Cigarette Smoke V.II // FILLIE

Look of You

m i l l i e

"Why don't you want to meet them anyway?" I ask curiously from across the booth, watching as he shifts his dark eyes from the window to my own.

"Why would I want to meet them?" Finn questions back lazily, nibbling on the inside of his lower lip in thought.

My brows furrow in confusion, "Why not? There's no down side to meeting people like them, they're just.. good people."

He raises his brows while scoffing, almost as if to say 'yeah, sure they are'. I roll my eyes at his dramatic expressions.

"Just, give them a chance, alright? Just because people you've met in the past leave you and hurt you, doesn't mean that people will in the future. Then again, with your attitude, yeah- I'm sure they might." I explain simply with sympathy but also attitude laced through my accent.

He presses his lips together impatiently, "Y'know, you're smarter than you think. And you definitely know me better than I would like to admit- than I would prefer, for that matter." He confesses through a sigh before taking another sip of his strong scented black coffee.

"Do I know too much, Mr. Mystery?" I ask through a playful smile, watching as he snickers in amusement while shaking his head dismissively.

"For real, though, I want you to meet them. Not now, if you don't want to, but soon." I remind while taking one of his hands, flipping it over to his palm, and tracing my fingers over his skin out of boredom.

"As you wish, your highness." He mutters calmly, using his free hand to run his fingers through his curls as he stares at me contently.

"Are you staring, Wolfhard?"

He shrugs, "I like the look of you, is that a crime?"

I smile softly at his soft spoken words, trying my best to repress the grin that wants to print itself over my features as my cheeks grow a pale pink.

"Not that I can recall." I answer casually, watching as he slightly smiles to himself.

-+-

(pull up the lyrics to 'cell' by calpurnia during this part to really understand the premise and what the characters are saying)

f.w.

"Finn, some of these lyrics don't make any fucking sense." Ayla comments while reading over the badly scribbled words I wrote down at 2 am last night, finishing at 3.

It's been forever since we talked due to her drunk mistake of kissing me, and my even bigger mistake of kissing back.

Millie and I worked it out that same night, though. And Ayla apologized in a long message sent via voicemail the following morning; she sent a similar version to Millie.

"Exactly, that's a part of the interpretation. Thoughts don't make sense, but if you look at one and.. I mean really look deep into it, there's always a more significant meaning." I explain passionately, though my tone still stays low and casual despite the words spoken.

She raises a skeptical brow, "Uh-huh.. right."

"Well- what do you hate about it?" I mutter out, my voice coming out tired and low after only getting three hours of sleep.

She tucks a piece of her lengthy blond hair behind her ear as she reads over the lyrics with lips parted in hesitation.

"For starters, I don't see what 'calling it chastity' has anything to do with anything in this song." Ayla admits honestly, which is exactly why I came to her for advice- she's honest.