Finn Wolfhard Imagines

36 - we meet again (st)

*a/n: part 4*

***

05/03/2001

You still missed him. You departed on good terms ... you hope. You were the one that broke up with Mike and you were the one who walked away 5 years ago at his wedding. But you still can't let him go. You should've stayed and tried to create the friendship you used to have back in the day but it's too late now. He's married to the woman he loves and possibly has a child or children he absolutely adores.

Leaning up against a tree, you watched children playing on the playground around the corner to your apartment, specifically - not to be creepy or anything - looking at a friendship group of 5 that consisted of 4 boys and 1 one girl. You smile to yourself, reminiscing about the old days when you were their age playing with toy dragons in Mike's basement.

You sigh deeply to yourself. Mike's basement. How you miss that basement. One that holds so many memories, both good and bad.

But you weren't here to stalk the little children playing on the playground or in the sandbox making tiny sandcastles you were actually--

"Y/n?" You gasp and turn around, "hey," his voice was still the same as it was 5 years ago. So was his hair, it grew into a miniature afro that made his tiny face look even smaller against the curls.

"Mike..." you breathe out from shock, your heartbeat rattled against your ribcage, emotions making your throat tighten, "...we meet again. Hi," you say, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here? Come to look at little children are we?"

"Not children. Child. One specific child," he looks past you and following his line of sight you lock eyes on the cutest little girl you've ever seen. She was dressed in a daisy dress and we had a small face with the chubbiest cheeks ever. The little girl also possessed curly hair that was no longer than her shoulders. She looked familiar. You look back over at Mike, "let me guess, yours and Els?"

"Yep."

"You're a dad," you realize.

"I am."

"How old is she?"

"1 and a half. Turning 2 in a couple weeks."

"And I wonder why I wasn't invited to the baby shower," you tease.

"Dada," you turn back and see a tiny little figure zoom past, watching her being swept off her feet by her dad.

"Hey there my little princess," he smooches her cheeks as she giggles cutely.

"How cute is she," you mutter under your breath, completely in love with how cute she looked despite her young age.

"Mama," you turn around once again and see a tiny boy running towards you as a smile automatically forms on your face as you lift him up and into your arms, "hi my bebé. Was the playground fun?"

He nods frantically, "yeah."

"Besito mi bebé," you pucker up your lips as your baby leans in and kisses your lips with his tiny ones. You giggle and turn to Mike who ultimately looks shocked, "you alright there Wheeler?" You question.

"You have a...a..."

"Son? Yes? But not biological unfortunately. I adopted him when he was only 2 months. He's everything I ever need now," you interrupt.

"Bebé meet Michael. Michael meet Micha," you introduce, stroking little Micha's back as he nuzzles his head into your neck.

"Princess meet y/n. Y/n meet y/s/n."

*a/n: y/s/n - your shortened name*

You smile slightly at the use of your shortened name as the name for his daughter, "El had no objections to that name?"

"I had to fight her for it. Not pretty."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

You look down at Micha and see his heavy lids convincing him to shut them and go to dreamland, "we should start heading home."

He grabs your waist unexpectedly and pulls you close. Your breath stops and your throat begins to hurt. He slides his hand to your nape and pulls you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead before pulling apart, your cheeks beginning to have a burning sensation to them as he connected your foreheads, "goodbye y/n."

You swallow sharply, "goodbye Mike."

Once again you're the one departing first from the conversation and continue to walk without looking back, your eyes welling up with desperate tears that really want to fall but you forced them not to.