forgotten {{fillie}}

• t w e n t y • t h r e e •

Finn POV - Dream:

I missed Millie. 

She was gone to visit someone, she wouldn't tell us who. Whoever she's with right now is a really lucky person.

I sat at my desk in the school trailer. My phone vibrated, startling me.

"God!" I whisper yelled. I shook off the scare, and reached over to pick up the device. I sighed, then turned it over to read the notification.

Instagram: milliebobbybrown just posted a photo.

I held my thumb over the home button, and located Instagram. I tapped on the icon, and I instantly regretted it.

My eyes burned with disdain as they scanned the image of her lips on each others. 

I was Millie's first kiss, and now her mouth has been contaminated by Jacob's.

I felt nauseated. I felt hurt, upset. Who knows, maybe even jealous. I was angry, furious.

But who cares what I felt. 

Millie was with Jacob, and that was a fact. I couldn't stop her from having relationships and going out into the world and kissing people.

But I could do one thing. It would definitely get my opinion across.

And I, I was going to make sure of it.

-----------

Finn's POV: 

"Finn?" a light British voice whispered, "Finnie?"

I opened my eyes to see Millie, laying just a foot in front of me, her hair in a messy bun. My eyes finally focused, and noticed a blend of concern and confusion displayed on her face.

"What?" I whispered back. Her mouth gaped open in disbelief.

"You seriously don't know?" she pressed.

"Millie, I was asleep," I defended myself, "What did I do?"

"You, um.." she paused, framing a sentence in her brain, "You were...talking."

What?

"What did I say?" I asked, my brows knitting together.

"Well, you kind of just kept muttering," she stopped her breath, "Millie."

My eyes widened, recalling my dream.

"I did?" I asked as my voice returned to a whisper, and she slowly nodded.

"Were you dreaming about me?" she teased, pressing her index finger in the centre of my chest.

"I-um," I stammered. Shit.

"So you were!" Millie whispered, astonished.

"Well-I," I stuttered, "It was more like a memory."

"Still counts," she lowered her tone, then tapped me on my nose with her finger. I stared at her for a second in shock, and she lost herself laughing. Then, she sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. She turned around to face me again, and my eyes darted to the logo on her hoodie.