RECORDS ◈ FINN WOLFHARD

18 | RECORDS

Y/N

_

"FINN, YOU HAVE DIRT ON YOUR FACE," I giggled, placing my hand on the boy's cheek, "I'm not going to question how it got there."

We were currently waiting outside of the airport, our suitcases piled around us while we waited for a cab to come. Vancouver was cold today. Really cold. I wished I looked up the weather before spontaneously hopping on a flight with Finn for a visit, but I obviously didn't, and now I was wrapped in my boyfriend's puffy jacket for warmth.

It was Patagonia! So fancy!

"I'm glad to be back home," he grinned, grabbing my hand and tugging me closer, "it's been ages since I've been back."

"Since we've been back."

"Oh, yes, how could I forget my lovely girlfriend," he teased, pecking the top of my forehead, "I'm glad you decided to come with me."

I smiled, turning my head to see a bright orange taxi cab pull up to the block in front of us. It only took a glance, some tugging of suitcases, and debating on who should go in first, before the two of us found ourselves seated in the backseat of a car heading towards Finn's house.

As we'd pass by the landmarks, I couldn't help but feel my heart warm while watching him place his hands against the window and start rambling about things he recognized.

:)

"This is the lion's gate bridge!" He exclaimed, "I used this when Nick used to drive me to school!"

I turned my head towards the opposite window, looking at the spiraling pillars and clamps holding up the road we were traveling on. I didn't recognize half of the things he pointed out, because the last time I was here, I was only focused on the concert — and a certain boy I happened to run into.

"Oh! And there's a billboard about Poutine!" He pointed out, "classic!"

I felt his palm press over mine, and he lifted it onto his lap. I cocked a brow in amusement; he was really having the time of his life.

"I need to give you a tour," he grinned, squeezing my hand, "does that sound alright?"

I nodded, "better than alright."

"We can go for dinner, and then I'll take you to see some of the sights."

"Do you want to pick the place?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I know this really good place a couple blocks from the—" he cut himself off, whipping his head towards the window again, "stop the car!"

I widened my eyes in surprise, and it seemed the driver of the cab did the same. The two of us turned towards Finn in confusion, wondering if we heard his sudden request right.

"Please!" The boy pleaded abruptly, leaning over the passenger seat, "can we pull over?"

"Finn, why?"

"Look!"

I leaned back to see what all the fuss was about, but then I caught a glimpse of something familiar. We were passing a small shop, people littered inside, bags in their hands, and smiled on their faces. At the top was a busted up sign, but the words painted on it were clear enough to read: RINKED RECORDS.

"Yeah!" I exclaimed as well, "stop the car!"

"Please sir, stop the car!"

"Please!"

"Please with cherries on top?!"

The driver exhaled in annoyance, but finally listened to our requests. He pulled over a couple yards away from the shop, and tapped his finger against his dashboard as Finn and I paid him a fair amount to wait for us while we went in, and to look after our suitcases.

And then we promptly zoomed out of the cab and into the shop.

It looked just like we remembered it, with it's mint green walls, stacks of records, and soft music trickling out of the speakers like air. It was nostalgic almost. Maybe with a side of Dejavu— I half expected my ear to start bleeding, and in need of a boy to help stich it up.

"Gosh, it's like we never left," Finn smiled, letting out a breathy sigh, "I've missed this place."

I grabbed his hand, "shall we?"

"Yes, we shall."

Our arms swinging back and forth between us, we zigzagged around the shop, pointing out bits and pieces of things we recognized. A scratch on the wall, an album that had remained untouched for what seemed like years, the beat up cash register, the air-mattress at the top of the store, and the small guitar pick box behind the counter.

We were making quite a few heads turn in the shop, but we paid them no mind. As of now, our focus was on a black and orange album sitting in the 60s stack.

"Oh my gosh," I grinned, picking it up, "remember this?"

In my hands was the copy of Elenore by the Turtles. Which...ironically, was the first song that Finn ever played for me in the store. Funny how it was the first one we found when we returned.

"We should buy it," he suggested, pulling me into a hug, "just for old time's sake."

I giggled, "you make it sound like we're old and grey."

"Still doesn't mean we shouldn't buy it."

Finn had explained earlier that the shop was bought by another owner when he left, and that he probably wouldn't get an employee discount anymore—not that it mattered with both of our career choices. If anything, we could buy the entire store if we wanted.

"I'm so glad I met you," he exhaled, wrapping his arms around me, "how lucky can one guy be?"

I smiled into his embrace, "I'm asking myself the same thing."

"Are you a lucky guy?"

"Oh, pfft, you're ruining the moment!" I scolded, "but I'm a lucky girl."

We just rocked back and forth for a moment, both of us letting ourselves submerge in the feeling of nostalgia, but then something caught my attention. A new song was trickling in through the speakers, a melody I remembered so vividly.

Something in the way she moves...

I looked up, locking eyes with the boy in my arms, "you hear that, right?"

Finn tilted his head, "I hear it."

"Isn't that so funny?"

He grinned, lifting his hand to push a few strands of hair out of my face, "what is?"

What is?

The answer to that could be a lot of things. Funny how I met a boy in a record shop, and happened to fall in love with him unexpectedly. Funny how he became the one thing that kept me going. Funny how we both loved music, and loved living, and loved each other with everything we had.

But that wasn't it.

"Funny," I smiled, "they're playing our record."