hollywood forever ( fillie )

→CHAPTER TWELVE.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

❝ BABY, WHERE ARE YOU
ON THIS MIDNIGHT BLUE? ❞

••

Friendship was something that had always held a high importance to Finn. Each friendship was equally important in his eyes, though each was different in their own little ways.

And that little known fact is what keeps him from acting on impulse and declaring every single feeling that has buried within him since he had first seen Millie on that night of the pre-party at the Emmys.

Of course, it wasn't such an impossible thing to do. Not even with his current tired state of mind that he was often finding himself in.

Sleep was something that was hardly greeting him anymore. It seemed (especially after that one night in Paris) that it would be much tougher finding sleep when he was alone. And the aching emptiness in his heart was not helping in making those long nights any better.

Nothing seemed to really help much, actually. No sleeping pills or home remedies, nothing was offering his tired and droopy eyes any solace into the soft grasp of any dreams.

But what did help him get through those recent nights was the way he was allowing himself to fall back under the spell of music.

Constantly mindlessly writing words on paper that came from the heart, creating short tunes that could have become something more if he spent more time with it. It gives him a way to ease the long nights where it felt like sleep was somewhere faraway, too out of reach, until eventually, it wasn't.

Everything he comes up with, though, continuously revolves around one thing.

Or rather, one person that he wished would have just left his mind already.

Instead of that, though, she was crowding every fleeting thought of his. During every moment of his pastime, she somehow always sprung up as the muse behind every little thing of his doing.

He supposed that it could have been because somewhere tucked away in the back of his closet, that same piece of pink fabric that belonged to her is safely hidden away.

There is something about it that he finds whispering, almost taunting in the back of his mind to bring attention to it. And he cannot figure out what it is.

Because as plentiful as those distractions of his come to keep his mind occupied and leading it away from the thought of her, it seems to always trail back to that piece of clothing. More importantly, it leads back to one thing in particular that was said during their time somewhere in Italy.