Chapter Text
It’s one of those nights.
The place is too crowded, the music is too loud, and the drugs seem like too good an idea.
Daisy doesn’t know what terrifies her more; these things she's feeling right now or the thought of relapsing and waking up again on the damp bathroom floor after death knocking on her door.
It would be so easy. So easy to take a bill, roll it up, and inhale relief. And that’s what terrifies her the most. It’s so close at hand. Right there. She could just walk up to that guy who’s been staring at her for half an hour and ask for a taste of what he’s been sniffing all night. She could tease him, kiss him, invite him into a room, fuck him, and never see him again. She wouldn’t even have to ask his name. She wouldn’t care.
But something is stopping her.
She’s sick of being that person.
She’s sick of that vicious cycle.
It has become boring. Drugs have become boring. They’re not filling the void anymore.
Amidst the bustle of people, she turns around and walks out onto the balcony of the suite.
It’s Warren’s birthday and there are over fifty people dancing, getting high, making out, and going crazy while Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff plays in the background.
Daisy can’t take it anymore; the temptation. So she slips through the crowd and lights up a cigarette in the dark of the balcony. The cold night air helps her breathe a little better but doesn’t relieve anxiety.
She wishes she could just turn it off.
All of it.
She wishes it would get easy.
But, contrary to what she’s been thinking all night, the universe is on her side, ready to give her something better than a cigarette.
“Are you bored yet?” Billy asks, demanding her attention.
In the light coming from the suite, Daisy can make out a smile on his features. He also has a cigarette in his hand.
“You didn’t tell me abstinence was the worst part of it,” Daisy tells him.
“If we talked about what abstinence is really like, no one would want to get clean.”
“It’s shit. I hate feeling like this.” Daisy takes a puff on her cigarette as Billy moves cautiously in her direction.
Daisy hates that he’s acting like this towards her again. Like she’s some helpless, skittish animal that’s going to run away at any moment.
Billy comes close and gently rests a hand on her shoulder, as if he doesn’t know how to comfort her. It’s sad because he really wants to make her feel better. Daisy can sense his good intentions. But his warm palm on her shoulder feels like too much, even with the fabric of the coat in the way.
It’s too much and too little at the same time.
“It gets better. I promise,” Billy says and smiles.
It’s torture.
Having him this close and not being able to touch him is torture.
“I know it’s not easy for you either,” Daisy says. It’s nice to be able to take the mask off for a while. It’s nice to have someone who understands.
Billy shrugs and withdraws his hand. Daisy wishes he hadn’t. “I know when I’m at my limit,” he says, unconcerned, though Daisy knows he’s not.
Billy is never unconcerned…or carefree..or relaxed.
He’s always worried about something.
He’s always frowning or hurting or…
“Do you wanna get out of here?” Billy offers, leaving her puzzled for a moment.
“Where are we going?” questions Daisy because the idea of going to a room alone with him doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.
At all.
“I don’t know. Let’s just…get out of here.”
It’s dangerous, but Daisy can’t say no.
She may not be able to afford drugs anymore, but she can afford something just as good; Billy’s company.
She’s also a masochist, and she knows it. But she’s already too deep in the river. She’s in the middle of the current, too deep. The only way out is to let go, to let the water take her to shore, even if she ends up hurt.
She knows she will get hurt in the end.
And she should say no because Billy makes her feel weak. But he smiles at her and she nods.
“Okay.”
Back in the suite, the party is in full swing. Billy’s hand reaches for hers and their pinkies intertwine to keep from getting lost in the euphoria of the crowd. Daisy feels it’s the most magical thing that has happened to her in the last few months.
Later, she will laugh at herself for getting excited about something so small. She has already kissed him, hugged him, and been very, very close to his face on stage, yet this silly thing, their pinkies intertwined makes her stomach tingle. It’s childish and silly and she feels like a teen girl in love.
She bites her lips to keep from letting the smile win.
Billy guides her towards the exit, not letting go. He doesn’t let go until they’re at the elevator doors.
“Change of plans,” Billy says suddenly. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Daisy smiles, interested. “What?”
“I wrote something.”
Fifteen minutes later, they’re both in Billy’s room, sitting on the carpet. He has his guitar in his arms and she watches him intently as he sings to her the verses he wrote the night before.
It’s suggestive lyrics. It’s provocative and alluring. It’s everything they shouldn’t talk about while alone. And Daisy realizes how much she likes this feeling; knowing they’re always the first to listen to each other’s ideas. It’s an exciting secret. Something theirs and theirs alone.
“So...?” Billy asks when he's finished. “What do you think?”
“What was your inspiration?” Daisy asks.
She knows it’s not about Camilla. It can’t be. It wouldn’t make sense.
It’s obviously not about her. Why would he write something like this about Camila? It doesn’t make fucking sense.
“I just...got inspired,” Billy says, putting his guitar aside. Daisy looks at him, waiting for something else. He continues. “I just...felt it.”
“You’re such a hypocrite,” Daisy says and smiles sweetly at him.
Her words seem so out of place and her smile is so charming that Billy can’t help but laugh.
They’re both laughing.
“Am I—what?” he says.
“Remember the first time we wrote together and you told me I should use fewer metaphors? This song’s full of them.” Daisy picks up Billy’s notebook and points to the verses she just heard.
Billy laughs again. This time, it’s a soft laugh. She likes it too much. She also likes the dimples in his cheeks.
“Some things are better to use metaphors for.”
Daisy nods. “Sex,” she says, amused. “It’s a song about sex.”
Billy doesn't deny it, but his brow furrows. “It’s...about wanting something forbidden. And how dangerous it is to have it at your fingertips.”
