments, a soft hand rubs at the small of her back. Her entire body quakes as she vomits once more.

"It's okay," Monica assures, "It's going to be okay."

Billie can't bring herself to look up from her pool of bile. Her eyes, instead, shift to focus on the emerging feet of her bandmates before her world stills once more.

✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ

Ezra had, in fact, overdosed. Once admitted into the hospital, his blood panel confirmed copious amounts of sedatives and cocaine in his system. Jude had found him unconscious and unresponsive on the couch before girlcrush's show. At first, he didn't think Ezra was breathing and began performing CPR before getting Ambrose to call 911 once he found a pulse. Ezra remained unconscious for nearly sixteen hours since then.

Meanwhile, Billie camped out in the waiting room with Jude and Ambrose. She refused to leave, eat, or even sleep during his evaluation. Finally, she was briefed on his condition by Jeff and invited up to Ezra's room to visit once he had awoken. The boys decided to wait downstairs to give the two some privacy. Before they parted, Jude again looked at her as if he knew something she did not.

Though she had gone through a range of emotions during the agonizing wait, Billie can't muster a single one as she makes her way towards his room. She feels sucked dry and empty. Her mind had raked over every detail of the day before, trying to piece together what could have possibly caused him to break his sobriety. Then, Billie began to wonder if he had ever been sober at all.

As she opens the door to his room, she's greeted by those familiar stormy irises. They're once more adorned with dark circles, even though he had been sleeping peacefully for so many hours. Ezra appears stoic with his lips pursed together and a neutral expression. As she steps closer to take a seat by his bed, Billie notices he had been crying. His eyes are rimmed with a sort of redness that matches hers.

They sit there in silence for a long time while looking at each other before Billie reaches out for his hand. Ezra nearly flinches at her touch before squeezing her hand gently. "I'm so glad you're okay," she rasps, a wavering breath of relief slipping past her lips.

"I'm okay," he replies, voice hoarse and broken. Yet, his words are not convincing. It becomes clear to her that Ezra wasn't okay and hadn't been for a long time now. Moreover, she could not make him better on her own. "I take it you heard the rest of the tour is canceled," he adds bitterly.

"I did," she nods, "but you know that doesn't matter to me."

"It should," he insists, "The only thing anyone is going to remember about it now is what I've done."

"Don't say that," she cautions, hand squeezing his when she feels his grip soften, "This is a good thing. We're gonna get you the help you've been needing without any distractions now."

He grows silent. Lip quivering once more while his eyes flicker towards the ceiling. It looks as if he's debating something before he glances back at her. "I lied to you," he admits.

"It's okay," she assures, thumb rubbing at the back of his hand.

"I was never sober," he rasps, and Billie can feel her stomach drop. Ezra had convinced her she was worried for nothing, that he was sober and getting better by the day. Now, it's clear none of it was true. Part of her begins to wonder what else was a lie.

She sucks in a shaky breath, unable to conceal her disappointment. Billie walks back through their past few weeks together, and the fantasy unravels with every step. "Not even in New York?" She questions after exhaling.

He shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes. "I thought I had a handle on it."

"Okay," Billie replies weakly, tone barely above a whisper. She looks at his wrist, eyes focused on that numbered tattoo before sucking in another breath. "It's okay. You're gonna check yourself in somewhere, and you're going to get better."

Ezra nods once more, unable to add any other assurance. Still, the affirmation that he was going to get real and tangible help means more to her than he likely knows.

"I'm sure there's some really good facilities out in New York," she assures, "We can figure out which one is best, and that way I can be close by." Her final words dwindle down as she watches the change in his demeanor, and Billie's heart sinks.

Ezra stiffens in such a way — eyes flickering to the ceiling once more — that alerts her he had no intentions of going to New York any longer. "Or did you find a facility in California?"

"It's right outside of the city," he explains softly, "and all my things are still in LA. This place had only one opening, and I figured I better take it."

"Okay," Billie nods, "Good. That's good. When are you checking in?"

"Tomorrow," Ezra replies, and Billie can feel her chest ache. She knows it's selfish and wrong, but the thought of him leaving her in the midst of this chaos is too much to bear.

"That's good," she affirms once more, "I just ... need to get some things together, and I can move out to LA within the week. Maybe I could just stay in your apartment until I find —"

"Willow," he interrupts with such a broken tone that Billie practically tenses.

"I know you're going to be in treatment, but at least I can be near you if you need me. And then, when you're doing better I can —"

"Willow," Ezra interrupts once more, this time his tone much more firm. "You're not moving to LA."

