Glimpses of Him

Chapter Forty-One

Hank

Now

“You’re not Santa.”

Nope, he was definitely not Santa. He’d been referred to as many things in life, but never as Santa. Hank tilted his head, looking at the house number on the polished brass plate next to the front door, but he was in the right place. No doubt about it.

“Hi there,” Hank offered in his most I’m-not-a-creepy-old-guy-just-an-old-guy voice. The kid, who looked mean despite rocking PJs covered with pigs, threw him a critical look, scrunching his nose, like he wasn’t at all convinced that Hank wasn’t about to do a home invasion of some sort.

“Fenn, sweetheart, didn’t I tell you not to open the door when you don’t know who it is?” A middle-aged woman with near-black hair appeared at the boy’s side, patting his dark head of curls fondly. No question the two of them were related; their eyes were the same shade of blue as well.

“But how can I know who it is before I open the door?” The kid sighed overbearingly, his logic leaving a tired expression on the older woman’s face. Then she decided on the path that generations of adults had chosen before her when unable to meet a child’s logic with a satisfactory reply. Crouching in front of the child, she smiled knowingly, deflect written all over her face.

“Weren’t you and Granddad supposed to get cookies and milk for Santa?”

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot.” The kid looked bewildered for a second before turning on his heel, testing his lungs as far as they would go. “Granddaaaddd?! Granddaaaddd?!” As he sprinted off, the woman rose with a wince, her smile to Hank curious yet friendly.

“Hi,” she spoke softly. “Can I help you?” Hank swallowed because, of course, it had been highly unlikely that it would be Finn answering the door. And even though he’d rehearsed how this was going to go down several times today, no one could really prepare you for standing in front of a stranger who was probably Finn’s mother. And—if he was going to take a wild guess—around his own age. Shit. No, they didn’t hand out manuals for this kind of scenario at the Home Depot.

“Yes, sorry for the intrusion, ma’am,” he forced out, hoping his voice didn’t fail him now. Shifting on his feet, the brutal ocean wind biting at his neck, he slowly counted to three internally, willing his senses to work with him on this. “I was wondering if Finn was here?”

“Finn?” the woman repeated, a frown appearing between her dark brows. Then something seemed to dawn on her, recognition flashing in her eyes as she blushed slightly. “Oh, yes, Finn,” she repeated, the smile returning, even brighter this time. “Of course. Of course.” She held up a finger. “Just a second. I’ll get him for you.” She turned on her heel, then stopped short, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.” She sent Hank a look that could only be described as a polite warning.

“Thank you,” Hank murmured at her retreating figure. So, Finn must’ve told her something for her to react this way. Oh shit. Rubbing his glove-covered hands together, he started pacing the wooden deck, nearly stumbling over a large cardboard box overspilling with Christmas lights. Looking around, taking in his surroundings in the weak, early afternoon sun, he noticed that the entire front of the house screamed Christmas and seasonal spirit. Damnit. What was he thinking? He wasn’t, and that was the problem, wasn’t it? Here he was, walking in on a strange family the day before Christmas with no plan, no nothing. Then his eyes started swimming, Finn’s words washing over him, reminding him once again why he was here. Why he needed to be here.

‘ We aren’t selfish people, Hank, although, at times, I wish we were. Our love—because it is love—is not a selfish one. ’ He was here for Finn. Because Finn had asked him to come. Well, that was part of it. He realized he was here for himself, too. Because for once in a very long time, he, too, felt like being selfish. Doing something that was just for him and no one else. And, although at first, because it had felt like a betrayal to Eugene, Hank had hesitated until he, too, had recognized it for what it was. This thing between them. This feeling dwelling in his heart at all hours of the day, lingering on his lips before he would even fully wake in the morning, accompanying him long into the evening as the world grew dark and quiet. Too quiet.

It was love.

He recognized steps behind him on the wooden floorboards, rapid at first, then hesitant. Sucking in a deep breath, Hank turned around, and there he was, like it was only just yesterday, those brown eyes flickering between Hank’s, blinking a few times.

“Hank?” The brown was swimming now, like the muddy-brown river, specks of golden peeking through, on its solitary endless quest.

“Hey kid,” Hank offered lamely, but what did you say when you were finally beholding the one thing dearest to you in life? The one thing that you couldn’t— wouldn’t, goddammit! —live without for even a fraction of another second. The moths fluttered a few times, restless, ambiguous. For a split second it looked like Finn was going to take off and leap into his arms, and Hank ached with the phantom feel of his body connecting with Finn’s as it remembered how it felt. Then the moths settled, a shadow of wariness crossing Finn’s beautiful face as he took a careful step towards Hank.

“You’re here,” Finn whispered, puffs of white dancing towards Hank until they dissolved right in front of him.

