Locked in the Universe

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Happiness. What a foreign word.

If you told Finn Wolfhard that one day he would feel truly content without using drugs, he would have laughed at your face.

But now, without any warning or the possibility to fight against it, that same happiness has sneaked in his very soul, as if all of his problems have suddenly  drained out of him. The reason? It has a name, the sweetest you could utter.

Millie. That name that for years he refused to let out or to think of; the sound that only caused him pain is now the only word he needs to breathe.

What has started as a flicker of love now has become a fire that is wrecking down any poisoned doubt and the walls of hatred he had built over the years. He is, unashamedly, falling into a new and long forgotten feeling he doesn't dare to say out loud yet.

He smiles at his empty apartment, his stomach grumbling for the starvation but there is no need of eating as, finally, his heart is full.

After replying a couple of texts to Millie saying he has arrived home, he grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge, and walks to his terrace.

The first thing he does is sitting in his favorite spot, far away from the indiscreet eyes of his neighbors. It's ten, and it's too early for seeing the stars, but that doesn't stop him from staring at the universe and his wonders.

Finn grabs the neck of the bottle and grunge it to his lips, sipping it slowly, letting the flavor fill his mouth. He has an only focus now and that is how to make Millie happy for their date next Saturday.

It's a given that they will recognized; he needs to be careful and choose the best place, something not too mainstream but that could leave an impact, a memory nobody could ever erase.

So he begins to list all the things they could do together.

Let's start from the basics. Mini golf and ice cream? Super fun, but not first date material.

Cinema date? He would love that, but Millie enjoyed chatting and she was one of those people who never shut their mouths and commented on every single scene.

And he wanted to talk with ther, anyway. They had a lot to say.

Perhaps, something easy like dinner and a nice stroll around the city would work. It is a nice idea, sure, but way too basic. They could do that for the third date?

"This is so fucking complicated." He groans, gulping down the alcohol as if it could give him all the answers he sought for.

He could go for some classic stuff, like inviting her over and have a pizza or whatever. Yes, he could. But then, what? His stupid flat of three rooms was not an amusement park with a bunch of activities to offer.

Also, he would have given a bad impression inviting her there, like he was looking for something else.

"Think, Wolfhard," He sips the beer again, the bottle already half empty, staring at the darkness above. "Think for once in your stupid life."

But the more he thinks, the less he comes to a conclusion.

As his last resort, he sticks out his phone and opens Google, looking for some date prompts. What an uncreative mother fucker he is.

It's so easy coming up with a new script or a new song but how is it possible that when it comes to a date his brain empties?

Call it for what it is: male stupidity.

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