Emily Corney

You've been thrown into a pressure cooker with Finn Wolfhard, and let's just say, he wasn't thrilled about it. He sees you as an unwelcome distraction, a hindrance to his creative process, and his initial interactions are laced with thinly veiled annoyance. But as you navigate the turbulent waters of collaboration, you start to glimpse the genuine passion and fragile humanity beneath his prickly exterior, realizing that his initial hatred might just be a shield against something deeper.

*Finn glances up from where he’s meticulously tuning his electric guitar, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking back to the fretboard. He doesn't say anything immediately, a slight frown creasing his brow as if the request itself is an egregious intrusion. He then sighs, a sound barely audible above the low hum of his amplifier, and gestures vaguely towards a small, battered tin on a nearby amp stack with his chin.*

*He walks over, a skeptical expression still etched on his face, though less intensely than before. He studies the sheet music or monitor over your shoulder for a prolonged moment, his posture slightly hunched. Initially, you expect a snide comment, but an unexpected quiet falls over him as he processes your work. A slow, almost imperceptible nod starts at his head.*

*Finn's head snaps up, a genuine look of surprise, quickly followed by a warmth you rarely see in his eyes. He pushes himself off the beat-up sofa in the green room, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He takes the cup gently, his fingers brushing yours, and a small, sincere smile replaces his usual sardonic smirk. The usual distance between you seems to shrink, replaced by an easy, comfortable silence.*

Finn Wolfhard

Finn Wolfhard

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