seven years later
Millie stepped out of the train car, cello rolling behind her.
She took a deep breath of city air and then continued out of the station and down the busy sidewalk.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it Sads," She whined into the phone held up to her ear, "I won't forget about you, even though you're literally coming down next weekend to help me set up my interview with Dacia Clay."
"Just making sure, Millie. Oh, did you get the muffin basket from the gang yet? We sent it like two days ago so..." The redhead rambled on the other line.
"Yeah! It was waiting very patiently on my doorstep when I got home on Tuesday. Speaking of the mail, I have to pass by the mailman whenever I leave in the morning and that woman is fucking crazy. Like, rude as hell and watches my every move! I feel like I don't collect my mail correctly whenever she's there,"
Sadie sighed. "That's why you should've stayed in North Carolina rather than going to lame old Philadelphia. There are no psycho mail ladies! And all of your friends are here,"
Millie could almost see her smirk through the phone. "Well, I'll call you later, Sadie. I'll tell you how my shoot for Strings goes tomorrow," she smiled to herself and made a kissing noise into the cellphone "Love you too, g'bye."
The girl sighed contently as she slid her phone into her coat pocket and adjusted her scarf closer to her mouth. The east coast winter was bitter and unforgiving, something that she had always been accustomed to until now, where she suddenly felt like she had never experienced it before. Her heels made a faint clicking sound on the sidewalk as she rounded the corner near her apartment and she dodged a woman (that was presumably drunk) trying to sell her bagged sandwiches.
It took a long time for her to adjust to living somewhere so urban, but once she understood the rules of the road, everything else fell into place. She knew where the best underground pizza shops were and how to get from Barnes & Noble to that one cute coffee shop off of Montrose and then to her job at Eastman in less than twenty minutes (minus however long it took her inside of the stores). Millie developed a good system and stuck to it nearly every day that she could unless she had extra time to stop at Le Pain Quotidien and Anthropologie before heading home to teach whichever student fell on a Wednesday that week.
She hadn't had much time to cultivate a long list of friends, however, so her calls with Sadie every other day gave her a sense of order and peace that she couldn't quite find anywhere else. They weren't typically long conversations but they were enough to unload all of the rants she had about coworkers and ignorant students in the school. Lately, there wasn't as much to tell because the workspace had become more bearable the longer she taught there, but it was still nice to actually speak to someone who she had known for longer than a couple months.
Millie unlocked her front door quickly and hoisted her cello up the stairs in front of her small townhome. The rent was expensive even though it was a fairly small place and she took pride in the fact that she could muster up the money to pay for it every month with her teaching job. Private lessons added an extra hundred dollars to her salary nearly twelve times each week, which helped, but it was still a grand feat to be able to be financially comfortable in a city with such little experience living in one.
One of the only things that Sadie ever really encouraged Millie to do during their calls was to get out more. She rolled her eyes everytime the other mentioned it, obviously, but for once Millie was actually going to try and go for it. She had decided on making plans with one of her colleagues and only friends that she had made in the bustling city.
Millie slid off her heels and shoved a pair of worn-out converse over a pair of socks that she had pulled out from inside of her dresser. Wearing the sneakers was the closest feeling Millie could achieve to being barefoot, so she basked in the comfort as she gave herself a once-over in the mirror attached to her door. It was a simple outfit; mom jeans and a pink sweater, but it was cute and warm and acceptable for a quick visit to the local bar.
Her hand reached into the makeup bag on her desk and she smeared a new layer of gloss over her lips before slinging her purse over her shoulder and starting out the door again.
***
Millie approached the person she had planned on meeting up with, a tall woman who taught English lit at Eastman and always had some sort of story to tell. She was currently rattling off to the man behind the bar about some insane asylum she had escaped and later gotten shut down. It was a wild plot that was in no way true to life, somehow resulting in her bulldozing the hospital and creating a taco stand in its place.
The bartender seemed strangely enthralled in the lies she was telling him, proving just how believable she was able to make the stories seem.
