Beauty and the Beast | Fillie

Storm

➵

"I fucking hate him! I hate him!" she screamed once she got back in her room, and kicking her bed (hurting her foot).

Fortunately for her, her lectures were over and she was already on her Christmas break. She always got the highest marks, and she felt proud of herself for being passionate about what she was studying even though a nasty, pathetic, piece of shit - in her words - was paying for her education.

Millie quickly started to undress, feeling the urge, the need to shower herself, because she always did it when she needed to relax; she was tired, covered with sweats because of all the chores she had done just some minutes before, and because she had to shower off the nasty feeling of him touching her skin, the words he spat on her with rage back in his bedroom.

The way he looked at her! Just because she was doing the right thing, just because she said she didn't want to - even if she wanted to, because she didn't want to be or feel like the "other one", if she could consider herself as "the other one".

And, most of all, she wanted to protect him.
But all she got in return was him hurting her, as she expected.

They weren't dating. They weren't in love - maybe. They weren't anything of that; so why seeing him with another woman made her feel so mad? With that splendid and beautiful woman...

Mille sighed while entering the shower; she shampooed her hair, while the scent of vanilla was surrounding her and the stream of hot water which was slipping delicately on her skin made her feel immediately reborn. And when she finally got out, wrapping herself in her white robe, she didn't expect to find Finn Wolfhard sitting on her mattress, with a pathetic expression.

"Jesus, stop appearing in my room like a ghost!" she let out with exasperation, putting a hand on her heart because of that unexpected visit.

"Get out of my bedroom, right now."

And Millie didn't even want to look at him. She really was pissed, hurt, objectified — basically, all the usual things Finn did to her on regular basis.

The curly boy kept staring at her, biting his lips, slowly observing and contemplating her little body, and breathing her sweet scent of vanilla. She was a vision: short hair, all wet; Millie, completely bare under that towel; just perfect.

"I'm sorry." he finally said with a sad smirk.

But Millie just snorted, rolling her eyes. "I don't care."

"I... fucked up." he sighed.

"Listen, I don't really want to hear your fucking excuses. You are an asshole. Yeah, a freaking moody asshole! I just wanted to protect you for being in the wrong. I just wanted you to be loyal with your girlfriend who, oh I'm not afraid to tell you, is the dumbest and insensitive bitch I have ever seen!" she screamed, hitting him again with a towel near her.

"Ouch! You are so violent!" he screamed with an high pitched voice; he just wanted to make her laugh... but that time it didn't work.

Millie was seriously angry.

She started to rummage in her drawer, grabbing some of her clothes, and staring at him deadly. Usually, she would have told him to not look at her in those conditions, because she was basically naked — but the anger she felt was the only thing that she cared about in that moment.