The night evaporates fast and the only thing that lasts is the remnant of a secret kiss that will never see the light.
Upon waking, Millie burrows herself into the warm, soft duvet, snuggling her cheek against what she thought it was a pillow, but that in reality, it was no one else but the guy she loves.
Finn is still sleeping next to her, with an arm draped around her waist and his legs being an only thing with hers, intertwined like a thin inseparable thread. She couldn't get best waking up than this.
Exhaling a satisfied breath, Millie hides a content smile, nuzzling her face against his warm chest even more, like a puppy dog ready to cuddle you once you get home.
It was a sensation that never, ever thought she would experiment again. The feeling of being finally home.
While hugging and keeping him close to her, Millie understands that Finn is her only comfort zone and, at the same time, the most dangerous one. He is that ambiguous boundary that she can't explain for as much as she tries.
But she won't bother to overthink about it, not now when Finn is right next to her, making her feel like she is the only one for a minute or so.
And then, after a solid second frozen in time, it strikes her. The thing she did while he was laying unconscious next to her...
Millie's mind collects the pieces of the night before, recreating all that happened. The memory is vivid in her head, so much that she can feel her skin itching: her lips touched his ones in that silly and childish kiss that she couldn't fight against.
That kiss that was her only way to admit her shameless love for him despite of everything, his attitude, his broken heart, his way of being, or despite the fact that they are not meant to be each other's and never will be.
Millie knows she should be ashamed of her actions, but how to contain that stupid lovestruck beam of sun that is sparkling on her face every time she glimpses at his face?
She smiles against his chest, overwhelmed by his physical presence and cozy body.
God, Finn is handsome when he sleeps. Even more when he is pressed against her, sharing her same air and personal space.
Millie gazes at him from time to time, enjoying the quietness of the early morning and the intimate atmosphere made by those soft shades of orange trickling in through the curtains.
But this is just the calm before the storm. Millie is aware that the whole thing won't be easy to explain and that he will be out of his mind when he will understand what he did or why he ended up in here, in her bed (more like in her arms).
It is an unavailable fight.
In fact, it doesn't take long before Finn kicks out the first groans and he brings a hand to his face, probably trying to relieve his post-hangover headache.
His nerves are tensed and the ache stings all of the right side of his head, from the eye to the back of his neck. Fuck. The walls of his mouth are dry, they taste like cheap vodka, and saliva.
But on his lips... there is another type of taste that it's completely dissonant from the harsh ones stuck on his tongue.
He taps his fingers on the lips, rubbing them together and letting the familiar and intoxicating flavor soaking his skin. It's sweet and smells like love. If he could have sex with a flavor, he'd choose that one.
Then, he rubs his hands on his eyes, eyelids blinking as his whole body reacts to the circumstances around him. One of the clearest evidences is that he is not alone.
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Starlight | FillieFanfiction
Two years have passed since the final season of Stranger Things. Millie is still the most loved celebrity in the whole world; so young and full of energy, love, and passion, but with a terrible shadow hunting her. Finn is praised and adored by ever...