Heart on the Dance Floor

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Who would have thought that just the thought of going out from her room would be so difficult?

After fourteen days of self-reclusion, Millie hasn't seen a person, neither talked, nor called anybody who didn't belong to her family (besides Finn) and this thought destabilized her.

She purposely isolated herself so that she could be forgotten by the world. But unfortunately for Millie Bobby Brown, the world is simply not ready to let her go soon.

Her fans are starting to get worried for her absence, but it wasn't the first time Millie decided to take mini-breaks from social media. She knew (or hoped) that they would understand.

Now, she has other problems to think about. For instance, what to wear that could make her look presentable.

Anxiety is devouring her as she is standing half naked in front of her wardrobe, scrabbling around and looking for something to wear. This would the party of the year so she wanted, no, she needed, to be perfect.

Even because nobody would notice the sign of her sadness by showing a perfect exterior. So, Millie will try her best to mask any little glimpse of her depression.

You see, depression is not like any over dramatic scene. It's just there, sitting next to you and holding your hand. You feel like not breathing anymore in the oxygenated world, useless, left abandoned like a piece of trash. You stop to recognize your value, and you wish someone could live your life for you; maybe this someone could get things right.

This is exactly how Millie lives without her antidepressants.

A suspire resounds around her room before she grabs a mini-dress she hasn't worn yet and studying it with an attentive gaze. A piece of clothing that Thomas, her stylist, gave her some times ago and that she never found the occasion to wear.

She throws the outfit on her mattress, and walks towards the mirror hesitantly, afraid to see her reflection after two weeks of starvation and constant crying. The sound of her heartbeat explodes in her ears once her gaze meets her image.

A pathetic figure is all she sees. No wonder why nobody likes her or all of her ex boyfriends cheated on her or preferred someone else.

No wonder why he prefers Violet.

Her eyes roam critically to every feature of her body as she passes her hands on her flat stomach, noticing that she must have lost weight again. Her waist is too slim. Her breast? Too small. Everything, from the top to the bottom, is unsatisfying.

She brushes her wet hair behind her ears, her sad face showing in the mirror.

One by one, her cheeks covers with infinite freckles and her cheeks get sharper, the color of her eyes changing, passing from a hazel brown to a deep chocolate. Finn is standing in front of his mirror too.

He is looking at himself, sighing loudly. He dips the razor into the hot water of the sink before lifting it upwards on his cheek, shaving away that bothering hint of beard and letting his baby smooth face emerge.

Only when he has finished, he rinses his chin and face. He decides to put on even that aftershave that Josh gave him— a weird but pleasing mint balm. That's it. Not any other weird perfume.

The thing is, he is not spray-on dude guy or a cologne guy, and he mostly smells like... girly deodorant, for some reason. He sweats a lot (more than he can ever admit) and his skin is delicate, so women's stuff works better on him.

After that, he walks back to his room with just a towel around his waist and looks down at the clothing he chose: a navy dotted button up, black jeans and boots. So unusual from his usual style.

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