It had been building for days—weeks, really. The tour was dragging, the constant exhaustion starting to catch up with all of them. It wasn’t just the work. It was the weight of it—the endless cycle of airports, hours spent travelling from one place to another, hotels, and venues. They were all running on fumes, the cracks slowly starting to show. But Lucy had been trying to hold it together, to stay patient with Julien. She saw it: the way she pulled away more and more, the tightness in her shoulders, the way her words felt like they were clipped and distant. She wasn’t looking at her. And Lucy didn’t understand why. What the hell had happened?
Lucy wasn’t sure how to name it, but the silence between them had been loud for days, and the worst part was that it wasn’t Julien anymore. She was the one pulling away now, shutting her out, creating space where there had once been a safe place. Lucy had been trying to be patient, giving Julien space, but it was slowly wearing on her. Her frustration had been simmering, a quiet undercurrent beneath her every action. She hated that it was happening. She hated how they both felt so far from each other.
The tour bus felt like a cage. The walls closing in with every mile they drove, the constant hum of the engine buzzing in the background, a reminder that there was no escape. No space to breathe, no time to step away. Lucy felt it most at night, when the darkness was thick and all the lights were dim, and the sound of her own breathing seemed too loud. The bus was small, cramped. Everyone was always so close—too close. And right now, it felt suffocating.
Julien hadn’t said a word for hours. She had been distant, brooding, staring out the window with that far-off look in her eyes, like she wasn’t really here at all. It wasn’t unusual for Julien to retreat into herself, but this was different. This wasn’t the usual silence—it was heavy. And Lucy, as much as she had tried to ignore it, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
Lucy was sitting across from her, trying to read, but she couldn’t focus. She kept glancing at Julien, trying to figure out what was going on behind that unreadable expression. But every time their eyes met, Julien just looked away, like she couldn’t bear to hold Lucy’s gaze for too long.
The tension was building, slow at first, but insistent. Like the pressure in a bottle, getting tighter and tighter, until Lucy couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“What the hell is going on with you, Julien?” The words came out before she could stop them, sharp and pointed, a question laced with frustration. “You’ve been shutting me out for days, and I don’t even know why. What did I do?”
Julien didn’t answer. She just shifted in her seat, avoiding Lucy’s eyes like they were burning her. The silence that followed felt thick, suffocating.
Lucy’s patience wore thin. “Julien,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less intense, “I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on. But all you do is... nothing. I can’t keep doing this. I need to know what’s going on.”
Still, nothing. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, crawling over Lucy’s skin like static. It clung to her, each second of it tightening the knot in her stomach. The air felt charged, every breath she took sharp and shallow, as if she was trying to inhale something that didn’t exist. Julien sat there, a quiet figure across from her, eyes locked on the window like Lucy wasn’t even in the room. The stillness was suffocating—each second of it scraping at her patience, gnawing at her sense of calm.
Lucy’s pulse quickened, her fingers twitching with the need to say something, anything. But the silence... it wasn’t just empty—it felt full, loaded with unspoken things that Lucy couldn’t reach, couldn’t touch. It pressed on her chest, weighing down her ribs, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the feeling that something was breaking. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the quiet—it was the way it made her feel like she was drowning in it, like she was the only one suffocating.
“You’ve been so fucking cold,” Lucy continued, her tone getting sharper, the frustration bubbling over. “Like I’m not even in the room with you. And I’m supposed to just let you sit there and pretend nothing’s happening? Pretend I don’t see it? How you’re not pissed off at everything that’s ever happened in this godforsaken world?”
Still, nothing. Julien’s fingers curled around her phone, but she didn’t even bother to look at it. She was acting like she couldn’t care less.
“You’ve been a fucking ghost,” Lucy snapped, her patience splintering as she leaned in closer, her voice rising. “Like I’m talking to a wall and it’s driving me insane. What the hell is going on with you?”
Julien didn’t even flinch. She kept her gaze fixed on the road outside, her face stone-cold, like Lucy’s words couldn’t even touch her. The tension in the bus was suffocating. The silence between them was getting too heavy—every second of it felt like it was grinding against Lucy’s skin.
“Answer me,” Lucy demanded, louder now, her fists clenched by her sides. “What the hell did I do to deserve this? You can’t even look at me anymore. You act like I don’t exist.”
Julien’s fingers tightened around her phone, the grip almost painful. But still, she said nothing.
“Say something!” Lucy shouted, the words spilling out faster now, like a dam breaking. “What is it? You’ve been shutting me out for days, just letting this fucking silence build. And now I’m supposed to sit here and pretend everything’s fine when I know damn well it’s not? I’m sick of it!”