“I am.” He shrugged. “How ya been, kid?” Shit. Finn chuckled, barely audible above the rush from the ocean.

“I’ve been okay, I guess.” He started worrying his bottom lip in that telltale way that told Hank that Finn was disappearing inside his own head. Thoughts trying to convince him that Hank couldn’t possibly be here for him. “What brings you to Oregon?” Finn continued, his voice flat, the protective shield slowly coming up, but he was going to be damned if this was going to end before he’d at least spoken his mind. Pulling off his gloves, discarding them on a bench to his right, he reached for Finn’s hand, sighing with relief when he didn’t pull away but accepted it in his. As their fingers connected, Finn’s so smooth and warm that a small whimper left his lips, and Hank wanted nothing more than to swallow it up.

“Hank?” Squeezing Finn’s fingers, he braced himself, hoping his words didn’t fail him now. Not now.

“Well, you see, I got to thinkin’ the other day.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” Finn smiled teasingly, his eyes coasting across Hank’s face, fine lines crinkling around his eyes. Shit, Hank loved when Finn’s smiles reached all the way to his eyes. He would just gobble them up like sugary treats.

“Right,” Hank chuckled quietly.

“What were you thinking?” Finn asked, his gaze downcast like their worn boots were the most interesting spectacle ever.

“Well, I’ve never really been out and about much. Only on a few trips with Eugene here and there. I figured it was about time to see more of the country. Someone told me to come here.” His voice grew raspy, recalling Finn’s modest plea in the letter. ‘ Please, Hank. When you’re ready.’ He swallowed down the nerves, then once more to give himself pause to think of what to say next. “I heard they have a fine air and space museum in Eugene.” The words came easier than he’d expected, and Finn looked surprised, too, as he finally looked up.

“Yeah? Where did you hear that?”

“A friend told me.”

“A friend, huh?” Finn asked nonchalantly, although that small glimmer of hope in his eyes gave him away.

“Yeah, well, maybe more than a friend,” Hank admitted. “Look, kid—”

“Well, you’re in luck, then,” Finn blurted. “You caught me just in time.” Just in time. A sour taste rose in Hank’s mouth, Finn’s words unexpected, spoken with such casualness.

“What do you mean?” he forced out, unsure if he wanted to know what Finn meant.

“If you’d come after New Year’s, you’d have to visit the museum by yourself.” They were standing so close, the toes of their boots nearly touching, their breaths intermingling in the space between them.

“Oh,” Hank murmured. “You goin’ someplace?” Finn nodded as he reached out his other hand, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to run it through Hank’s beard. Then he stopped mid-movement, his fist clenched awkwardly between them.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “I’ve gotten a job out of state.”

“Right.” Say something, you idiot , his heart screamed at him. Tell him why you’ve come. Tell him that each breath is a goddamn Sisyphean task without him. But instead, he just asked, “When are you leaving, then?”

“January second, probably,” Finn spoke, and it was the strangest thing because his eyes were smiling now, a strange expression curling around his lips, the frail afternoon light hitting his scar, making it light up like silver. “Just gotta wrap up a few loose ends around here, then I’m off.” Off . Just like that. His heart was running a mile a minute, pounding away frantically in his head, rushing like a wild river in his ears. Suddenly, he just felt this all-consuming tiredness pull at him, and if it wasn’t for Finn’s beloved face swimming before his eyes, he might’ve fallen over.

“Hank?” Finn took a step closer, and now they were almost touching, their bellies almost rubbing together. “Aren’t you gonna ask me where I’m going, Hank?” Shit.

“Doesn’t matter,” he managed to say. “You’re goin’, aren’t ya?”

“Ask me, Hank. Ask me where I’m going.” There was a pleading edge to Finn’s voice, as he squeezed Hank’s fingers impossibly tight.

“Where’re you goin’, Finn?” he whispered with the last effort he could muster.

“Whitney.” Out of all the places that Finn could’ve mentioned, Whitney would’ve been the last, well, almost last, to come to mind. He might as well have said the Moon.

“Whitney?” Hank repeated, his tongue feeling heavy and alien in his mouth.

“Yes.”

“As in Whitney, Nebraska?” And there it was again, that goddamn flicker of hope in his heart.

“Yes.”

“What’s in Whitney?”

“Not much,” Finn chuckled, and the stupid hope grew with every rise and dip in his voice. “But they have an opening at the outpatient center in town. And they let me do the interview remotely. But you see, that’s not even the best part.”

“No?”

“No. Not even close.” Finn’s eyes swam over, two rebellious tears dropping from the brown pools, making their way like rivers down his cheeks. “Ask me about the best part, please Hank.”

“ What’s the best part, Finn?”

“The best part is that it’s close to home.”

