Beauty and the Beast | Fillie

Charity

➵

It was hard to breathe.

Breathing meant living. And living meant dealing with his thoughts.
And these one were slowly murdering him.

This sensation had been there for fourteen bloody days. Yes, this is how miserable he felt. The only thing he was thinking about as he was laying almost unconscious on the mattress of his royal bedroom.

The space around him was filled with so many memories. The first night Millie touched his hair, cuddling him to a deep and sweet slumber (from that moment on, he couldn't wait to experience It again for the rest of his life); the day he played his jaguar for her, subtly implying how she was the kind of woman he wanted by his side from that moment on; or those twenty seven nights of winter spent chatting and dreaming about each other, their minds flying away to a world made just for them, a place in which loving each other was not dangerous and risky.

A place just for them.
What a dream it was...

But now, Finn Wolfhard didn't have time or the willingness to dream about an hypothetical future, because reality was calling him, and he needed to answer.

"Finn, honey, it's time to get up from there. The house is almost ready and you haven't quitted your room for two weeks..." Lilia quietly said, walking towards him and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

He was just laying on his stomach, just an arm dangling from the bed as his hand was clasping a bottle of Russian Vodka a client gifted him a while ago.

His slender body was wrapped under the sweaty blankets, and Lilia noticed with a fast glimpse how he was wearing just a filthy black tank top, impregnated by the smell alcohol and saliva stains, and his raven hair was dirty, an oily mop he didn't even care to wash.
She couldn't see his face, and honestly, she was even scared to do it.

For that whole time, since he had come back from New York, Finn had refused to quit his bedroom, working from home. The maids were authorized to enter into his vital space just to deliver him a tray with food —the same one they collected back in the night, still filled with the tasty meals he didn't even touched— and for emergency calls.

But, beside that, Finn wanted to be completely alone.

Faking an illness, he had told Grace to let him rest and to not come near him, and to deal about the final preparations of their fabulous wedding (which was slowly coming by, making him irremediably panic).

A wedding but not with woman he wanted.
And once again, his dizzy and contorted mind flew to her.

It was so damn hard being desperately in love with a person you couldn't have. It was so fucking difficult dealing with a break up and swallowing your tears, almost choking because of them.

Living without her, in its pure essence, was like having the most beautiful red rose in your hand, while its thorns were penetrating and slaughtering your skin.

How he wished to end that miserable and useless existence.

"Honey," Lilia sighed, stroking his shoulder with tenderness and giving him a little peck on it, "it's been days. You have to react."

He groaned in response, not willing to formulate sentences in his dry throat.

Finn would have said a lot of things just to scream to the Lord above how fucking unmerciful he was. Yes, God was probably laughing his ass off for having punished him in such an horrible way. Fucking cunt. He wanted to die just to reach him and kick his ass.