Starlight | Fillie

Law of Attraction

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If there was something that Finn didn't like, those were overcrowded parties and mundane events. They were and still are his pain in the ass.

God, he hates everything: from the preparation to the pictures, from the red carpets to the public speeches and interviews. It is a constant nausea he holds back in his guts.

Honor mention goes to his makeover session.

"Ouch! Blondie, you're ripping my goddamn hair!"

Finn is sitting there, in the room of the five stars hotel, as the member of his team is combing his dripping wet hair with force.

The woman bits back a chuckle as she struggles with the comb through his thick strands of hair, "You know what they say: beauty is pain."

"—What beauty are you talking about? Every time you style my hair, I look like a clown." He breathes through his teeth, staring deadly at his reflection.

He looks like a lifeless wet dog, pretty much. Hair too long for the life of him and some clear signs of sleepless nights all over his face, with a hint of anxiety and drugs from time to time.

"Finn!" She can't believe how rude he is today.

He is on regular basis in the last months, but now he is really reaching another level.

He sighs, patting her hand softly, "Sorry. Sorry, okay? I am not in a good mood and I didn't have to let it out on you."

Finn knows why he is feeling like this. He blames it on a brunette who can't leave his mind, stuck and tattooed all over his memories. The only cause of his pain it's her. Or at least, this is what he tries to tell to himself. It's always easy blaming and judging someone else.

Blondie shows a crooked smile, "Okay... forgiven. But try to relax, now. You're going to have fun tonight. We have chosen the best outfit for you!"

There he goes his glimpse of sweetness again.

Christ. Whenever he has to participate to a part, he feels like a baby doll that needs to be dressed up.

Rhonda, his stylist, has weirdly opted for something different this time, just because people were constantly harassing her in her comment section on Instagram and she wanted to shut them up once and for all.

For her best client Finn, she opted for a pair of Saint Laurent black leather trousers, a translucent dark shirt as well, a naughty tie, and a jacket with golden embroidered details. Oh, and of course, maroon shiny boots that compliment the whole outfit so well.

"You look wonderful. You should send a picture to your girlfriend!" Rhonda lets out excitedly, snapping a picture of him to post on her feed.

"Maybe later." He snorts, walking to the bathroom of his suite. He isn't in the mood for talking to Violet right now or to whoever.

"—Where are you going? You have to leave in ten minutes!" Rhonda says with some blatant exasperation in her voice.

Finn has just turned twenty one but he is still in his teenage rebel phase, it seems.

"Can I take a piss in peace or what?" He shouts from the other room, slamming the door.

But he knows this is not what he is really going to do. He locks the door and he looks for it. He craves it tonight, more than ever, desperate for a rapid solution to shut down his heart. It's a bad day (more like a bad life) and he wants to feel happy for at least five minutes... Five minutes of nothingness. Is it too much to ask?