“I thought it might be about addiction, but you said—” Daisy reads the notebook for the exact phrase, the one she memorized right away “—you flutter like a flag, in territory that doesn’t belong to me. I want to hoist you with my mouth, to be the mast you glide down.” She looks at him. “It’s very suggestive. I’ve never heard you sing anything like that.”
“I’d like to try new things for the next album,” Billy says, ignoring the suggestive part. He gets up to go get a bottle of water. “I want to surprise people.”
“Billy Dunne getting out of his comfort zone?” she teases.
He shrugs. “I’ve learned not all changes are for bad.”
“So…you just tried something new, that was your inspiration, trying something new?”
It sounds so stupid. They both know this isn’t just a song. This isn’t just an experiment. Billy has never written just a song. He can’t.
Daisy walks over to the window and opens it. She lights a cigarette and leans against the frame.
“I like it,” she says. “The song. I like it.”
“I was hoping you’d help me tweak it.”
“There’s not much to do to it.” Daisy takes a drag on her cigarette and looks out at the dark, light-filled city.
Billy laughs. He really laughs. It’s so genuine it baffles Daisy.
“What?” she says, looking at him through the smoke billowing from between her fingers.
“Nothing, it’s just...I’m surprised you don’t want to change anything about it.”
“Do you want me to rewrite it? Because you know I’d do it.”
“No. I just want us to work on it together.”
“It works, Billy. The way you wrote it, it works.”
Deep down, she thinks working together on a song like that is too dangerous for two people who have been repressing feelings for months. It’s dangerous for her to write something like that with the man she loves and can’t have.
It’s playing with fire in a house flooded with fuel.
She really thinks it’s a good song and has potential, but she doesn’t want to work with Billy on it. It’s torture enough to have him around every day.
Daisy turns to the window again. She wishes she could just leave the room, but Billy comes closer and seeks her eyes with his.
“I don’t believe you. I know there are things you’d modify. You can’t fool me, Daisy,” he says. His voice turns soft with the next words. “I was hoping we’d work on it together.”
Daisy looks into his eyes the way he wants her to. She’s not smiling, but she’s not serious either, just sad. She offers the cigarette to Billy and he takes a puff before handing it back to her.
Then Billy adds something that is equal parts painful and beautiful.
“You’re the only person I can talk to about this stuff,” Billy says, still looking at her. “I mean—you’re the only one I can talk to about absolutely everything. No taboos. You’re the only one who always understands what I mean.”
You’re the only one...
Is she?
She isn’t high. She isn’t drunk either. Whatever decision she makes tonight—good or bad—is entirely her responsibility, there will be no substance to blame.
So, when she nods, she’s aware she’s stepping into a minefield.
“Okay, let’s work on it,” she says finally.
✽✽✽
It’s easier than Daisy imagined. Billy is right. When they're together, there are no taboos, they can talk about whatever they feel like talking about without feeling self-conscious, embarrassed, or judged.
Daisy hasn’t had anything like this with anyone before. She’s never felt so free to be herself.
They’re writing a song about wanting someone. They’re writing a song about one of the most primal states of humans, and it’s not uncomfortable or overwhelming. It’s actually very liberating. It’s art. It’s letting their shadows come out to play. It’s being naked in front of each other without taking off their clothes.
They can’t do it, but they can talk about it.
It’s two in the morning and Daisy is lying on her stomach on the carpet, laughing at what Billy just told her.
“Where do you get that stuff?” Daisy asks.
“I read a lot, Daisy. When I was in rehab, I read a lot,” he says.
“And you found out people have been using ‘fuck’ as a synonym for having sex since the year 1475?”
“I kept the tidbit in case it was useful someday. But I don’t think we should use ‘fuck’ in this song.”
Daisy laughs again. Billy lights a cigarette and manages to take barely a puff before Daisy takes it from him. They’ve been sharing cigarettes all night. A shared one feels better.
“Can I ask you something?” Daisy says and hands the cigarette back to Billy.
“Go ahead. You’re gonna ask it anyway.” He rests his arms on the guitar on his legs.
“What’s your favorite part?”
Billy thinks about it for a moment. “The moment before. You know...”
“The teasing?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Daisy smiles cockily.
“Why?”
“Because you like to be in control. I’m sure you enjoy doing things to turn a woman on. It’s action and reaction. It’s satisfying. It’s her giving you control over her body.”
Billy smiles and holds her gaze. “Also because if she enjoys it, I enjoy it.”
Daisy tosses him the pencil and he laughs. “Liar. Men only care about being satisfied themselves.”
“Sounds like you’ve been with a lot of assholes,” Billy says and takes a puff on his cigarette. When he releases the smoke, he does so in Daisy’s direction.
She shrugs. “I just don’t care. My favorite part is—”
Billy waits for her to go on, but she doesn’t. He’s never been this curious about anything before.
The light is soft and there’s smoke between them. Daisy wants to kiss him, but she knows she can’t. A kiss would ruin the whole night. It would ruin the song.
Yet, when Billy goes back to blowing smoke out of his mouth, she moves a little closer. He leans towards her until their faces are so close they can feel each other's breath, and playfully, he passes the smoke from his mouth to Daisy’s. She sucks it in as if it were life force. Like all the parts of Billy she wants and can’t have.
She closes her eyes and he strokes her cheek. “He never did it for you, did he?” he asks. Daisy knows he’s talking about her ex-husband.
She shakes her head ever so slightly. She can’t tell him that it's not that Niccolo sucked at it, it’s that he was the wrong person.
When Daisy opens her eyes, she takes the cigarette from Billy and lies on her back on the carpet.
“We should finish the song,” she says.
But Billy puts the guitar aside and lies down next to her. He’s too close. Their hands are touching and Daisy’s heart is pounding.