➵
Millie can't explain the sensation of stepping a foot on the American soil again.
Her private jet took her home, in Atlanta, where an empty apartment was waiting for her. God, she already misses London, her pond, her garden, the comfort of her cottage and the distance. Yes, those infinite thousand of miles that took her apart from her problems.
Her face is pale, upset by the jet leg; the vitality and energy drain out of her legs as she takes the elevator that connects her to the complex of apartments in the very center of the town— God, so many people were at Ponce City Market that evening.
She just wishes they had the decency to leave her alone. At least for one day. She seriously can't deal with the fans.
Her body guard guides her through the crowd, while her head is covered by her black hoodie and a pair of sunglasses.
"We are here, Miss Brown. For anything, you can call me." The man reassures her, and she smiles in gratitude they reach the door.
"Thank you, Oliver." She replies softly. "Have a good night."
A twist of keys and there it is, the usual messy loft. Seems like the chaos followed her: no matter when Millie went, she always left the traces of her presence behind. Physically ... and figuratively.
She drops her expensive Louis Vuitton trolley and immediately snaps the curtains of the steel-framed window open, letting the dull grey sky be the only company she needs. There isn't the sun today; demoralizing to say the least.
Her mood is dangling back and forth like a pendulum because of that phone call. Because Finn Wolfhard, yes, that asshole, ruined her birthday and all of her good intentions.
And her love story with Louis? Over. She didn't even know what she would have done from this point on.
She just feels nonexistent, and numb. It is the right time to take her pills.
It's when she travel to the bathroom, right when she is standing in front of the medicine cabinet that Millie feels a presence. It's a cold shiver running down her spine; a shadow of a hand grazing the back of her neck. It's anxiety, blood pumping on the veins, and more.
She shakes her head, opening the sink and washing her face with some cold water and, then, she shakes the pills container with her fingers and she gulp them down her throat, trying to not think about it anymore.
Her therapy consisted in one dose of Lexapro in the morning and one in the night— just to cure her depression symptoms.
Recently, the number of pills has doubled, and she is not proud of it. At all. But the medias were ruining her; Finn's love obsessing her; the lack of real friendships was still a heavy burden she carried on her shoulders; and finally, there was the need to die, in a little corner of her heart.
She thought about it, plenty of times. Dying. Would life be better if she died? Would people miss her and remembered her? Was she worth to such gift as living? Millie is still looking for an answer.
She wanders around the floor, sleepy eyes catching the ambient: there are shoes on the table; packs of branded clothes coming directly from the most expensive boutiques; branch of flowers from some sponsors in and there. But then something stands out: the only thing that is not related to job in any way.
It's Finn's bomber jacket. It's still there, on her sofa, since the day she used it to repair herself from the cold.
There memories of Six Flags day brings her back to the fire of her fingers touching his chest, all of the emotions he let out; his gaze eating her alive; every fiber of his cells despising her for what she did to him.
She holds the fabric with both hands and she hates to notice that it still has his scent. She is not petty enough to destroy it or simply throw it into the trash. She has to return that piece of him eventually— someday, whenever she feels to.
But now, Millie doesn't want to think about him. The anger she feels for the last phone call is still stuck on her and no matter how she tries to rub it off of her: it doesn't work.
"I hate you." She throws that stupid piece of clothing far away from her, where she is sure her attention won't catch it again.
Millie's only desire is forgetting Finn and she swears to God: she will. This whatever feeling she is developing for him will go away, it was the last thing she did.
After preparing herself a whipped iced coffee and switching into some more comfortable clothes (a shaggy white hoodie and pajama pants), she sits cross-crossed on the green velvet sofa and grabs her phone.
As always, it is filled with emails, but the one of her manager Melanie stands out and she can't ignore it.
Sander: melaniegreen@gmail.com
Object: Comic Con LA 3 March.
Hello, Millie!
Hope your trip to London was fine, darling.
We have scheduled a comic con in a couple of weeks in Los Angeles for creation entertainment.
It was set up last minute. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to participate. You would host a panel with Finn Wolfhard. He has already confirmed his presence.
Is it okay for you?
Let me know ASAP.
-MG
"Incoherent dumbass." Millie cusses under her breath, insulting Finn from afar.
He really has got the nerve to confirm a panel with her after telling her that loving her was a waste of time.
Every damn time, Finn swears he hates her and refuses to work with her, but of course, he would participate to a freaking comic con together!
What was even the logic behind it?
As she takes a sip of her coffee, she types her answer fast with just one hand, not bothering about her typos, and too tired to think about it that much.
I am okay Mel! Thx u for you concerning!!
I had the best time
Yeah im in. I'll let the whole organization in ur hands. :)
xoxo mills
Millie rolls her eyes and locks her phone once again, avoiding any call and superfluous work-related mail.
Her hand lazily grabs the remote and turns on the television; the same old gossip channel is running and she is tempted to change it when...
"—Things are getting real between Millie Bobby Brown and Louis Partridge!"
Millie lets out a long sigh of exasperation. Of course, medias couldn't be any more wrong. Hearing this lie the day after she broke up with him was a punch right to the face.
"The couple was spotted in London, walking out the restaurant in which Brown hosted her birthday party. The superstar has just turned 20 and she seems to know what she wants!"
She wished it was simple like that. Whoever wrote these articles always portrayed her as a calm, composed and unbelievably sweet girl; an adult ahead of her times, mature and responsible enough to know how to deal with that chaotic game called Hollywood.
But Millie is far from this. She is not perfect, and she breaks down more times that she can counts. A child who is afraid of the dark, of her same shadow... and of her feelings too.
"We all know Brown's long list of dates. After Sartorius, Busson, Robinson, the three times Emmys nominee seems pretty happy while dating one of the hottest BBC stars! Honestly, don't they look absolutely gorg side by side?"
