American Cliché - Finneas story

Midnight confessions

Chapter Two: Midnight Confessions

---

Y/N held her breath as she opened the door a little wider, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves all over again. She looked back at Finneas, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Do you... want to come in for a bit?"

His eyes lit up, that easy smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he said softly, stepping over the threshold. "I’d love to."

Inside, the world felt quiet, wrapped in the cozy warmth of dim lighting and soft music playing faintly from the stereo. Y/N’s heart was still racing, but there was something comforting about having him here in her space, where things felt familiar and safe.

They settled on the couch, both a little closer than before, like they were naturally pulled together. Y/N laughed as she recounted one of her favorite childhood stories, and Finneas listened, his gaze soft and unwavering, like every word was something he wanted to remember.

Somewhere in the midst of their laughter, he shook his head, smiling to himself before turning to her with a look that was both tender and amazed. “How did I get along so long without you?”

She felt her heart skip a beat. There was something in his voice, a quiet honesty that wrapped around her, making her feel both vulnerable and completely seen.

“Same,” she whispered, meeting his gaze, her voice barely more than a breath.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, both a little caught off guard by how easily their feelings had surfaced. Finneas’s thoughts tumbled over themselves—how he’d fallen for her laugh, her kindness, her warmth. He hadn’t felt this kind of connection in what felt like forever, and now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine letting it go.

As she held his gaze, Y/N could see something shift in his eyes—a quiet intensity, a look that held more than words ever could. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering just a moment too long. She could feel her cheeks flush, the air between them thickening, charged with something unspoken.

Without thinking, Y/N placed her hand over his, her fingers brushing against his palm. They both froze, the touch so simple yet somehow electric. A soft smile spread across Finneas’s face, his thumb gently tracing over her hand as if memorizing the feel of it.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “I think I was waiting for you all along.”

Her breath hitched, and without another word, she leaned in, closing the space between them. And as his lips met hers, everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if all the pieces had fallen into place, and in that perfect, quiet moment, they both knew—this was the start of something that would be theirs, something real and beautiful, in a world that felt like their own.

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other, sharing whispered promises and gentle touches until the night faded and the first light of morning began to break through the window. And in the silence, both of them knew they’d found something neither had ever expected to find: home.