Julien finally turned to face her, eyes narrowed, her voice low but cutting. “I’m just fucking tired, alright? I’m tired of everything. Tired of pretending I’m okay. Tired of pretending you’re fine when you don’t get it. I don’t need this, Lucy. I don’t need you trying to fix me.”
Lucy’s stomach dropped. “Fix you? Fix me?” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “You think I’m trying to fix you? No, I’m trying to fucking reach you, but you keep pushing me away like it’s my fault you’re falling apart. You’re not alone, you fucking idiot. But you act like I’m the problem.”
Julien’s eyes flashed, her jaw clenched so hard it looked like she might snap it. “Maybe you are,” she shot back, her words sharp like a blade. “Maybe I can’t deal with you trying to peel me open every time I don’t smile, every time I don’t fit into your perfect little world. I’m not your fucking project, Lucy!”
Lucy was seething now, her hands trembling with anger. She stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare put this on me. Don’t you dare fucking blame me for your mess. You’re the one who shut down, not me. You’re the one who pushed me away, not the other way around.”
The air between them was thick now, both of them practically vibrating with the weight of what wasn’t being said. Lucy was done. She was on the verge of breaking, but her voice came out steady, cutting through the tension with a razor’s edge. “And if you’re so tired of me, Julien, then tell me. Say it. Stop acting like I’m supposed to read between the lines while you sit there and pretend nothing’s fucking wrong.”
The silence came again—only this time, it was worse. It felt colder. And Lucy could barely breathe, the weight of it threatening to choke her.
But before Julien could say another word, Phoebe’s quiet voice cut through the tension, trying to mediate.
“Guys, please, can we just—”
“Fuck off, Bridgers.” Lucy snapped, her voice venomous, eyes flashing. “It’s between me and her right now.”
Phoebe froze, her eyes wide with shock, like she hadn’t expected Lucy to lash out at her. She took a step back, a hand lifting slightly, unsure whether to reach out or just let the moment pass. The sudden shift in the air, the weight of Lucy’s words, hit her harder than she’d expected.
She wanted to say something, anything, to calm the storm crashing around them. But the words wouldn’t come. She just stood there, frozen, her mouth dry, feeling utterly helpless as the tension twisted in the air. Her eyes flicked from Lucy to Julien, desperate to find something she could do, some way to bring them back from the edge. But she couldn’t. The moment had already passed, and all she could do was watch, too scared to intervene further.
Julien’s head snapped to Lucy, a sharp, defensive movement. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” she bit out, the words clipped and venomous, her face a mixture of anger and something that looked like... fear?
Lucy’s chest heaved with the rush of emotion, but there was no fear in her voice. She stepped forward, not backing down. “Then fucking tell me what’s wrong, Julien,” she snapped. “I’m done pretending like I don’t know something’s off. You wanna keep quiet about it, then don’t expect me to sit here and take it.”
Her eyes burned with frustration, the rawness of the moment making her feel like she might explode. “Tell me,” she repeated, quieter now, but it wasn’t any less demanding. “Or just let me go if you’re so done with it all.”
Julien’s jaw tightened, the anger in her eyes flickering with something darker. She stepped closer, her voice low and edged with frustration. “Why the fuck do you even care, Lucy?” she shot back, the question almost venomous. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
Lucy blinked, the sharpness of the question stinging more than she expected. The weight of it, the rawness, almost knocked the wind out of her. She faltered for a second, her chest tight. “What do you mean?” she breathed, her voice strained, but her stance never wavered.
Julien’s eyes were wild now, her words like a blade cutting through the silence. “You keep asking like you’re the one who matters in all of this. Like your feelings should come first. What the hell do you think I’m doing, huh? Just sitting around waiting for you to solve me? You’re not the fucking hero in this.”
Phoebe flinched, her breath shallow, unable to hide how deeply Julien’s words cut, but she stayed silent, her gaze shifting between them.
Lucy’s blood boiled at the accusation, and her eyes hardened. “I’m not trying to be your hero, Julien,” she shot back, her voice gaining strength, matching the ferocity of Julien’s. “I’m just trying to be here. But if you want to pretend like I’m the problem, then fine. Keep pushing me away. But don’t act like you don’t care. Don’t pretend like this—” She waved her hand between them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. “—doesn’t matter.”
Julien’s face twisted with frustration, the anger still bubbling just beneath the surface. Her words cut through the air like a knife. “So what? Is this it, then? Is this how it ends?”
The question hung between them, and for a moment, Lucy’s heart stopped. The gravity of it slammed into her chest like a punch. Is this it? The thought nearly broke her.
But then, just as quickly, the anger surged again. Lucy shook her head, eyes flashing. “Oh hell no, man,” she snarled, stepping closer to Julien, every word packed with heat. “I am not ending this just because you can’t keep your shit together. Don’t act like this is my fault.”
