Once upon a time

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"Finn where you are taking me?"

That was the question she had been asking to herself for at least an hour, since Finn Wolfhard basically had kidnapped her from her bedroom, imposing her to do her bag and run as soon as possible to the garage.

He told her to dress comfy, because the place in which they were going to wasn't as cold as Vancouver, a fact which was strange: was he taking her outside Canada for a trip or something?

It was seven a.m in the morning, and Millie was not a morning person; with her hair still tangled, a pouty face and tiredness all over her body, she lazily walked to the bathroom, taking a quick shower. Afterwards, she basically put on her high waist pink pants (Noah always told her "these make your ass even finer!") and a white sweatshirt with three big daises printed on it.

Just a comb of hair, perfume, a little bit of make up, and...

"Millie, are you ready? It's taking you more time than usu—" Finn fried to say while entering the room, but his eyes softened as his vision met the sight of her, that marvelous short brat he couldn't wait to embrace again.

"What?" she asked, with a glimpse of amusement in her eyes, still with the mascara in her hand and the little brush close to her long eye lash.

Finn Wolfhard smiled like a fool, not believing one second that girl was real. She was beautiful, in everything she did. Especially that day — with her lips colored by a baby pink creamy lipstick (something Millie had never done before), which he found it extremely tempting.

"Wo, brat, you wearing lipstick. Trying to seduce someone? Trying to get some?" he let out, while resting his figure to the door frame, arms crossed and an annoying smirk all over his freckled face.

"One day I am gonna cut that nasty tongue of yours." she whispered deliciously, as she was finally concluding to do her make up, "I am almost done, I promise!"

"Fucking great. My jet is waiting for us." he exploded, flopping his hair with a hand and putting his fiddler hat back on the top of his silky ebony curls.

"Your— jet?"

And before she could even had the time to realize it, she was sitting on a private plane with her crazy boss, the one she cuddled with in a fort made of blankets just the day before; they had whispered sweet words, beautiful things in that little corner, and she believed that, in a way, Finn was sweeter and more romantic than he could have ever admitted.

"So... have you ever taken a plane, brat?" he asked while being sat on that leather cream colored sit, as the hostess was serving them coffee and tea.

"Yes, one time. Traveling from London to Vancouver."

"How was London?" he asked, genuinely curious to know better something about her past, her opinions about whatever.

Everything she said, gained a new meaning and value to him, because she could articulate her thoughts better than the other people he usually talked to.

"It was fine, I guess. I can't remember it very well. But I do remember mom taking me to a nice place after school. We drank tea at five. The most British thing in the universe... but mom loved it, and I loved it too." she said while the memories were coming back, like a cold breeze, lulling her and making her feel bittersweet.

Those were the only times in which Winona were a great mother; before she fell into her alcol problems, before she ran away, before her dad got depressed and hopeless.

And Finn noticed how her little mood swing; her pretty dimples weren't there anymore, and something was clearly bothering her. He unfastened his seat belt, hers too (Millie was just sitting in front of him), and he simply made her tiny body sit on his lap, closing his hold with his hands intertwining by her hip.

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