"Rowan, if that's your flirting tactic, you need to find a new one," Millie said, startling the couple. The redhead whipped around and smiled widely, her eyes bright and full of whatever entertainment she gained from fooling gullible people.
"Don't hate whatchu can't have, sweetcheeks," Rowan countered while still grinning, "It's just in my nature to be charming as fuck." Millie rolled her eyes and pulled the taller girl into her embrace.
"I'm sure," She groaned, taking a seat next to her and ordering a Shirley Temple. "Don't mind her, she's an English major,"
The man nodded and chuckled slightly, pretending to understand the joke, then quickly set to work on her drink.
"Seriously? No alcohol, even after the principal sat in during our classes today?" Rowan gasped dramatically. She swung back her glass, swallowing the liquid easily. Millie always admired how tough she was, wearing heavy combat boots and band shirts almost daily to work. They got along easily even though Millie was positive that Rowan was twenty times cooler and more interesting than she could ever be.
"I have important things to do tomorrow, unlike some people, Miss Romina," Millie retorted. Rowan gestured to the bartender to grab her another drink before returning her focus back onto the short-haired girl.
"Is Strings tomorrow already?" She asked, her face softer than it was before.
That was another one of Rowan's talents; she could go from rambling about beef stroganoff to supporting someone with the loss of a pet in the blink of an eye. Rowan's sense of humanity, as well as her humor, was really what brought Millie to her. It had also aided in keeping their bond nearly as strong as her friends back at home in only a month.
Their friendship reminded her a lot of one of her first boyfriends, who she had had a similar experience with. Sometimes relationships just work, no strings attached.
Millie was glad that her first serious relationship with a male had been with someone like Finn. It was easy and they were practically just best friends who made out from time to time. She still wondered what had ever happened to him after they broke things off that one August afternoon five years ago. She hoped that he had still kept his looks and that he hadn't fallen back into the trap of being a jerk like he had throughout high school.
Maybe he still thinks about my lessons, Millie wondered. It was doubtful, but a girl can dream.
***
"Finn! If I have to tell you one more goddamn time to pick up your dirty clothes I will literally fucking kill you,"
Finn groaned, flipping over in his bed and pushing the pillow further over his ear. The person's voice was muffled through the wall, but it was obviously his roommate's, and Finn didn't exactly feel like dealing with him at such an early hour.
This was their weekly routine; Finn would do something that annoyed Luke, Luke would yell, so on and so forth. It almost always ended with Finn forgetting about said annoyance and going back to sleep.
The yelling had already begun as Luke kicked around Finn's belongings that were thrown about the cramped apartment, so next started the knocking on his door.
"Finn Wolfhard, I swear to God, I will bust this fucking door down," he shouted through the wood while banging furiously on the surface. Finn remembered that he kept his door locked for a reason in the morning, smirking as the other boy struggled to get in.
"Shut the hell up, Luke, some of us are trying to sleep here," the raven-haired boy snarked back at him. There was a sound of footsteps outside of the room, followed by a quiet grumble from Luke's mouth. Finn rolled his eyes and curdled toward the wall more, deciding that this was the moment that he stopped caring at all about what Luke decided to do.
The grumble sounded again, this time louder, and accompanied by a loud war cry. Soon enough, a cracking noise appeared and the door was on the floor of the room. Luke stood expectantly in the doorframe, pushing pieces of broken wood out of his way with his feet. He threw a pile of Finn's clothing onto his bed, aiming for his face, muttering quietly under his breath.
Finn blinked. This had never happened before, and if he was honest, he was slightly scared now.
"I ask very few things of you, fucker. I promise that I can take my name off of the rent papers faster than you can say 'Finn Wolfhard is an asshat,' and we both know that you can't pay for this shit on your own,"
Lucas wasn't wrong, Finn was further in the hole than anyone had anticipated and he was barely scrapping it as it was.
It had all begun to turn south when he entered his freshman year of college. He had already experienced CalArts, so he assumed that it would be a breeze. The people would be great, the finances wouldn't be difficult to handle, he would figure it out. Right?
Wrong.