The screen shows an old picture of them during the Enola Holmes' premiere on the red carpet and laughing at the cameras; and all she sees it's tons of make up, a cute dress and a girl she doesn't even recognize. Millie sees a version of herself being happy and satisfied.
Such a rare feeling nowadays.
"But here's the thing: there is a rumor that Brown seems to appreciate a certain company... a Canadian company. The person who's the dream of million of people, one the most famous curly haired actor!"
Was she really surprised to see his name appearing next to her one? Always connected, intertwined like the sun and the night. Two entities that could not exist without each other.
"They are just rumors, but sources confirms that Millie Bobby Brown is actually crushing bad on her costar, Finn Wolfhard, 21. The actor is currently dating a mysterious girl, but we are pretty sure Millie could get him in a snap of fingers if she wanted to—"
"Oh my Goodness, enough." She turns off the television immediately, slamming the remote on the coffee table.
Too much bullshit in a raw that she couldn't take. Also, which sources said that? The medias were lying judging by the fact she didn't tell her feelings to anyone.
It's honestly too much to handle.
She takes advantage of her sleepiness to cut off all of these thoughts that are leading to him and her catastrophic life. She curls herself in fetal position, the sound of the traffic outside lulling her into a profound slumber.
—
Minutes pass, and convert into hours; her sleep is deep and needed until a loud snap bombards the air and it brings her back to life.
Millie jerks up, the sound of her screaming heart engulfing her ears. She takes a look around the living room and her legs starts to tremble, fear growing and spreading inside her chest. What was that noise?
It's past midnight now. She notices that a lightbulb of a lamp doesn't work— and that was probably the loud snap she heard right now. She presses a hand over her chest, eyes squeezing shut in relief, "Oh, thanks God."
Dazed as ever before (and half asleep), she gets up from the sofa, and lets out a yawn, almost stumbling on her trolley still left untouched.
She takes the empty cup of coffee and put it into the sink of the kitchen, washing it accurately. She can't wait to go to sleep and wake in ten-eleven hours.
Until she hears it.
"Millie." The guttural voice hisses.
It's the sound of footsteps and a flebile manly sound close to her ear. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and the icy hiss makes her drop the cup into the sink.
Millie screeches, heart pounding, as she looks around terrified.
Someone is in her apartment. No, not just someone. It's him. She knows it. The voice comes from her bedroom.
Hesitantly and with insane eyes locked on the kitchen door, her hands gripes the counter until she can reach the cutlery drawer. She sticks out a random knife, holding it with desperation.
Really, she doesn't know what she's doing and she is acting purely out of panic.
"Millie, love, where are you?" Mason calls for her from the other room, the noise of his heavy walk making the parquet cracking the floor.
Her eyes dart around for the nearest escape and she doesn't know what she should do. Her iPhone is too far away and she doesn't dare to go back to her living room. She just need to go the fuck out of there and ask for help.
She takes some careful steps, both hands clenched to the sharp utensil. She can't refrain the spasm of her muscles as she reaches the door and make sure he is not in the corridor that leads to the apartment's door.
One.
She mentally counts to give herself some courage.
Two.
Millie's body is still stuck on the edge of the kitchen and her escape is just at some meters. Her breath is missing and her jaw is slack, it can't let out a single word.
Three.
The adrenaline pumps in her veins as her brain is shouting to get the hell out of there.
So, she runs, and runs, avoiding the elevator and bolting down the stairs that lead to the complex building's entrance. The loud slap of her bare feet resonates into the empty hall with a clashing echo.
She slams open the huge doorway of ATL Luxury Apartments, throwing her knife away, when she feels the tears starting to creep out her eyes as she realizes she has nowhere to go. Every thing around her is unfamiliar, as if she never saw it before. The night, the shadows, the buildings... Millie doesn't recognize them in that state of fear.
Her mind is so stuck on Mason's thought, that she doesn't think about the remote possibility that someone else could hurt her outside. That some random people could record her and put her on Internet in a matter of one minute.
Helpless, Millie runs her shaking hands through her hair as she stumbles in the middle of the parking lot. Her knees sunk into the ground of the outdoor space, in the only company of a dark pitch night and the light of some street lamp radiating a crystal glow.
She lets out a loud crying, eyes splintered because of the tears and the despair that is tormenting her alive. The pain is spreading and she doesn't know how to stop it.
She is alone this time. He will come to get her.
She looses the cognition of time as her tears burn her face, heart ripping her chest in two halves before she hears another voice coming from above.
And it's not Mason's one.
"Millie?" An incredule Finn is standing there, still, with his arm wrapped around Violet's shoulder while he is probably coming home after a night spent together.
It is going to start to pour soon, and he is wearing his hoodie on the top of his head, from which his bouncy curls pop out, caressing his delicate pale features.
She rolls her wet eyes up to him and she shakes her head, lips pressed together so tight she can't let out vocal thoughts. "I...I—"
She doesn't question why he's here, nor she asks for explanation. He is heaven sent right now. A gift from above.
"—Wait, is she that Millie? What the hell is she doing here at this hour?" Violet blinks, taking a step closer to that scene.
All that she sees is pathetic Millie Bobby Brown in her night clothes, small, little, and crying out loud in the middle of the street.
"Millie, what are you doing here?" He unlaces his hold from Violet just to kneel down in front of her.
God, for a moment, he didn't even recognize her.
Her face is so red and devastated by the pain that it's honestly hard to stare at her for more than three seconds. She is the image of what she was three years ago, when all the troubles began.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night? What happened?! Millie!"
She shakes her head again, tears flowing like rivers on her face and voice buried down her throat. The only thing her brain commands her can't be expressed with simple words.
"Hey! You need to talk to me." Finn helps her get up by holding her wrists, "Talk to me!"
Her throat is a disaster of mixed broken sobs as she tries to force herself to spit out a word. But the knot in her mouth does not let her.
