dreaming |fillie au|

|forty seven|

|forty seven|
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3 days later : tuesday

Millie's POV

"What if-?"

"No, they're no good." I wouldn't budge with the hesitant boy or the puny tablets that sat on the bottom of the toilet water.

Finn stared into the bowl as his features twisted into hatred, disgust, but also nostalgic desire.

Unlike him, there wasn't a trace of regret or a pause within me when I reached in front of him to flush the toilet. The last of Finn's pill stash could now be gone forever.

When I realized the boy I loved had vanished, his smile never faded but it put me on edge. His eyes glazed over as if they were looking right through me, like I was a ghost that had utterly baffled him. The ebony irises gleamed with a wicked intensity that terrified me to my core. He was no longer my peaceful, sweet boyfriend that would put me in a fit of giggles. No longer the adorable person who tickled me and blushed profusely whenever I looked in his direction.

He shook with the effects of withdrawal. And like a wild animal, staring in the oblivious eyes of their prey, he shook with anticipation. An ominous, uneasy air settled across the room.

It's worrisome that someone's character can even be transformed that much by a substance. But the animal had been released from it's cage, right? And it is gone... Right?

He is my Finnie again. He is because I don't know what I would do to myself if he wasn't.

It is so nice to get a week break off of school. That way, there will be plenty of time to help Finn get on track with school work and social life.

The beautiful strum below his calloused fingers filled my ears like a harp fills Heaven.

"Can you play Every Breath You Take by The Police?" My eyes glazed over in adoration for the boy sitting cross legged on the carpet floor.

Finn bit his lip before speaking, "I can try."

The familiar beat flowed with a different sound, molded by the string instrument. A crystal clear drop ran down the varnished wood. It came from the ceiling. Finn stopped playing and it was when his shoulders began to tremble that I could see the drop didn't come from the ceiling. And another tear fell from his misty eyes.

I stumbled off the bed to collect his head that dangled against this chest. The strap of the guitar held the instrument in place when he dropped it to pull me closer. I could just barely hear the unsteady rumble of his words, muffle in my neck.

"I always played songs for my dad."

Little wet spots formed on my shirt from where we smothered each other to protect the other person from the outside.

"You still can."

"He's... dead." Never in my life had I ever heard such a shaky voice that was about to break and crumble down a cliff.

"He can still listen."

I thought our bodies would melt together as he branded me with his hot fingers, pulling me seamlessly against his gaunt figure. The walls of his room seemed to bend and contort to hug around us so the room breathed as we did. Our breaths tethered and became one fluid motion.

His vice grip loosened. After I assumed he had fallen asleep against me, a raspy sound vibrated my chest. "Maybe it'll keep us connected."

I knew he was referring to his guitar. The item he received from his dad on his tenth birthday. It looked enormous next to a young child but it was for Finn to grow into and hold onto forever.