Julien’s eyes locked onto hers, searching for something in the chaos of her expression. “So what the fuck do you want from me then, Lucy? You want me to just pretend everything’s fine when it’s not? When I’m not fine?”
Lucy’s chest tightened, but she wasn’t backing down. “I want you to talk, Julien,” she shot back, voice shaking with the tension. “I want you to stop pretending like we’re in two different worlds. I don’t want you to fall apart and expect me to just... stand here and watch. I’m right here, but you won’t let me in.”
The words hung in the air like a challenge, their weight suffocating, but Julien didn’t look away. Her gaze softened just a fraction, though the anger was still there, like a storm just waiting to explode again.
“Then don’t act like I don’t care,” Julien muttered, her voice low, but the edge was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable.
Lucy’s breath was shallow, the adrenaline still buzzing through her veins. She wanted to yell, to demand answers, but something in Julien’s voice softened the blow just enough for her to hear it.
“You think I don’t care?” Lucy’s voice cracked, the weight of the question knocking her back a step. She blinked hard, fighting to hold it together. “I’m fucking here, aren’t I? I’m trying to make sense of this shit with you, but you keep shutting me out like it’s nothing. Like I don’t mean anything to you.”
Julien’s face hardened again, but there was something else in her eyes now—something flickering behind the storm. She reached out, her fingers brushing Lucy’s arm. “You’re everything to me, Lucy,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m broken. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make this work when I can’t even figure myself out.”
Lucy’s heart pounded, and for a split second, everything went still. Her hand reached for Julien’s, squeezing it tight, the heat of her touch grounding them both.
“That’s why I’m here,” Lucy said quietly, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Because I don’t expect you to be perfect. I don’t need you to fix it all, Julien. I just need you to let me be here. To stop pushing me away like I’m not part of this.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with everything that had been said, everything that hadn’t. Phoebe stood off to the side, still frozen, a spectator to the storm, her eyes flicking from one to the other, unsure of how to bridge the distance between them.
Julien’s eyes softened, just for a moment, before she turned her gaze to the floor. Her voice was low, but steady. “I don’t want to lose you. But I feel like I’m... pushing you away because I don’t know how to hold on.”
The tension in the air was thick, like they were standing on the edge of something that could either break or bind them. Julien stood with their arms crossed, body tight and rigid, eyes locked on the ground, refusing to look at Lucy. On the other side of the room, Lucy's chest rose and fell with every uneven breath, her jaw clenched, her body trembling with barely contained rage.
The silence felt too loud, too full of things neither of them wanted to admit. Lucy was the first to shatter it, her voice a jagged edge. “You think I don’t feel it? You think I can’t see it, Julien?” Her words were quiet but heavy, as if they had been building up for far longer than either of them had realised. “You pull me in and push me away like I’m some fucking game to you. You can’t even decide if you want me here or not.”
Julien's eyes snapped up to hers, and for a moment, there was nothing but heat between them. Their throat tightened, and their shoulders tensed. “That’s not—” They cut themselves off, eyes flickering, looking anywhere but Lucy’s face. “That’s not what this is.”
Lucy’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “Then what the hell is it, Julien?” The words came like a slap, and they hung between them, a reminder of everything left unsaid.
The silence that followed was suffocating, an unbearable weight that pressed down on both of them. Julien’s pulse raced, their fists clenching, trying to force out the words. But the anger was tangled with something deeper, something raw. Something they didn’t know how to deal with.
Finally, the words slipped out, quieter than they meant. “When I’m with you, I can forget about myself. Forget about everything else. It just... hurts less.”
The room felt smaller after that. Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, and she took a shaky step forward, her own anger faltering in the face of Julien’s honesty. Her eyes softened, the fire burning behind them dimming. “You’re not the only one who’s hurting, you know?” she whispered, voice breaking a little. “I can’t fix you, Julien. I’m not trying to. But I can’t stand seeing you shut me out like I’m not worth fighting for.”
The weight of those words hit Julien like a wave, and for a long, agonising moment, neither of them knew how to respond. The distance between them was shrinking, but the silence was still thick, heavy with the unspoken.
Finally, Julien took a breath, their voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know how to let you in. I’m scared.”
Lucy’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Julien’s voice, and she closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around her, holding her tight. "You’re not going to lose me. But you have to stop shutting me out, okay? You’re not alone in this.”
Julien rested their forehead against Lucy’s, the tension still there, but softer now. “Okay,” they whispered, their voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to,” Lucy whispered back, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
The storm hadn’t passed yet, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they were facing it together.
The minutes dragged by in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the tour bus engine vibrating through the walls. Neither of them moved, and Lucy could feel the weight of their words still hanging in the air, thick and undeniable. Julien’s chest rose and fell against her, the tremor of their breath matching her own, as if they were both trying to steady themselves.
