antisocial

[ 20 ]

[ YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY SUNSHINE. ]

• • •

F I N N

• • •

"Finn Wolfhard?"

The clicking of the ink pen was frantic. Abnormal, even. Finn had stayed put on his chair for a while, not bothering to check the clock that ticked it's way around the surface. It was as if the object was putting on a challenge. A challenge that Finn could not place his foot on.

"Mister Wolfhard?"

The vague voice had called once again. Finn blinked his dark eyes away from his pen that continued to click as he looked up at the elder who sat at the front desk. Her expression was unclear, rather, more of unenthusiastic and straining.

He had gotten up from his seat by now, heading toward the taut and wooden desk that stood carefully before him. The freckled boy tapped his cold fingers onto the edge; scratching it with the honed tip of his nails.

The elder hummed nonchalantly, opening up a few documents from the tanned, soft folders that were stacked to the right side of the desk. And Finn wondered. Wondered just how many reports were about him? His family? Maybe he was a fool for even thinking. Maybe it's the thing about those whispers that scream in his ears. The whispers that convince him things that he couldn't bring himself to face. The truth.

"Here, this is a pass for your appointment. Be sure, to leave at the exact same time the slip tells you too," the elder had deadpanned, passing a light blue slip with sharpened words of "appointment at 1 o'clock to 3. be sure to leave at the time!"

Finn scoffed as he stuffed the slip in his small back pocket. "I'm not a baby, I know what time is."

Without a further ado, he had turned his heel, leaving the wrenched room in sullen silence.

• • •

The room was empty once he had gotten there.

Finn had examined the area carefully; the antiques that were placed like swaddled babies through the small but thick shelves and the laced cotton stripes that were plastered onto the nude brown walls as if it was an attempt for a closure of an indie design.

"Aha! I see you have found my layer!"

The freckled boy, who was abruptly startled, flipped to a swift motion as if he was caught in the act.

The young woman, who had portrayed herself on the front steps of the door, threw her hands up to their sides dramatically with an earning grin.

"Woah there, I wasn't doing anything illegal, was I?" she had inquired oddly.

Finn shrugged as he gave out an awkward smile, making the oddly fascinating adult smile wider than probably the whole atmosphere.

He suddenly inspected the way her hair was pulled up into a frizzy mess bun, how her blue glasses clacked onto her nose and the peculiar patterns that were splotched disorderly as if it was some disastrous art that had been tempted to be painted miraculously.

Before Finn could've spoken, the young woman already passed by him with the swift of her feet, already sitting patiently on her chair that twirled.

"Please sit, I don't bite," she reassured as her lips danced graciously into a smile.

The curly-headed boy obeyed, slumping into the uncomfortable sitting of the squished bottom of his chair. But, he did not have a proper choice, did he?