Erasing all the thoughts she did just some hours before, Millie chains her arms around Finn's waist, pulling him close to her and crying over his shoulder, her grip so tight she feels she could even die if she let him go.
His concerned frown soften and Finn's arms move by their own as they wrap around her. There isn't any glimpse of hesitation. They just find the way to where they belong.
—
The following moments are just confused.
Millie is still under shock as she finds herself clung onto Finn's left arm, wordless and completely unable to speak. In her catatonic state, her cheek is pressed upon his arm, eyes left wandering into the void as Finn speaks animatedly to Violet.
"—So? Is she going to tell us why does she look like she has escaped from a madhouse or not?" Violet blurts out, hugging herself from the cold and squeezing her legs.
Finn looks down at her, "Millie... I know you are upset, but you really need you to talk to me now."
She shakes her head once again, tears still defining the shape of her cheeks. Like a child, she is firmly pressed against him and her hands are holding his arm.
Predictably, Violet doesn't like that touch.
Actually, she hates it, but she is not in the condition to play the jealous one right now.
She limits herself to cross her arms and looks impatiently at Finn.
"God. Should we call the police or something, Finn? She looks frightened by something or someone."
"—Mason. Fuck!" He finally looks down at her, claiming her attention and eyes, "Was he in your house?"
Millie nods, finally freeing her voice from the fear. It's such a relief for Finn hearing her speak. "I heard... I heard his voice. His steps. I am s-sure. He was there."
Finn shuts his eyes, jaw clenched, "Son of a bitch."
But that only helps him to raise more questions, "—Wait. Your house is on the other side of Atlanta, how did you come here?"
Millie sniffs, biting her lips, "No, I l-live here. I... I moved her in January, after he sent me those texts."
"—You live here?" His mind can't process all of this information.
"She lives here? Oh, fantastic. Great. The cherry on top." Violet laughs nervously, so needy for a cigarette to cool herself right now.
A cigarette and a kick in the ass to that girl who thinks she can hug and touch her boyfriend whenever she wants. What is worse is that Finn seems not to mind it all.
"My apartment i-is in the penthouse. Over there." She points at the last floor of the building.
"Really? I live here too. Not at your same floor, but close. Do you want us to take you home? Check the situation?"
Violet stares at him like she has seen a ghost, "Are you crazy, Finn? If this Mason dude is up there, he will kill us all! We need to call the police!"
"No!" Millie finally looks at Violet, "No police. I... Someone would talk and I can't allow this."
"Millie, Violet is right. If Mason is around, we need to call someone. Do I need to call your parents to pick you up? Or your bodyguards?"
She shakes her head again, "I don't w-want to go to my parents. They would worry too much, more t-than they already are..."
Finn mumbles, "Well, we can't leave your apartment unattended. You get what I'm saying, right?"
"Yes..." She tilts her heads up to her window, where the lights are still on, "You're right."
"Okay, uh... we can go there and take a quick look."
"—Are you fucking kidding me? Finn! What if he hurts you or us! You are acting like a fool. I'll call the police, I don't care what she says." Violet is ready to stick out her phone from her Prada purse before Millie's anxiety washes over her.
"No! No— please. Please, no police. I can't... I can't let them know again. It will be online and I..." She trails her voice off, looking at her with pleading eyes.
She doesn't know a thing about Finn's girlfriend and she knows she has no rights to dictate what she should do or not... But this goes beyond her own control.
Finn sighs loudly, nodding, "Yeah. Someone will snitch. And we have tried to water down Mason's shit for years, we can't let it out now."
"So are we supposed to go up there and hope for the best?!"
"Yeah, Violet!" Finn screams in exasperation, "This is exactly what we will do!"
"God, you're so fucking stubborn." She scowls, sticking her phone inside of her purse again and cussing under her breath, "Fine. Let's go up there killing each other."
"Millie, are you okay with it?" Finn murmurs to her, all of his attention directed to this little thing attached to him like a stamp.
Millie nods, as she lets both of her hands slide down his arm until his wrist and her fingers lace with his hand, "We can... go."
Feeling the shape of her hand brings him back to the bloody memories, and that touch is so reassuring and comforting that only helps to soften his shoulders. No matter if his hand is bigger than hers— he is protected whenever she holds him.
He bites the inside of his cheeks, biting his lips and not letting out a single emotion, "Alright. Let's go."
The three walk back inside the building and take the elevator that lead them to the last floor. Violet can't hide the sight of rage whenever her eyes spot Finn and Millie walking causally hand in hand right in front of her.
Millie's fear doesn't concern her, and her crocodile tears either. For what it looks like, she could have acted this scene just to take Finn back. And Violet won't allow this.
Once they get there, the door is still halfway open and the lights are on.
Millie's hand gets rigid and he squeezes it gently. He knows she is anxious. "Hey. Now I have to go inside..."
"Okay..."
"That means... You need to, uh, let go of my hand." He says, trying to get to the point with a delicate glance.
"Oh." Millie sniffs, "Y-Yeah, sorry."
She detangles her fingers from his, feeling empty all of a sudden. As something went missing in the moment their hands separated. It's been almost three years since she has held him so dearly.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Let's get inside." Violet doesn't even care at this point; she would do whatever it takes for not seeing Millie trying to drag Finn back in her shit.
Finn is the first walking around the apartment: he is overwhelmed by Millie's scent as he tries to orientate himself in that mess.
She is still so incredibly chaotic. He doesn't remember how many times he used to help her clean her room when they were together.
Bombarded by the flashbacks, he doesn't even acknowledge that he has reached her bedroom. Everything seems at its place. Not signs of infraction or broken things. Mason must have come inside when she was sleeping.
"The bedroom is empty." He shouts to the others girls.
"Yeah, the bathroom is empty too. Seems like the fucker has gone." Violet snorts, closing the door behind her and walking back to Millie who had the courage to get inside.