Julien’s hands were still shaking, just barely noticeable, but Lucy could feel the tension in the way they clung to her. They were holding on, but barely. And Lucy—Lucy was so damn tired—tired of the distance, tired of pretending it was all okay, tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Slowly, she pulled back just enough to look at Julien’s face, her thumb brushing the underside of their jaw. "Talk to me, Julien," she murmured. "Please. You’re not a fucking island. And I’m not asking for you to fix everything. I just need to know what’s going on in your head. I need to know what you’re feeling. You’re breaking down in front of me, and I can’t keep guessing at the pieces."
Julien swallowed hard, their eyes flicking away briefly, the shame evident even in the small movement. They clenched their fists before forcing themselves to loosen their grip, their eyes finally meeting Lucy’s. “I’m... I’m scared. All the time. I feel like I’m drowning in my own head and every time you reach out, it feels like I’m pulling you down with me.”
Lucy’s heart shattered at the rawness of it, the quiet desperation in their voice. “You’re not pulling me down, Julien. You never will. You don’t have to carry all this by yourself.”
There was a long pause as Julien seemed to chew over the words, the doubt still lingering. They exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m just... afraid of hurting you. Of dragging you into the same shit that I’m stuck in. You deserve better than this.”
Lucy cupped their cheek, lifting their chin just enough to meet their eyes. “I deserve you. And I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to let me in. To let me help, instead of pushing me away every time it gets hard.”
Julien’s face crumpled for a moment, like the last of their walls were finally starting to crack. They looked away again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the sharp deflection from earlier, but a quiet retreat, like they were pulling back to shield themselves from something too big to face all at once.
Lucy’s voice softened, coaxing. “I get it. I get that you’re scared. But we don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”
Julien finally nodded, slowly, their eyes still avoiding hers, but there was something in the way their shoulders sagged, a weight being released. The storm inside them wasn’t gone, not yet. But for the first time in a long time, they weren’t facing it completely alone.
And neither was Lucy.
For a long time, there was only the quiet, the sound of their breathing blending together, the air between them charged but not suffocating. The silence wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with understanding. With the beginning of healing.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Julien spoke again, their voice barely a whisper. “I’m trying, Lucy. I really am. I just... need time.”
Lucy smiled softly, the faintest trace of hope in her eyes. “We have time. We’ll figure it out. Just don’t shut me out, okay? Please.”
Julien gave a single nod, their face softening just a fraction. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t over, but maybe—just maybe—it was the start of something new.
With a deep, steadying breath, Julien leaned in, pressing their forehead gently to Lucy’s. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the storm inside them both calmed enough to give them a moment of peace.
The air between Julien and Lucy remained thick, but it was different now. Less suffocating. Julien exhaled deeply, their heart rate slowing, and Lucy’s hands, still warm on their skin, grounded them in a way nothing else had been able to. The storm inside them hadn’t passed, but the worst had already passed. For now, they just needed to breathe.
And then—
The door creaked open, and Phoebe stepped in, her expression a mixture of shock, concern, and that unmistakable wariness she’d had ever since Lucy flipped her off. She froze for a moment, eyes darting from Lucy to Julien and back again, clearly unsure of how to handle the heavy atmosphere between them.
For a long moment, no one said anything. The silence seemed to hang like a thick fog, the kind you could feel pressing against your skin, suffocating yet strangely comforting. It was clear Phoebe was still trying to process everything that had just happened.
Julien looked at her, then at Lucy, and without a word, they reached out for Phoebe’s wrist, pulling her gently into the room. Phoebe looked at them, wide-eyed, but Julien just shook their head, guiding her towards the two of them. The unspoken invitation was clear—no more walls between them, no more hiding.
With hesitation, Phoebe stepped forward, her breath still shallow from the tension she’d witnessed. And then, without any warning, Julien wrapped her into the circle. The three of them stood there, silent at first, as if trying to find their bearings after the storm they had just weathered together.
Phoebe’s body stiffened at first, her arms unsure, but as the seconds stretched on, she relaxed, her arms finding their place—first around Julien’s waist, and then around Lucy’s shoulders. It was clumsy, awkward even, but there was a sense of comfort in the closeness, the three of them huddled together in the aftermath.
Lucy’s head found its way to Phoebe’s shoulder, and for once, there was no bitterness, no underlying tension, just a kind of fragile peace, like a quiet moment in the middle of chaos. It wasn’t fixed. It wasn’t over. But in that moment, they were just... here.
Julien’s voice broke the silence, soft but certain. “We’ll figure this out. All of us.”
Lucy and Phoebe both nodded, not needing to say anything more. There was an understanding in that silence, in that simple embrace. They weren’t fixed, and maybe they never would be, but somehow, they were still here. Still together.
And in the midst of the chaos, they found peace.
For now.