apathy | fillie.

²⁾ strawberry wine

[TW: LANGUAGE. VIOLENCE. MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT.]

❝ it's funny how those memories they last, like strawberry wine and seventeen ! ❞

━ CHAPTER TWO.

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"HAPPY BIRTHDAY."

"thanks," millie replied nonchalantly, taking her right hand that was doused in the mixture of blood and wine and shaking it lightly, attempting to rid of some of the substance in order to take the elastic that hung around her wrist and wrap it around her hair instead, pulling it into a neat, blood splattered ponytail.

the dead man faulkner still lay between the two much like a water feature, a fountain of blood continuously shooting up into the air from its source of the area in which the broken bottle had pierced his brain in a variety of heights and volumes.

"he just keeps on going, doesn't he?" millie observed emotionless, her eyes glued to the corpse and then skirting back up to the boy who seemed to be in a state of silent chaos.
"yeah," finn replied, somewhat shocked at how casual the girl seemed about the events that had taken place, "I guess."
millie gave him a little somber half smile, a sharp exhale escaping from her nostrils as she realized just how inundated the scene truly was, "you're 'fuckin drenched, you know that?"

finn looked down at himself, observing his now purple-red shirt and pants, as well as his slippery hands and fingers. "oh," he muttered, beginning to feel the liquid seep into the nooks and crevasses of his skin, "you are too."
"yeah, no shit," millie muttered as she began an attempt to stand up, the fountain between them beginning to die down.

finn watched as she maintained her balance on the slippery floor, smoothing out her once white dress that was now simply wet limp fabric that stuck to her body delicately.

"are–uh–are you okay?" the boy questioned as he stared at her, an eyebrow raised at how much she seemingly exuded a calm and collected demeanor.
"yeah, I'm fine–just a bit traumatized after being felt up and then killing someone and all. you?"
"I'm fine," finn gulped, feeling somewhat guilty for even asking such a question in the first place.

"I need to get out of here," millie abruptly announced, her nose crinkling into a sniffle and her eyes blinking quickly, "and you need to leave, before matt finds out—"
finn eyed her with confusion, beginning to stand up from the bloody ground himself.
"—you know, if you wanna keep your job and all," she reasoned.

the boy coughed awkwardly, his hands disappearing behind his raven curls, fingers brushing against his neck to test the waters of just how painful the bruises that tattered his skin were.
"yeah, I don't really got one anymore," finn spoke softly and quickly, shame taking over his body as flickering images of the man he had bashed in the skull raced through his mind, the bloodied rock still lying heavy in his pocket, weighing him down like a constant reminder.

"what do you mean?" millie questioned, checking the purse she had brought with her initially that now resided in the corner of the wine cellar, having been flung in that direction after faulkner had thrown her to the floor.

"I, uh, I crashed," finn muttered, eyes glued to the floor and fingers balled up into a fist, "kinda fucked everything up."
"fucked up what, another heist?" millie wondered aloud, slinging the purse over her left shoulder, "jesus, how many banks are there in atlanta?"