She feels disoriented, as if that wasn't even her house anymore. The LV trolley isn't in its original position, the stuff on the table is spread as if someone tried to look for something. But Finn and Violet doesn't seem to notice it.
She shakes her head and removes the thought of Mason touching her personal stuff. His slimy hands leaving traces of his disgusting person on her life. How many other things would he take away from her?
"He probably got out when you ran away. There are emergency exits everywhere here." Finn scratches his chin, reasoning out loud.
"Oh my goodness," Millie wipes away another tear, rubbing her forehead, "This is awful. He knows where I live again..."
"He must have someone who keeps a track on you and tell him your movement. You have to be extra careful from now on, alright?"
"Yeah," She hugs herself to obtain some comfort and warmth, "I w-will."
"Okay. Now that this The Psycho remake has ended, I would like to leave. This place gives me fucking nightmares." Violet is fast in intertwining Finn's hand in hers. The main intention to drag him by the door.
But Finn seems to have another idea.
Millie's sad pout and her arms embracing herself are telling him that she is far from fine. They can't leave her alone tonight. It would be inhuman to do so.
"Why can't she sleep in my apartment tonight?" Finn suggests, blocking Violet's walk.
Her smile drops, and she lets the hold go with a fast slap, "Excuse me? When did we decide to invite her for a pajamas party?!"
"Vio, she can use the guest room. She'll feel more reassured than sleeping in here where a stalker just touched her stuff, don't you think?" He crosses his arms.
"I don't... I don't want to create problems?" It's all Millie says because she doesn't want to make Finn ever angrier with her.
"Too late for that." Violet glares at her.
"No, you won't create problems. You will stay. And this is final." His eyes switch from Violet to Millie; and here it is, a little smile of gratitude curved on her lips.
Impatiently, Violet snorts before walking out, "Alright. But I want her out tomorrow morning. Collect your stuff, MBB. And don't play funny games."
Before Finn can follow her, Millie stops his wrist with both hands, "Thank you, Finn."
He hates the effect of Millie's eyes in him. They always make him feel so damn weak. How can you resist to those big doe oceans of sweetness? Those same eyes that used to hurt her bad.
"You're welcome. Come on now, collect your important stuff and follow us."
—
What are the odds that they lived so close for two months and they didn't even know?
Millie is seriously asking herself too many questions as Finn and Violet are making the way inside his apartment.
He is as messy as her. With his guitars in and there, packets of empty chips, bottles of water on the table and headphones and wires in every corner. This home screams Finn... and she wouldn't lie if she said she didn't like it.
"Alright." Finn opens the door and flicks the light on, "This is your bedroom. The whole flat just has one bathroom down the corridor so... make sure to knock before getting inside."
He buries his fists into his pockets, "And my room is next to yours. I have an alarm and all of that, so you can sleep in total peace. No one will enter here."
Her eyes catch the room with a fast but exhaustive glance. It's minimal and functional; the type of room of whom doesn't stay in the same place for more than an amount of months. Yellow walls, plain white queen sized bed, a wardrobe and the usual steer-framed window. That is all.
Millie takes a step inside, arms clenched around her towel, spare clothes, phone and a toothbrush, "That's nice. Thank you."
"Yeah, we can't tell you for sure it won't get noisy soon, but you know, couple life things." Violet adds, throwing her an exhaustive smile.
What a bloody bitch.
This is what Millie immediately thinks about Violet now that she is more lucid and stable with her thoughts.
Her eyes scan her better. Finn's girlfriend is just breast and full lips; the mini skirt she is wearing only helps to highlight her slim silhouette even more. Her white face is adorned by long, ebony curls, and her eyelashes are so curved, incredibly sweet and perfect. From the shape of her eyes, she gets she is oriental.
God, she has never felt so dreadful standing in front of someone. It happened a lot during her career, you know, to meet girls prettier than her. But Violet was absolutely stunning.
One thing was for sure: Finn has a great taste in women.
In response, Millie hands squeeze her stuff even tighter, containing a frown. "—Yeah. I mean, I get that. This is your apartment, after all."
"Glad we thought the same. I'll wait you in bed, Finn." She smiles to her boyfriend, brushing a kiss on his cheek and swaying away.
Finn and Millie both know that talking about that is not want they want to do. Violet is the huge elephant in the room they are trying so hard to ignore.
"Alright. Do you need something else? A glass of water? Milk? Now or never." He warns her, looking at her with curious eyes.
She looks around shyly, "I am good, thank you."
"Okay." He clears his throat, "If that's all, I'll go."
She sits on the mattress, bouncing on it to test if it is hard or soft. "Wait." She bounces, "This is way too hard! I can't sleep on this!"
"It will be fine. It's just for one night and you are too tired. And oh." Before going out, Finn opens the empty wardrobe and pulls out other two pillows.
Her eyes widen as she draws a tiny grateful
smile, "You remember I sleep with three pillows?"
"Yeah. Kinda difficult to forget." He replies back rather passively, resting them near the board of the bed.
"You know," She tucks her hair behind her ears. "I am not used of you to be nice to me."
He scoffs, as he doesn't dare to smile, "Let's just say you played your jolly card tonight."
"So... the jolly effect will be over tomorrow?" She asks, bringing back the usual mood.
It is too nice to believe, she knows it. She is perfectly aware that things will never get back the way they were before, but Millie is just like this: an hopeless dreamer and positive girl who tries to gain the best from anyone.
Confirming her fears, Finn nods, grabbing the handle of the door and walking out, "Yeah. Rest now."
As he closes the door, he lets out a breath. Goddamn it. What a phrenetic night.
He walks back to his own bedroom and Violet is right there, in her laced lilic undergarments, looking at her phone in boredom.
He grabs his sweaty hoodie from the collar and takes it off, and before he can pull out the top of his pajamas from the drawer, he feels Violet's embracing him from behind.
