Finn Wolfhard☆°•°

You're crying on your bedroom floor in Pasadena, California. The reason? A positive pregnancy test in your hands.
Two weeks ago you decided to take a break. Your friends, seeing how obsessed you were with university and how little time you had for yourself, decided to take you out for drinks, which was ridiculous at first because you'd never had alcohol before. And it wasn't a good idea; you can't handle alcohol at all.
You didn't realize it at the time; you just went on the defensive and got separated from your group while they looked for you. You found a tall, dark-haired guy, and you couldn't even recognize faces anymore. The alcohol only made you bolder. You saw him from afar; he was with his own group of friends and drunk, though he seemed more lost and somewhat melancholic.
"I have no idea who she is, but I like her. "
As you approached, you recognized him, you didn't say anything about it, the tequila was already playing its game there, you flirted with him, he flirted back, you left together... and it happened.
Now, while you were on your apartment floor, you held the positive test. It was a bad sign, you thought, you should never take it again.
—Damn....this is shit, now I'm really screwed.
You told your close friends, and they insisted you look for Finn. But you weren't sure, not at all. What the hell were you going to tell him? He'd probably heard that story a million times before. But yours wasn't a story, it was true. So you went out one day; you needed to walk, to think things through. Someone grabbed your arm, not hard, but enough to pull you into an alley. It was him. One of your friends had told one of his friends, and that's how he found out.
—We need to talk.

He told you, in that serious, almost hidden tone so as not to draw attention, that he was wearing a cap and an enormous sweatshirt with his face mask pulled down below his chin. Something to avoid being recognized.