The moment that he walked into his first 8 AM class after the summer break, a half hour late and after spending a night with one of his cousin's (because Luke wasn't going to be home and was afraid of leaving Finn alone), he knew that he wouldn't be able to handle it. His professor, a lanky woman with hair so blonde it looked white, was bubbly and emphasized the importance of having self-motivation.
Fuck self-motivation, Finn had thought. Fuck college and fuck anyone who thinks that this world isn't going to kick their ass.
So, now he resided in a less-than-great apartment in the suburbs of Orange County; a pudgy roommate and all.
He hadn't been a complete failure, though. One of his professors, Mr. Junahe (though he insisted that you called him Harold), had noticed his struggles and taken him under his wing. He offered Finn a place to rant without feeling judgment, plus an epic internship that he couldn't possibly turn down.
"Oh, shit!" Finn yelped, jolting out of his dreamy state. He had a flight to Philadelphia for a shoot in less than two hours, and he had completely forgotten. Frazzled, he shoved a couple shirts and pairs of jeans into his overnight bag and ran a bit of water through his hair. He glanced at himself in the mirror, getting a quick flashback from the time that he biked a certain girl to school at an inconvenient time. It made his ears ring painfully, and he hit at his temples with both hands, trying to get it to go away. Luckily, it did, and he stuffed his toothbrush and some socks in his bag before running out the door.
***
"Okay, a bit more cheek for me, Millie," the photographer yelled out at her. She couldn't believe that this was actually happening, she was doing a cover shoot for Strings fucking Magazine. Her cello was placed gently between her legs, her bow resting against the willow sides. It was a beautiful instrument, one that she was gifted by her father after she completed her third year of college as a music education major. The sound was warm and ringing, and she vividly remembered testing it in her cello shop at home when she was a senior in high school.
It helped, having something that was such a part of her life be connected to home. It eased the ache in her heart whenever she missed North Carolina too much and playing it would relieve her of any stresses she had during the day. The photographer yelled at her to tilt her chin up further, so she did, a slight smile painting her face.
It was a decently quiet room, as Millie had requested little to no music in the background, and the wall behind her was exposed brick. Large windows lined the walls and she could only hope that her future home would resemble this one.
Suddenly, a large clatter interrupted the peace in the room. A man rushed in, looking disheveled, and quickly began speaking to an equipment helper. He was oddly familiar from the back, his hair dark and curly and making her stomach twirl in a way that wasn't unwelcome. She laughed to herself quietly-the photographer calling words of praise to her as she did so. It was so unlikely that Finn would actually be here, in the flesh, at her shoot. The thought of it made her feel like a teenager again, though, and she didn't mind it.
Millie watched the man as he moved, trying her hardest to focus on some of the most important pictures of her life. Her eyes nearly fell out of her skull, though, when he turned around to work on repositioning a light.
The man was, in fact, Finn. In the flesh, here, at her shoot. He was just as beautiful as she remembered, all cheekbones and dark stares thrown around the room. There was something undeniably different about him, though, but she couldn't seem to put her finger on it.
"Millie, Millie, eyes to me, sweetheart," the photographer cooed, snapping a couple photos as she turned back to face the lens. At that moment, Finn seemed to realize just who was sitting in the chair in front of him.
His face flashed a similar expression to Millie's, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips seemingly conflicted on whether they should frown deeper or curl into a smile. He decided on the latter, a grin consuming his face and a knowing look buried in his eyes. She nodded slightly, trying not to cause too much of a disruption, and they made a silent agreement to meet up later and talk. Well, at least Millie hoped that's what he got from her look. She wasn't sure how well he could read her mind anymore.
***
Finn could read her mind incredibly well, apparently, because only a couple of minutes after she had settled herself at the bar down the street with a short glass of Sazerac, Millie saw him stroll into the room. He had to duck a bit to get under the short doorframe, which made her laugh out loud. It was enough to catch his attention, their eyes quickly locking from across the room and not falling away from one another as he approached her.