Unable to contain himself, Hank reached out and placed his palm against Finn’s scruffy chin. “Don’t cry, Finn,” he begged. “Home?”

“Yeah. Home,” Finn whispered, leaning his entire weight against Hank’s palm. “ Aren’t you gonna ask me where home is, Hank?” Pulling him flush against him, Hank closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against Finn’s. He didn’t have to ask. He already knew where home was. And still, he found himself asking, just to indulge this man that he loved so much.

“Where’s home, Finn? Tell me.”

“Home’s wherever my best friend is,” Finn breathed against his lips. “It’s wherever you are, Hank.” He brushed his lips lightly back and forth along Hank’s as he burrowed further into Hank’s palm.

“I’m your best friend?” Hank spoke, breathing in the sweetness that was Finn.

“The one and only.”

“Is that so?” Hank chuckled, finally succumbing to that overwhelming urge to pull Finn’s body flush against him.

“Damn straight,” Finn moaned into his mouth, the words reverberating through Hank’s body, their need battling with restraint in a fight that could only ever have one outcome.

“Jesus, kid, now you sound like a regular Nebraskan.” Hank buried his face below Finn’s ear, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin and the fine, downy hairs rising to meet him.

“Well… Ahhh, fuck,” Finn moaned, his hips thrusting forward to meet Hank’s, his pale neck bared to Hank. “I better start sounding like one if I’m gonna shack up with one.” Hank nodded furiously against his neck as he parted his lips and sucked Finn’s earlobe into his mouth, humming around it.

“Hmmm. I guess so,” he murmured around Finn’s earlobe.

“Shit, Hank,” Finn cursed, arching his back to meet him, his hardness drilling into Hank’s thigh. Good thing the closest neighbors were further down the road, the Kennedy home hidden behind some dunes. Although, he couldn’t be sure that Finn’s family wasn’t spying on them right this second. Placing a hand against Finn’s belly, he pushed carefully, putting some much-needed space between them. A dissatisfied whine fell from Finn’s lips as he chased Hank’s body like a heat-seeking missile. Hank’s own breath came out in clipped pants, his dick complaining, reminding him it had been days—weeks—since he’d been buried inside Finn. Shaking himself, he tried to focus on something that wouldn’t add more fuel to the fire.

“I figure you’ll need a ride then? After New Year’s.” Hank tried to adjust himself discreetly, his voice close to spilling over into full-on panting.

“I’d love one,” Finn smirked, a sedated expression on his face, his voice heavy with need. “But are you done seeing the world?”

“Yeah,” Hank nodded, burying both of his hands in Finn’s long hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to look into his eyes. “It wasn’t so much the world I was lookin’ for. I was just… I was just gettin’ tired of sittin’ around missin’ ya.” Finn’s eyes were blown wide, the small scattering of freckles above his brow playing peekaboo behind a wayward strand of straw-blond hair.

“You missed me?” he whimpered needily, tears still clinging to his eyelashes.

“I did. Very much. But it ain’t just that, you see. I realized somethin’ the other day. Somethin’ else.”

“What?”

“That I need you.”

“I could’ve told you that from the very beginning, babe,” Finn teased.

“ Babe ?” Hank failed to hold back a deep laugh that originated all the way from his belly.

“Yeah,” Finn shrugged.

“Ain’t I a little old to be a babe ?” Hank groaned.

“Oh, right, but I’m not too old to be a kid. I see.” And then, just at the cusp of the I see , the carefree tone to Finn’s voice transformed into something deeper, something vulnerable. The expression of utter surrender on Finn’s face mirrored Hank’s own as he continued, “I need you too, Hank. Always have. Always will.” Then he buried his face against Hank’s chest, his slender fingers grabbing onto Hank’s lambskin coat. “You smell so good, Hank. Like the woods and the earth and… just like everything that’s good and strong and safe.” Wrapping his arms around Finn’s shoulders, Hank drew him close against him, the initial need that had inhabited his body moments ago now replaced by a deeper feeling of contentment. And relief.

Resting the left side of his face against Hank’s heart, Finn sighed, his body growing heavy against Hank’s.

“This thing between us. The way it just… happened. You ever wonder what it is?” Hank spoke, pressing a kiss against the crown of Finn’s head.

“I have,” Finn nodded. “But I’m not sure that I know exactly. I just felt drawn to you the moment I met you. And then safe. It’s like, no matter what I need, you always seem to know exactly what it is. Even though I might not always understand it myself or be able to ask for it, you still know what I need.” Finn paused, turning his face, his eyes meeting Hank’s. “It’s like sometimes I just need a friend,” he blinked, mischief suddenly taking over. “Then other times I need a Daddy . Some days I just need someone to talk me out of my head. But it’s always going to be you , Hank. I don’t care what it is or what it’s called. I just need you .” He paused briefly, each of his words resonating with the same need inside Hank. “The first time you kissed me, Hank, it felt like a motherfucking kick to the balls and whiplash in the neck.”

