SEQUEL to INFATUATED
"Life used to be so simple without you around, but now it's like we're kids all over again!"
After escaping the drunken and vengeful wrath of her father, and frantically mourning the assumed death of Finn, Y/N decides to carry...
N O T I C E: This book includes detailed themes surrounding sex, adultery, violence, suicide, abuse, sexual harassment, alcohol, drugs, blood, death, anxiety, ptsd and other very sensitive topics — are all graphically depicted in this story.
Proceed with notice. Viewer discretion advised. (nothing new, you know the drill)
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THE BUNGALOW WAS quiet. Too quiet. Finn laid in the bed Y/N had said she had stayed in before, tossing and turning into the night. He barely slept, his eyes disobeying his desperate pleads for sleep.
He thought he'd appreciate the quiet. Now it's just suffocating him beneath his own thoughts.
He got up from the bed, wearing only a white wifebeater tank top and grey sweatpants. He made his way barefoot through the quiet and dark bungalow, exploring the small and quaint little space he'd be living in for the time being.
He paced the house, walking around with his head tilted back, trying to clear his head enough to try and get some sleep. That didn't work.
He opened his eyes, tilting his head steady again to see the box on the table again. The one that Y/N left him. He walked over to it, curious to see what else was in there. He opened the flaps of the box, sifting through the things as he remembered packing it all eight years ago.
He had so much hope that night.
He picked up a few of his old hoodies, one of them in particular stood out from the rest. It was his Nirvana one, the one he wore the night of the shooting at Y/N's house. His thumbs smoothed over the fabric, from what he assumed to be bleach from when Y/N might've tried to get the blood stains out from when he..from that night.
He set the hoodie to the side, finding his wallet next. He picked it up, not expecting to see that everything inside was untouched. Even the small amount of cash he had was still in there. Y/N couldn't bring herself to touch anything inside.
He set it to the side as well, expecting to see a certain set of keys that belonged to a certain car of his. If his wallet was untouched, his keys shouldn't be far behind.
But as he searched the box, he couldn't find the keys to his Impala, wondering what might have happened to it.
He figured that Y/N probably sold his Impala or exchanged it for the money, which sort of bummed him out. But then he figured she probably really needed the money, so he didn't mind as much.
