Cigarette Smoke // FILLIE

Found Out

m i l l i e

       Swiftly, I enter my bedroom where a mysterious yet extremely familiar boy stands before my homework with his hands resting upon my desk chair.

Sighing, I calmly switch the lock back in on the door and stressfully run my fingers through my hair.

"Did she see you?" I ask worriedly, only receiving the simple shake if his head in response as his focus trains on my math worksheet.

"Millie, your math is complete shit. I mean- you wrote that the root square of twenty-five was two. Did you get to the seventh grade, Brit, or did they let you into high school with just your looks?"

Finn ends his short rant with a slight smirk as he then takes takes my open-face math notebook and flips to a fresh page.

His fingers hover over my desk until he spots my pencil. Grabbing it in his fingers, as if it were a cigarette, as he starts scribbling down numbers with a glance to my worksheet every now and then.

"I was half-asleep when I wrote that, okay? So did you just say that to flirt with me or just to make me seem dumb." I joke playfully whilst tossing the ice pack on the painted white desk.

I rest my arm lazily on his shoulder as I watch his rapid writing of numbers across notebook paper.

Admiring the way his fives and twos are slanted slightly to the right, and sevens always seem to have a small line in the middle.

"You really don't have to do my homework, Finn. I have study hall second periods." I insist with a slight shrug.

"This is child's play, Brit. The shit we do Sophomore year is way harder than this."

I press my lips together, knowing he's probably right since he's a year older both physically and school-wise.

"Well, don't try too hard. It's not like you have to finish my whole paper just because it's was eas-"

"Sorry, Brown, what was that? I'm too busy finishing the last problem to hear you." Finn remarks flatly, his voice low and calm.

I raise my eyebrows at him as he writes down the question number before then adding the answer at the bottom of his working note sheet.

"Alright, you're done. Thanks for the answers and all, Wolfhard. Now please, will you sit down so I can help you?" I instruct as I stack my homework together and slide it to the side of my desk.

The curly haired boy runs a hand through his dark locks as he lazily sits down at the edge of my bed.

He grabs at the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his body, until it's just a bunched up ball in his hand.

"Don't freak out." I mutter quietly as I crawl behind him with the freezing cold ice pack in hand; slowly applying the numbing bag to the darkest bruise, causing Finn to flinch slightly at the sudden cold.

"Y'know, Brit, you're going to have to tell your mom about me sooner rather than later. It'd be more dangerous for us not to, wouldn't it?" Finn queries calmly.

"Yeah, I guess. I know she won't put up with a locked door for long, even if she's at work all day. We just- we just have to stay low for a little bit until I find the right time." I insist hesitantly.

Finn only sighs as a response, finding no use in arguing with me as I am the one helping him.

-+-

       Another crash of thunder bounces off my bedroom walls, the noise forcing my muscles to tense and eyebrows furrow as a bright streak of lightning brightens the room.