"Rum, please," he says to the bartender. His voice is deeper than she remembered, and it hits her harder than the alcohol filling her stomach. A lot has changed about him, actually, and she can actually drink in the details now that they have more time. His face has become impossibly darker, chiseled and sanded to perfection. The awkward parts of him seemed to have smoothed out now, and they work together to build one, coherent sculpture. A new pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. They tug at her heart, reminding her of all the times he had complained about his eyesight when they were together.
Their relationship felt as if it had occurred eternities ago, even though it had only been a few years. She felt little pieces of him begin to slip away from her through those months apart, though, and it was to the point that it might as well have been a decade or two.
The one thing that hadn't changed about Finn (which Millie was glad about) was his hair. It was black and unruly and reflected bits of orange and red in the warm bar lights. She wanted to reach up and feel it again, but restrained herself, because they weren't anything more than ex-lovers at this point. The title hurt to think about, but it was the truth. Nothing more had developed, not even a friendship. They had stopped speaking entirely when Finn left for California.
He clears his throat next to her. It only startles her slightly, because she's been watching him with such a close eye.
"Quite a strong drink you've got there, Millie,"
He doesn't call her peach but it's all she hears when he starts to talk. She swishes the alcohol around in her cup, wishing that it was even stronger than it was.
"Well, I need something to match today's events," she bites back. It's not her intention to sound angry or annoyed, it just kind of happens. She has no reason to be mad, anyway, because it was all her idea. And it was better this way. They needed to be apart.
Finn grunts, "I couldn't agree more," he sits down on the barstool next to hers and takes a swig of his drink. "What've you been up to?"
Millie cringes. Small talk was her least favorite part of running into old friends. She didn't know why she even hoped that they would skip that tonight. This wasn't an exception.
"Oh, you know, just the usual stuff," she brushes it off and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Millie feels his stare burn into her cheek, watching her every move carefully.
He scoffs at her response, takes another swig, "Right, yeah, because being on the cover of fucking Strings Magazine and having lunch with some of this generation's greatest musicians is everyday shit,"
Millie shrugs. She doesn't want to sound like a prissy brat, but it kind of is her "everyday shit."
"Once I got out of school, I hightailed it back home and then got a call from my aunt that she thought she could get me a date set up with a record label; It's not my fault that the album blew up in my face," she reasoned. It was bullshit, all of it, and she knew that, but she wanted to seem as if she actually had her life somewhat together. It wasn't a sudden explosion if exposure in her face. It was more of a gradual spread of the smoke, covering more and more of her life until it was entirely masked and the only parts of herself she could still make out were labeled music and miscellaneous.
"I dropped out of school," Finn says nonchalantly. Millie nearly spits out the drink that she just swallowed. Her eyes grow wide, and she turns to face him completely.
"What the fuck?"
Finn scoffs again, beckons the bartender over, and orders another round for the pair. "Don't act so surprised, we both saw it coming."
Millie gasps, offended, "I most certainly did not see this coming, I thought you were content with your life? What happened?"
Finn brushes it off again, waving his hand at her dismissively and gratefully accepting his glass from the bartender's grip. "Lost motivation, hated my life, dropped out. It's a fairly simple process,"
Millie can't imagine Finn ever losing so much of himself that he would just quit. That was not the person she loved. Well, the person she had loved. Past tense.
He was always gushing about his photography and his plans for the future, especially after their trip to visit CalArts. She prayed to whatever god that was listening that she hadn't been a cause in his sudden lack of emotion. There was a voice in her head that kept her prayers from being answered, though.
"It really fucked me up, ya know?" Finn says through gritted teeth. She can only assume what he means. "I thought it would be okay- and it was, for like... a month, but then it just went downhill.
Started smoking more again, hanging out with bad people. Doing bad stuff... Didn't know where else to go," he hisses as the rum burns his throat but soldiers through it, "Thought going to school would help me, but forgot that everyone at school seems so happy in the beginning. I couldn't stand to be around all of the smiling faces- drove myself insane, basically. I don't even know how I'm still here, but I guess I have Harold to thank,"-Millie has no idea who Harold is but she silently praises him-"And now, here I am, sitting next to the one person I swore I would never see again, and I wouldn't want it any other way," Finn finishes his rant by pouring the rest of his glass into his mouth, down his throat.
