mel·an·choly
/ˈmɛl.ənˌkɑl.i/
great sadness or depression, especially of a thoughtful or introspective nature
'Do you believe in soulmates?'
The question was quite simple. Because, let's be honest, you either believe it or you don't, and, well... Believing in fairy tales and happy ever afters just wasn't in Finn's nature. He tried to be rational and reasonable, always cautious, always keeping his guard up, not letting himself to get hurt, never getting his hopes up. God only knows how many regrets and disappointments he had avoided thanks to that kind of thinking.
For him, the idea of soulmates seemed unrealistic. It just felt... too easy. Too perfect. Because love is all about trust. Trying. Caring. Working on the relationship together. Making compromises. Setting boundaries.
It's a commitment.
'Soulmates? Like one perfect person out there for everyone? And they're destined to end up together?'
'Yeah... Do you believe in it?'
A simple, short answer was right on the tip of his tongue, a word "no" almost leaving his lips...
His thoughts wandered into an undefined direction, his mind flooding with memories. Was a "no" the right answer here, though? How could he respond that way when his girlfriend was also his best friend?
Not many people were this lucky, that one was certain.
'Well, the idea is kinda miserable, don't you think? What if you never meet-'
'You're thinking too much.' Millie shifted in his arms, her head turning just barely so she could look up at him, a frown creasing her forehead. 'It's simple, you either-'
Her next words drowned in the sweet sound of her giggles when he pinched her hip, his fingers dancing along the smooth skin of her waist, soft tickles eliticing a laugh from her. The sound he wanted to hear every day, till the end of time.
His favorite thing in the world.
It was perfect, much better than he could've imagined. A hotel room, dim lights, crumpled sheets, her naked back against his chest, his hand resting on her stomach, her fingers lacing with his own.
Her warmth, her scent, her laugh, her smile, her eyes.
Her body and soul, her mind and heart. Her love.
Her.
There was no other person in this world who could make him feel so wanted, so complete, so... loved. Millie was the only one able to silence the doubts he had in his heart.
The only one who could teach him how to love.
How could he not believe in soulmates at that very moment?
Carefully, so delicately, as if she was a porcelain doll, he brushed her hair off her neck, his fingertips caressing her skin in the most loving way. Leaning down, he pressed a few soft, tiny kisses to her bare shoulder before replying, his voice lighter than a whisper.
'Yeah. Yeah, I do.'
___
based on "my dear melancholy," by the weeknd
millie bobby brown (24)
finn wolfhard (25)
tw; this story contains mature themes:
mentions of sex, alcohol, drug use, strong language, toxic relationships
A/N
hello children, welcome to my new short story
I'm not sure about this so enjoy it before I unpublish lmao Anyways, tell me what you think?
love,
ane