"Finally I can have you all for myself." She lets out in relief, kissing the back of his neck while standing on her tip toes.
"Yeah." He smiles tiredly, "What a night, uh?"
"What a night." She agrees, taking a step back.
She is waiting for him to continue, but he is just diving in his own inaccessible thoughts as he is standing in his boxer and wearing his pajamas: an horrible and overused black Ramones' t-shirt and blue shorts.
"So..." Violet looks around, "you're telling me you had to deal with this kind of things while you were dating her? Let me tell you: she did a great thing letting you go. You literally won."
"—Yeah, isn't it just great that she broke my heart? Definitely won the fucking game." He shots back in pure distress while looking for his phone charger.
She breathes heavily, "You know what I meant..."
"—Do I? Really? Because it seems to me that you're just playing the bitch." Finn glares at her, eyes full of resentment as he turns his body in her direction.
She scoffs, sitting on the mattress, "Babe, I am a bitch. And seriously, do you expect me to play the lovey dovey with her just because she's problematic? You pity her, while I don't."
"I don't pity her. I only wanted to help her. This is what... a nice person does!" He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling while shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, but you aren't her boyfriend or her friend. This thing of you running to her already happened twice. There won't be another one."
"Vio, it was just a—" He groans, removing his socks now, "Coincidence! Like, who the fuck knew she lived here?"
"Yeah, right, what a coincidence she chose to live right here and play the princess to be saved." She laughs cynically, "You seriously are too naive."
Finn can't believe her.
Again, she is treating him like a big baby who can't deal with his choices and life. Violet is great and all, but she keeps insinuating stuff he doesn't want to hear— and this is fucking bothering him.
"What are you implying now?"
She pulls her usual dismissive behavior, "That she is here to have you back. She chose to live here purposely so she can get you in her life again."
Then, she shows an ironical derision and taunts him even further, "And you, of course, are doing exactly what she wants!"
This is the last straw.
His jaw clenches and all of his face turns rigid like fine marble, "She didn't invent Mason, Vio! What the hell is wrong with you?! He exists! He wrote her letters and texts I read! She saw him!"
"Yeah, exactly. She chose to live here so the stalker will get here and you would help her. Easy. Mathematic." She keeps on, sticking to her point.
Millie can fool anyone but her. She was not born yesterday; she is a girl raised up in the streets and she played these stupid little tricks even better than her.
"Millie is not like that. She would... she would never lie about this and you know it." He lets out, feeling his body growing tired for all that discussion.
"She lied to love you for months. I don't see why you're believing her all of a sudden."
"I just—" He sits next to her, shaking his head, "I can't see her like this. A part of me still needs to help her. I have to help her. Okay?"
"But you're no one in her life. She has a boyfriend, didn't you see the news? She is with a British actor. She has him. But, for a weird reason, she keeps coming back to you."
That was true. Finn knows Millie is dating Louis and, damn, she seriously should rely on that guy more than on him. He can't be there anytime she wants and how she wants.
But he would lie if he said he didn't make him a little bit happy that he still could be useful, somehow...
Violet starts to play with his curls, murmuring softly to his ear, "Babe, you are such a nice guy. You are seriously splendid. But you can't run to her every time... She doesn't deserve it. She broke your heart, remember?"
"—Yeah, I remember." He sighs back, and damn, it still fucking hurt. Neither her comfortable touch can bring him back from thinking of Millie.
Then, she starts to kiss the corner of his lips, "So let me help you forget your heartbreak..."
He tilts his head as his mouth move against hers. Violet seems to follow the flow, hands buried in his curls as she draws him even closer to her, growing anxious and tensed about that kiss. She slides a hand up his thigh before he immediately stops her, as well as the burning kiss.
"No, wait— no." He pulls away abruptly, "What the fuck? I won't do anything with you while Millie is sleeping right next to us. What if she hears?"
She raises a brow, completely struck by this stupid comment of his. "I don't see the big deal?"
He shakes his head in indignation, "Do you even fucking hear the bullshit you say!?"
"I just wanted to make you feel better. We do this every single time." She groans, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, not today. We aren't going to fuck while Millie is sleeping and trying to forget her stalker! Fucking hell!" He gets up and grabs one pillow before sliding the door open.
Her shoulders drops, lips parting, "Where are you going now!"
"Sleeping on the sofa. I am not in for being your usual good fuck tonight." He shuts the door closed with harshness, walking to the living room.
He throws his pillow on the couch and grabs a random blanket. He tucks himself under it, wrapping himself like a taco... but he is surprised to see his feet dangling from the edge.
Fuck. His legs are too long even for his own sofa.
He squeezes his eyes shut, and maybe, he sleeps for one or two hours, he can't say for sure; it's the sting on his back that wakes him up. The ache of sleeping on a mattress he wasn't used to.
"Goddamn it." He moans in pain, blinking his eyes as he notices a light coming from the kitchen.
He gets up, letting the blanket fall from him, while yawning loudly.
When he gets close, he sees Millie snooping around the cupboards, looking for something.
She is wearing her pajamas— a leopard printed thing zipped up til her neck. He would never understand how she can wear that without feeling like a toddler.
"Can I help you?" He rests on the door frame with arms and legs crossed.
Millie feels caught, even if she isn't doing anything wrong. "Yeah. Your room is t-too warm and my throat is dry. I was looking for something to drink."
"This is exactly why I asked you if you wanted some water before sleeping, you dumbass." He raises his brow as he gets a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water for her.
"Here. Don't be the usual picky, I assure you the tap water here is good and filtered." He hands the glass to her.
She smiles gratefully as she cups it with both hands, "Thank you. And don't you ever call me dumbass again."
He raises a playful brow, "Why not? You are."
"The only dumbass in here is you, Finn Wolfhard." She remarks before talking a sip of water.