A drop catches outside of his lip and Millie watches as his tongue darts out and catches it. She sees stubble along his jaw and imagines what it would feel like to kiss.
"See many people in that time?" Millie asks. She knows she's probably overstepping, but she can't help herself.
Finn smirks, shrugging. "A few people here and there, nothing ever like..." he drops off there, leaving the unspoken us drift between them and then shatter against the bartop.
"Same here," Millie breathes out. In truth, she hasn't seen anyone, other than a couple casual hookups to hold her over. It was hard to date after having someone as perfect as Finn be your first boyfriend. Impossible, even, but she promised herself daily that she would go out and meet someone. Rowan was even forcing her to go to socials at work so she could "get some mans."
The bar is getting louder as the night bores on, more and more people filling the empty spaces. It's not exactly a comfortable place to have private talks about your past to your ex, so Finn leads Millie onto the street and into a small park nearby.
"How do you know about this place?" she asks. It's beautiful, small, and has a giant mural of a young girl lining its walls. She can't believe that she had never seen this little nook, especially after days of exploring the city.
"I spent a month down here a while back, for an internship, took a wrong turn at some point heading back to the headquarters, and I ended up here," he explains.
***
There are fairy lights along the fencing and they reflect onto Finn's face as he talks, almost like a halo that had been smeared. Millie doesn't think that she could ever get bored of looking at him like this, so angelic and quiet. Millie doesn't think that there is a single version of Finn that she wouldn't enjoy staring at for a long period of time, and that's when it hits her.
They've been chatting for nearly two hours outside of the time they spent in the bar, and she would let him drone on for twelve more, except she has work on Monday and if she messes up her sleep schedule now, she'll never get it back in time.
So Millie wastes no time in doing what her heart had been yelling at her to do since she first saw him during the shoot. She does what her mind was screaming not to do because fuck it, right? There's no time like the present, and she probably won't see him again in years, so why the hell shouldn't she?
This is the bravest she's been in months, yet she still has no clue what the fuck she's doing as she is leaning in closer to Finn's face and cutting him off mid-sentence, pressing their lips together.
He catches her bottom lip between both of his and sucks, eliciting a soft whine from the back of Millie's throat. It's embarrassing, albeit slightly hot, and it's clear that the man she is now straddling has had some practice. As their lips connect again and again, messily but with passion, she realizes even more that this is not the same teenager that she had fallen in love with. No, this was a man, a full-fledged adult who was going to absolutely ruin her if she didn't stop now.
But, she noticed, being drawn back in by his touch and his lips on her neck, that she didn't want to stop. She was on mother fucking fire, and there was no reason why she shouldn't keep going.
Except for the fact that they weren't seventeen and in love anymore, and that they both had separate lives and jobs to attend to. She wasn't teaching him how to be happy, he wasn't some heathen that needed to be fixed. They were perfectly okay without each other. Her brain was screaming at her to stop, to let their lives continue without any more nonsense- to let herself detach. But she refused. Millie pushed all of the loud thoughts in her mind away, instead focusing all of her energy into kissing the person she felt herself being pushed towards by her heart.
All that mattered was right now, this moment, in his arms. She might not have been his peach anymore, but there was something to be said about lost time, and Millie wasn't going to lose anymore.
Pulling him in for another searing kiss, Millie whispered, "Lesson number twenty," she pauses for both dramatic effect and to kiss Finn again, "a jumble of words being called a lesson won't teach you happiness, but you might learn it anyways,"
THE END.
***
author's note:
wow.
4457 words of this chapter later, i have finished this story, and with it, a chapter of my life.
i'll have a sappy part up later where i vent about how much you all mean to me because i don't want to waste any more of your time, but just know that i love you all so fucking much.
thank you for sticking by me through this ride.
i couldn't have asked for better readers to share my words with.
it feels weird asking you guys to vote and comment feedback on this one, but it really does help, so i would appreciate it if you did both of those things :)
thank you all so much!
-paige