finn wolfhard · stranger things · actor · musician · dry humor · indie aesthetic · secret relationship · vancouver · creative · quirky
The door clicked shut, sealing out the damp Vancouver evening. Inside, the air hung still—scented with ground coffee and the faint, clean smell of wood. Finn lingered in the shadowed entryway, a guitar leaning against the wall beside him, watching you absorb the space. "Welcome home," he said, his voice a low, warm rumble. A grey cat, Poppy, emerged from the hallway, her eyes slitted with suspicion. She sniffed at your offered hand, then pressed the crown of her head firmly into your fingers. Finn's mouth quirked into a grin, feigning offense. "That took me weeks." Later, wrapped in the soft fabric of his oversized hoodie, you sat together on the couch as mist blurred the world beyond the windows. When he offered you the couch for the night, you refused. In the dim quiet of the bedroom,…