"Um... Why are you up too?" She asks as she drums her fingers in the glassy item.
"Well," He rubs his aching back, containing a painful moan, "Turns out my sofa is not that comfy as I thought."
"Are you sleeping on the sofa? I thought— you and Violet were..."
"—No. Don't say it. It's goddamn weird." He almost gags, looking at her with a huge frown.
She laughs softly, "I don't see why should it be weird. Finn, we are both twenty. There's nothing wrong about sex."
If only she had it ever in her life. Because it never happened to her and she doesn't even regret it. It would happen when it happened, and she wasn't looking for it.
"Believe it or not, I don't like talking about it with you. You are not my friend or something."
"Yeah. Thanks for reminding me that." She scoffs, placing the glass into the empty sink.
"No, what I mean to say is— you are not Josh, or Caleb, or whatever. It's weird talking about it to you. You are, you know..." He rambles nonsense as he stares at her.
For as much as silly it is, she looks adorable with that leotarded onesie and, well, he knows very well what that thick fabric is hiding underneath. A sea of tempting and soft curves kissed by an olive tan.
She raises a brow in confusion, "Am I...?"
"—Yeah, too young. You're like... a little sister? Let's put this way."
She wiggles her brows, "Was I your little sister even when you shoved your tongue down my throat three years ago? Or when you touched my ass?"
"Millie." He interrupts her, feeling an hint of red panting his cheeks, "You get what I'm trying to say."
"No, I'm not really getting it." She crosses her arms, smiling satisfied, "Light me."
"Things have changed between us. That's all. We are not friends, lovers, or shit like that."
"And don't forget that you hate me!" She adds again with fake enthusiasm.
"Yup. Even that. But that was taken for granted."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right."
The sudden silence building up in the air makes her believe that it's time to face another hot topic that she is sure won't lead anywhere. But she has to try now that he is in front of her, kind of... messy, but still lucid to discuss about everything.
"And um," She nibbles her bottom lip, foot pressed on the floor, "about your birthday phone call..."
"No, I don't want to talk about it. For real, Millie. I meant any word I said. I did. There's no need to bring that shit up again." He feels his shoulders tensing as he walks out the kitchen and reaches the living room.
Millie follows him through the corridor and see him sitting on his couch, "And I did mean mine! I just wanted to tell you that it must be hard working side by side with me. I am sorry."
He scratches his forehead, swiping his tangle of curls away from his eyes in annoyance, "It is. Yeah. Every time I see you... it's like seeing the old us. Together. And it pisses me off so fucking much."
She nods, starting to fidget nervously, "But now you are dating. You should stick with the new memories... you can build with her. You can leave us behind."
"Yeah, I should." He agrees, but that doesn't mean he will do it. "Same goes for you, by the way."
Millie's gaze drops to her toes, as she feels the guilt rising within her. "I am not... dating anyone right now."
Finn shakes his face in confusion, "What about your little whale?"
Well, he can't hide the thrilling sensation popping in his stomach.
That dude, Louis or whatever was his name, was seriously not for her. He got it by the way he was perfect. Millie does not like perfect; instead, she seeks authenticity and people who she loves to challenge and fight with just to make up soon after.
"Hey! Stop calling him like that!" She walks up to him and sits next to him, just for giving him a light slap on his shoulder.
"Sorry. That shit was too funny. Seriously, now, what didn't work?"
"Um... We sort of broke up." Her answer is evasive and she knows he won't stop asking her things now.
"But it doesn't make any sense. What about the stargazing post?" He stares at her, and he has to admit it was weird having her so close.
"Everything went downhill from that moment." She bites her lips, trying to forget what happened just two days before.
That whole dance that lead to her break up, his two phone calls, her conflicted sentiments... Finn doesn't know any of this, neither imagines that everything happened revolved around him.
He doesn't know he is still her constant. If she is a star, Finn is her sun that makes her world spin around. Blazing, hot, at the center of the universe... and she would love to stare at him without any worry. But Millie is condemned to see him from afar or through a filter to prevent to hurt herself.
"Why?"
He is getting to invasive and Millie doesn't like it. She can spot on his face that smirk of victory and, damn, she was exactly giving him what he wished for: her suffering for a heartbreak (even if it wasn't entirely true).
"I have got my reasons. And I don't see w-why I should tell them to you." She immediately turns serious.
"Jeez, I was just asking." He scoffs loudly, letting himself fall on the couch, two hands crossed behind his head.
"Yeah, you were asking and you shouldn't have. As you said, we are not even friends!" She immediately gets up.
What a stupid mother fucker.
When she dares to ask something, he eats her alive. If he does, she is supposed to reply without hesitation. This is not how the thing works.
"We aren't, but I am finally trying to be normal. So you could at least do the fucking same, don't you think?" His voices raises now, bringing back their usual fight mood.
"This is how you're wrong." She stares down at him, "You're no one to ask. All of this conversation is fake and we are just trying to be civil, but there's nothing behind it. No love, affection, concern... we don't have a basis to talk about something!"
Her words only triggers his aching heart. Millie never fails to make him lose his mind and that unstable bit of rationality he has.
He jerks up the sofa and dangerously walks towards her, "I literally saved you and brought you to my house. I think we are safe to say that I'm at least concerned about you!"
"Really?" She looks at him directly in the eyes, frowning heavy, "Or are you just pitying me? Treating me like a charity case!?"
"I am not pitying you in any fucking way! I just had the decency to give you comfort even if my body aches every time I look at YOU!"
"Oh, please!" She lets out a loud scoff, "Stop with this usual pity party, Finn!"
"You don't believe me, but it fucking aches, Millie. Like, you don't know how it feels being around you. You don't know how it feels being me!" He almost roars, voice so sharp she swears it could cut her face in any moment.
"—And you don't know how it feels being me, Finn!"
