RECORDS ◈ FINN WOLFHARD

7 | Unruly Roommates

Y/N

_

I DON'T THINK I've ever slept that well.

As my eyes fluttered open, I ran my hand against the soft fabric of the living room couch. I didn't know whether it was the homey feel of the place, or the softness of the blanket, but I slept better than I had in months.

Maybe it was because I didn't have to worry about waking up to absolute chaos. 

Rubbing the back of my neck, I rolled onto my feet, my mouth stretching out into a yawn. My hair was piled on top of my head messily, but not attractively. One giant, frizzy, knot was what it looked like.

Since no one else seemed to be awake, I decided it was best to use the bathroom and get out before the crowd came. Snatching my toothbrush and toothpaste out of my bag, I tiptoed up the stairs with haste, hoping I didn't wake anyone up.

Once I made my way into the cream-colored bathroom, I turned on the sink and ran the bristles of my brush underneath. Lathering on some paste, I began to scrub away the bacteria in my mouth, while occasionally glancing at my unpleasant reflection in the mirror. Dang it, I left my brush in my suitcase.

As I bent down to spit in the sink, a tiny green object caught my attention. It was tucked behind the soap bottles, foggy with the hot air. It looked like a guitar pick. Setting down my toothbrush, I reached out my hand to pick it up, but was cut off by a sudden noise.

And a sudden door in my face.

Whoever was walking into the bathroom must have not heard me, because they swung open the door in my face, knocking me over into the wall. It hurt.

"My bad!" A familiar voice winced, their blurry figure in front of me, "I forgot I had new roommates now!"

It was Finn, who's hair looked just as tangled as mine. He looked horrified when he saw who he hit in the face, but I smiled at him groggily in reassurance.

"You're good," I said, waving my hand, "just caught me off guard."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Finn," I laughed, wobbling back onto my feet, "it's fine."

"I have Neosporin!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not what you think it's for, but no thank you."

Brushing past him, I began to walk back into the hallway, but stopped myself. I had a question I nearly had forgotten about.

Turning around, I leaned my hip against the doorway, "you never told me you knew how to play guitar."

Finn was in the middle of pulling out his toothbrush when I asked, and he shoved it in his mouth quickly. There wasn't even toothpaste on it.

"Hey!" I gasped, "why won't you answer the question?"

"I'm brushing my teeth," he grinned, still continuing to mess around.

"Liar!"

"Can't you see the toothbrush in my mouth?"

"It's not even wet!" I pointed out, my mouth open in playful offense.

Finn smiled, rolling his eyes, and setting the utensil down and onto the sink. Just by talking to him, I felt all my morning crabbiness disappear down the drain. I was already in a better mood than before.

"So why didn't you tell me?" I said softly, the excitement settling down.

Finn shrugged, "you never asked."

"Can I ask you to play me a song?"

"Hell no."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm just a kid from Vancouver, who learned how to play the guitar for fun," he sighed, "and you're an international indie-legend, who just so happens to be insanely good at the guitar."

"Why does any of that matter?"

"Because I'm embarrassed? I don't want you to pity me when you hear me play."

"I'm sure you're amazing at it."

"You see that?" he smiled, sticking his pointer finger at me, "you're pitying me right now!"

"No, I'm not!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, you are!"

"Finn," I strained, clasping my hands together in desperation, "let me tell you something I learned."

He raised an eyebrow, one of his curls grazing lazily over his eyes. I had to resist the urge to brush it out of his face.

"Music is still music," I said, "it doesn't matter how well anyone plays it."

Finn seemed to take my words to mind, glancing at his reflection in the mirror with a newfound interest. I wasn't pitying him at all. I really believed he was good at guitar! And I desperately wanted to hear him play... I bet it sounds beautiful.

"I've got a shift in half-an-hour," the boy said, changing the subject, "want to come with me?"

I wrinkled my nose, "isn't the storm still out there?"

"My boss doesn't care about the weather."

"I don't know... I don't want to be a nuisance."

"You're the last thing from that, I promise," Finn grinned, "in fact, you're probably the best thing to ever happen to Rinks."

Rolling my eyes, I tried to cover up my blushing face, "now you're the one pitying me!"

"Nope," he beamed, "so are you coming?"

"Sure," I said, nodding my head, "I'd love to go."

Turning on my heels, I began to retreat towards the stair, an obvious smile on my face. I wasn't sure which part I was smiling about, but that didn't matter. Maybe I was smiling at everything. Maybe I was smiling at nothing.

Or maybe I was smiling because of Finn.