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— ❝I DON'T NEED AN ANTIDOTE❞
When Millie blinked her eyes open to the familiar quiet hum of the plane jets outside the small circular window, the first thing that greeted her eyes was darkness. Then, everything blurred into focus shortly.
The night sky that they flew into was right before her eyes through that small window. The light of the moon glimmered in as small, dim lights in the cabin provided barely enough to see clearly. She noticed the clouds that the plane flew right through, and it was a beautiful sight to see.
Millie hummed softly as she turned her cheek, fluttering her eyes shut. She was a bit taken aback when she felt her skin brush against something rougher than the comfy seat behind her.
It took a few moments for it to register that she was curled up in an odd position. Her legs were beside her on her left beneath the fuzzy blanket, and the upper half of her body pressed against another to her right. Lifting her gaze, she realized just how close she came to Finn in her sleep.
Oddly enough, there was a certain yearning she had dreamt of in her dreamless slumber. A dream she couldn't remember, like most times, but the remnants of emotions clung to her like a glue. That yearning didn't last so long, it disappeared sometime before she felt herself pulled into consciousness, where she felt more content.
She tilted her head up, eyes droopy as she looked up at him so closely. The curls above his forehead dangled above her as his head tilted towards her. His lips twitched slightly, a breath huffed out as his brows furrowed.
Millie grew curious as to whether or not he was dreaming. Did he dream often? Sometimes she wished she did, but with all the times she had taken drugs, she figured whatever her dreams could conjure up just seeped into her distorted reality.
Tentatively, she held her breath as she shut her eyes, pressing her cheek against his arm. Just the same as she had woken up. But for some reason, it didn't feel as comfortable.
With a sigh, she began to wiggle around in her seat, finding a comfortable position. She felt as if she was too close to him somehow. Which in all honesty was a stupid thing to even think of when she had been even closer to him before.
Still, being so sober, no longer on the brink of sleep, and so very much aware of the warmth he emanated with each soft breath he exhaled that caressed her cheek, it sent her pulse racing. What was wrong with her?
She brushed these distractions aside, although it didn't do much to help her feel calmer about their proximity. It felt nearly impossible to move around without waking him when she felt her nerves rising the higher her cheek pressed against him, the more she became aware of how much she liked him beside her like this. The thought briefly crossed her mind that maybe she wasn't so comfortable because she wanted to be even closer.