"You won't e-ever know." She adds before holding back another useless crying.
He sighs as he gets the sparkle of sadness shining in her eyes. He shouldn't yell at her after what has been through this night.
They have their problems, but this can't happen in this moment.
He lets his shoulder drops, as he closes his eyes for a moment, "Millie, listen—"
"Forget it. Goodnight." She walks away to her bedroom and by the way she doesn't hear any other sound, she knows he isn't chasing after her.
He never does.
He rolls his eyes up to the sky, slamming his hands on the sofa in tiredness, "Yeah, 'night."
—
The following morning is not as gloomy as the one before. There is a pleasing sun irradiating through the glass of the windows. One of ray of sun hits Finn right to his face.
He groans with furred tongue, covering his head with the blanket and seeking for the darkness again. But it's too late anyway. His senses are already waking up, and so does his whole body.
There's a pleasing smell of... pancakes in the air?
He raises a brow as he uncovers himself and slow (very slow) gets up from that sofa made by Satan.
He walks to the kitchen following the rich smell of sugar and what he sees it's like a dream coming true. Or a far away memory. Or an inner desire. Whatever it is, Finn just knows that his stomach his growling and his eyes are liking what they are seeing.
Millie is using her spatula to place the pancakes on two empty plates, biting her tongue in concentration and trying her best to not mess up.
"Since when you cook without burning the whole kitchen?" Finn blinks, walking to the kitchen island.
She scowls, "Youtube tutorials are kinda useful."
She is still kind of bothered with his attitude, but she didn't want to feel in debt with him, so she thought that— hey! A breakfast was the least she could do to make herself useful after all that weird night of tears.
He sits on the stool, arms crossed on the horizontal surface as he looks at her squeezing the bottle of syrup on her creation.
"These are for you and your girlfriend." She says quietly, abounding with the chocolate syrup on Finn's pancakes because she knows he loves it.
He is like a big child and very picky when it came to food. Just like her— but at the very least, she loves all fruit and vegetables.
"Here." She licks her thumb with the superfluous chocolate, as she slides the plate in front of him.
"Uh. Thanks. But... what about you?" He looks for her breakfast behind her, but he doesn't see anything.
"Not hungry." She presses her lips together, brushing it off easily.
He bites the inside of his cheeks, his look traveling on her belly. No matter how much how thick are her clothes, he can notice she is way too slim lately, and he doesn't like it.
"I have never seen you eating on set. You do eat, right?"
"Of course I do." She snorts, looking at him with her duh face. "—Is Violet still sleeping?"
He looks at the wall where the clock is, "Definitely. It's just eight. She will for at least another hour."
"Oh. Okay. Uhm... enjoy your breakfast." She rushes to say while trotting out the kitchen.
"Wait— you really think I would let you go so easily?" He claims her back, eyebrows pinched together.
She turns herself, "What?"
He rolls his eyes, using fork and knife to split his pancakes into two halves, "Grab a dish. You need to eat."
"No, Finn, I'm—"
He breathes loudly, "Millie, for once in your life, don't piss me off and do what I say. Like, damn."
"O-Okay." She pulls out a plate from the cupboard so he can rest the breakfast on it.
Weird to admit, but he is acting nice; he even gave her the bigger half of his pancakes.
She shows him a small smile as she sits next to him, "Thanks."
"Yeah. Don't care. Eat."
Like that, they start to eat in silence. The only sound is the hand of the clock moving, and they are both staring at their food as if it was their only way to escape from glancing at each other.
Incredibly, it's Finn who feels the need to escape from that tensed silence. "These are good."
She nods back, gulping down, "They incredibly are. The melted chocolate helps a lot."
He nibbles his lips, holding back that traitor smile that want to appear on his lips, "Yeah."
"Uhm. Do you remember when we had that pajamas party all together at my house and Noah wanted to prepare smoothies?" Millie suddenly says.
"Yeah." Finn nods, snorting a bit, "That dumbass forgot to put the lid on the blender and all the smoothie exploded in the kitchen. It looked like pink shit."
"And Gaten walked in—" Her laughs vibrates in his ears, "Walked in right when the blender started!"
Without any warning, Finn chuckles back, "Damn, yes, I still can hear his cussing!"
"Yes." She still laughs, "My dad was so pissed when he saw the kitchen like that! He was looking for us, remember?"
"Yeah? Where were we when that happened?" He asks without even thinking.
Millie's smile drops immediately, and a pink flush takes over her cheeks, "Probably... kissing somewhere."
Finn's eyes wide as he leg starts to shake, "Yeah, like, we kissed a lot. Right."
It's hard for her containing her stupid heartbeat. For being an actress, Millie is struggling in faking disinterest. The muscles of her face can't stop showing the emotion craved into her heart. That sense of familiarity is so hard to handle.
She looks at him a bit, and he does the same. Nothing happens in the middle of it. Not a kiss. Not a touch. Not a word.
It's a silent look that says it all.
"—Oh, what a marvelous couple we have here. Do you want me to bring you the wedding rings?"
They break the eye lock just when Violet presents herself in the kitchen half naked; at least, Millie can admit, she had the decency to wear her (mini) night robe around her slim waist.
God. It was illegal looking that beautiful just waken up. Millie is looking at herself in the reflection of the oven in front of her: messy bun, the same hoodie of the day before, and eyes destroyed by the jet leg and tears.
Who would ever look at her and think she was pretty? Even Finn had move on with someone definitely more eye pleasing.
"Vio. She just cooked us breakfast. Your plate is there." He says, containing his frown.
She slides the dish away from her with a finger, "I don't eat carbs. Anyways."
"—How nice of you, MBB. I thought you had a cooker and couldn't do anything!" She chirps in all of her bitterness.
"Just because I'm famous that doesn't mean I can't do normal stuff." Millie replies with a hint of annoyance as she gets up from the stool.