“That doesn’t sound nice,” Hank chuckled.

“It wasn’t,” Finn admitted. “But it was necessary.”

“Yeah?” It had felt like that, hadn’t it? Exactly like that.

“Yeah.”

“I think I needed it, too, kid,” Hank confessed. “More than anythin’.”

“You did,” Finn agreed.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

“You’re probably gonna regret this, sweetheart. I’m a grumpy old man set in his ways.”

“So you keep saying, but you’re really not that grumpy, Hank.” Finn reached up and linked his arms around Hank’s neck.

“But I’m old,” he winced.

“I prefer mature.” Finn tilted his head, brown eyes coasting across his face. “It has a more sophisticated ring to it.” Sucking his bottom lip playfully into his mouth, he nodded his head towards the ocean. “C’mon, old man. Before it gets too dark.”

“What about—” Hank nodded at the house.

“Oh, them. Yeah, they’re probably done spying on us by now, so let’s just go for a walk. Give them some time to regroup and come up with a game plan,” Finn laughed as he pulled Hank along with him toward the steps.

“Game plan?”

“Yeah, my parents have probably done the math by now, realizing that their only son has had sex with a guy close to their age.” He stuck out his tongue teasingly, as he leapt down the stairs, Hank trying to keep up.

“Jesus, kid.”

“Yeah, probably don’t call me that around them,” Finn panted, out of breath, the harsh wind throwing them both left and right as they neared the ocean. Grabbing Hank’s hand, tangling their fingers together, he smiled, cheeks bright red, the wind coaxing tears from his eyes. “No good boys either, until we’re alone. You know how I get when you call me that.” That little shit. As if he would ever call Finn that anywhere in public.

They ran next to each other across the dunes, Hank’s side stinging, his lungs burning. As they reached the top, they stood next to each other, taking in the violently beautiful spectacle that the ocean seemed to be putting on just for them.

“So, you don’t want my heart, huh?” Hank yelled over the roar from the ocean, the air tinged heavily with sand and salt.

“What?” A puzzled frown appeared between Finn’s brows, grains of sand already sticking to his hair.

“The letter,” Hank shrugged.

“Oh,” Finn was back to smiling. “Meh, it’s just a muscle anyway… C’mon, this way, or we’ll blow away.” Finn nodded at a row of sheds that were probably used by the local fishermen but seemed abandoned for the season. Running towards them, the wind beating against their faces, sand grains hitting them like tiny needles, Hank felt more present than he’d been in the longest time. And he felt something inside shifting, as if that final lump of sadness dissolved, making room for something new. Something lighter.

As they reached the first shed, both leaning their backs against the wooden side, panting, they were finally out of the wind. Finn shook his head, sand stuck to the tears in his lashes.

“Okay,” Hank wheezed, his throat impossibly dry, but he would be damned if that was going to keep him from uttering the words going on repeat in his head. “So, I’m just gonna put it out there in case you change your mind.”

“What?” Finn panted too, coughing, cheeks blazing red. He buried his chin and nose inside the red scarf—Hank’s scarf—shivering despite his thick parka.

“That if you ever want it, it’s yours, too. My heart.” For the briefest moment, he saw the answer reflected across Finn’s beautiful face. Loud and clear. Screaming at him like a greedy little beast. I want it! Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again.

“Okay. Good to know.” Finn tipped his chin in defiance, his eyes still dark with want. “I’ll think about it…” He pursed his lips, before sticking out his tongue, leaping towards the ocean. “C’mon, Daddyyyy,” he yelled like the wild, beautiful creature that he was. “Last one to the ocean is a—” the last of his sentence was swallowed by the wind, but Hank could very well imagine what it was from Finn’s facial expression alone. Bracing himself for the harsh wind, Hank followed behind Finn at a more moderate pace.

It took very little effort to teach a child to distrust the world and years upon years to break down those defensive walls. But it didn’t matter. Hank had the rest of his life to work on that. He was a patient man. So, what if Finn’s language was different at times? Hank’s was, too. Didn’t mean they didn’t understand each other.

Because it was real, wasn’t it? What Finn gave him, and what he was pretty sure no one else could ever give him, was borne out of a pure heart and a beautiful soul. What he could give Finn back in return was real, too. And honest. No strings. He’d had love once before. Who was to say he couldn’t have it again? That what he felt for Finn couldn’t co-exist with this newfound fondness he’d felt lately whenever he thought of Eugene. Who was to say that it wasn’t love, too, what he felt for Finn? It was different, but not less. It was something in its own right. And if Finn the Hun, his brave, beautiful boy, wanted him— him , Hank—then he was all for it. All fucking for it.