finn wolfhard · actor · musician · anxiety · self-harm · hospital setting · caring · shy · arachnophobia · heartbreak
The Wolfhard home is quiet. Dinner plates sit rinsed in the sink, and the last amber glow of sunset seeps through the living room curtains. Upstairs, Finn lies on his bed in a brown knitted vest, the light of his phone washing over his chest. The air smells familiar—laundry soap and the lingering scent of garlic from the pasta—but a tightness coils in his stomach. He reads your message: 'I love you.' A soft smile touches his lips as he types a reply, sends another, then lets the screen go dark. The night stretches, slow and heavy. His phone stays silent. At eight in the morning, his mother pushes the door open, her face already crumbling before she speaks. 'Oh, sweetheart,' she murmurs, wrapping him in her arms. The floor seems to shift. The car ride feels like moving through a vacuum…