"Wow, humble, are we?".
"—Vio, cut it." Finn leaves the good manners as he glares at her.
"You're right. I should cut it because it's time for our rescued princess to go. I said I didn't want to have her here after breakfast."
Violet's stare on Finn is intense, demanding. While his eyes are just stuck on Millie and her face creeping out full offense; still, she won't let out an impolite word to that woman.
She was right. That was more Violet's apartment than hers; and the boy standing wordless between them? Hers too.
"Yeah. I'll go. I... have to see my family anyway." Millie murmurs, without even sparing a single glance at them while quitting the kitchen.
The magic of some moments before disappeared. And like that, everything turned like it was before... Showing reality for what it really was.
"Thanks for letting me stay, Finn."
He doesn't reply; his legs are glued to the stool as the silence resonates in the kitchen. The only loud sounds are the thoughts shouting to his ears.
Tired, Finn rubs a hand over his face, clearly irritated before glaring at Violet. "You really had to, right? Like, was it fucking necessary?"
"Yes, I had. Because you were all flirty and big eyes. Fucking pathetic. You are falling into her trap." Violet crosses her arms in defense, eyes steady on him.
Finn glimpses a frown, talking animatedly with a hand, "What trap are you talking about? Jesus, Vio, we were just having breakfast and talking normally for once!"
"That's the point," She eyes him, "I don't want you to talk to her normally. Actually, I don't want you two to talk at all. I want you to let her go!"
"—And I did. She is out of my life, but that doesn't mean I can't talk to her, especially when she had a rough time like that!" Finn yells without even realizing it, and he can't control his mood swings.
Especially in the fucking early morning.
"But she doesn't deserve it!" She yells even louder, "Where was she when you had your rough time?! Uh?!"
Finn gulps down loudly, shaking his heads lightly without letting a word fall from his lips.
He feels the sorrow building up; brick by brick, the heartbreak comes back, the only thing that keep Finn tied to his unhappiness.
Noticing his reluctance to answer, Violet keeps on. She needs to make him understand that he doesn't need anyone else in his life outside of her.
"I'll answer. She was far away from you. And you came to me. I comforted you for almost two bloody years. You confided in me. You chose me. Because I always know what it's the best for you!"
It's on that moment that Finn stands up for himself. "Are you sure about it? Because I don't feel at my best at all right now! You are making me feel like shit!"
"The best thing doesn't have to make you feel nice! You need to fuck off from Millie. See how she makes you every single time?!" She points at him from head to toe with an arm, scoffing after in bitter hilarity.
"Are you doing this because you want my best or just because you're jealous of Millie?!"
"—Both! Shouldn't I be jealous after I saw my boyfriend holding hands and eating next to her?! Uh? I am not a robot who can suppress her feelings, Finn!"
"—But you are starting to piss me off with your jealousy. This is not a competition between you two! It never WAS!"
Millie closes her eyes as she hears these words coming from other room. Her hands cup her face, helping her holding back that silent scream of frustration rising in her throat.
She just wants to disappear from the universe.
She is ruining everything. Everybody.
"See? We are already fighting because of her! She is succeeding in tearing us a part! Yesterday was a hand holding, today a breakfast, tomorrow a date, and then she will get you back!" Violet snaps her fingers easily.
"This won't happen because she doesn't love me. She never fucking did, Vio!" His voice rasps his vocal chords as he lets it all out.
"—And I don't love her! Nothing will change my mind about this! Absolutely fucking nothing!"
"So now that you know I won't run off with her, fuck off with your stupid, unnecessary jealousy shit and let me live for once!" Finn concludes, every muscle of his body tensed and face showing absolute disdain.
Violet tights her clenched hands and, fierce (and proud) as she is, she won't let him show her hurt feelings. You just can't let them show when they hurt you.
Her gaze drops to the floor, "Just tell her to go out of here. This is all that I'm asking you."
He snorts as he takes some steps towards the door, "This is really all you have to say after what I just told you? Goddamn it, you are incredible."
"Finn—" She tries to stop his shoulders, but he has no intention to do it.
"Fuck off." He growls as he shoulders past her, his feet leading to Millie's bedroom.
He doesn't even knock, he needs to talk to her immediately. But when he walks past the door, she doesn't see her anymore.
All of her stuff has gone.
"Fuck." He presses his lips as his shut his eyes close and slam a silent punch to the door frame. "Fuck!"
Fuck love. Fuck Violet and her jealousy. Fuck Millie breaking his heart and making him feel bloody things after all of that time.
Fuck everything.
Finn has enough of it.
In the same moment, Millie is walking in tears to the parking lot, waiting for her bodyguard to pick her up and take her to her family's house.
There's nothing she can do here anymore.
She looks back at Finn's apartment. She lost him. He moved on.
Because of her stupid feelings, she was destroying his new life and his new relationship, and it was about time to get a rid of them. No matter how hard it will be, Millie will fight herself to hate him so she won't succumb to herself and her desire to be loved by someone.
She doesn't have any right to love him, he was right all along. Actually, she didn't have any right to love or being loved in general.
Because...
She is a waste of his time.
Loving you. All of that. A goddamn waste of time.
A liar.
Lying whores are not my type.
A heart breaker, even when most of the times she was the one left with a broken heart.
You ruined me! Did you fucking hear me?!
She sees the car approaching, Oliver and her driver inside of it.
With trembling hand, Millie opens the door of the car as she jumps in without hesitation, blocking out her tears.
And with them, hopefully, her heart too.
—
Hellooooo!! 💫
Okay this was very intense lol but a delight to write! We got a glimpse of normal starlight Fillie!! Weren't they cute during the pancake scene?? Or when they hugged of held hands? Hehe
Let me know what ya think! Any critique? Suggestion? Feedback??
Be ready because next one is very... eh. 😔😔
Byeeee
Grace 💓