"Yes, I am," she insists. Her grip on his hand only grows tighter as his hold grows limp.

"You're going to stay in New York and work on The Collective," he corrects, eyes burning into hers.

"Well then, I'll fly out —"

"Billie," he interrupts, and she grows silent. That name had not been in his vocabulary since Phoenix. In fact, Billie was certain she'd never hear him call her it again, and something between them severs because of it.

Her head firmly shakes, unwilling to obey his commands. "You can't push or scare me away, Ezra. If you think this makes me love you any less, it doesn't. I'm going to be right by your side."

"I don't want you to be." The words come out harsh and cold. Billie can feel hot tears stream down her cheeks as Ezra pulls his hand away to wipe at tears of his own. "Look, I just need to do this on my own. I haven't tried getting sober for myself, and you'll only make it difficult."

She can feel her entire body grow tense once more. Billie is certain she's going to be sick, body slumping back into her chair. She tries to rationalize his words, tries to decode them for any plea for help. Still, Billie comes up short.

"Are you ... breaking up with me?" She questions timidly, mind still reeling with an explanation for his sudden change in behavior.

"Yes," he affirms with a tone more certain than it's been since she walked in. Billie can feel her heart crack in two. She blinks back at him for a few seconds with hope he'll rescind his confirmation, but Ezra remains silent.

"So, that's it then," she admits after a long moment of recalibration, "You're going to LA, and I'm headed back to New York. All because you've decided it's over."

"I can't love you like this," he replies weakly.

"I don't care," she insists, "You're giving up on us before we even had a chance. I'm not going to walk out on you. I have enough love for the both of us. I don't need you to do anything except get better."

"I can't," he croaks, eyes no longer able to meet hers, "I can't get better if we're involved." The longer the two sit there, the more Billie realizes that Ezra had his mind made up before she even walked through the door. Perhaps it had been decided long before today.

"Don't do this," Billie pleads, "Please, don't."

"This was never going to work out," he scoffs bitterly, "I mean, seriously, you had to have known this was coming with someone like me."

"If you mean that I expected you to be here breaking up with me, then no. I didn't."

"Then you didn't know me very well," he replies, "This would've never worked out outside of the tour. I was only going to get worse."

"I know you, Ezra. And my love for you is not in spite of your addiction," Billie grits out, "I know you love me, too. I know you think you're doing what's best for me, but I'm not weak. I can —"

"It's not enough," he interjects brokenly, defeated shrug rolling off his shoulders. "I wish it was, but it's not."

Something inside Billie finally breaks. It's as if her will to fight for him and everything else suddenly disappears. "Alright," she finally replies, "I just want what's best for you. And if this is it, then I don't want to make it any more difficult. I won't beg you."

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Do you ... want me to go?" She asks, and Ezra nods while her heart finally shatters. "Can I give you a hug goodbye, at least?" She adds, tears streaming down her cheeks once more.

Ezra nods again, eyes meeting hers before she moves from her seat and leans over the bed to offer her embrace. Her arms hook awkwardly around the back of his neck while he grips onto the fabric of her shirt.

Though Billie tries to keep her composure, the comforting scent of cedar and clove consumes her. She realizes she will likely never smell it again. Her body begins to shake as she chokes back sobs. All the while, Ezra remains perfectly still.

She doesn't want to let go. Not now, not ever. But it appears he already has, and Billie finally wills herself to as well.

"You know how to reach me if you ever want to," Billie offers before meeting his eyes once more. Ezra nods while white knuckling the sheets by his side.

As she pulls open the door to exit, she allows herself to look at him one more time. It's not the way she wants to imagine him in their parting, but she'll take what she can get. She burns his tired, red eyes, his haphazard tattoos running along his arms and hands, and his messy, dark brown curls into her memory. He stares back intently, as if doing the same.

"I'm still singing for you, Ezra Moore," she manages to get out while palming at her stray tears.

"And I'm still singing for you, Wilhelmina Fields," he assures with a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The last thing she sees is his smile as the door slowly closes between them. Billie presses her eyes shut for a moment to remember the curves of his lips and even wills herself to envision his devilish grin and the smell of cherry candies. When it becomes nearly too much, her eyes flutter open, and she begins to head down the hall.

Something inside her knew that Ezra would not reach out. He would not call, write, or show up on her doorstep one night after months of radio silence. Whatever had transpired between them had slipped through their fingers, but perhaps it had never been theirs in the first place.

Billie had been so consumed with the fear that girlcrush and she would be inescapably tied to Grand Motel and Ezra Moore. Now, she wishes nothing