36. THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SIX
The analog clock on Finn’s bedside table reads six forty-seven, which means I probably didn’t get all that much sleep. He’s not awake yet, but I’ve been up for the past half hour just listening to his soft snores.
The man is draped across my chest, drooling like a tiny little kitten instead of the grown adult he is. My hand has been idly stroking the back of his head, tired eyes staring up at all the photos he took of me.
Maybe that’s why it's so hard to sleep in his room. Every inch of it is a reminder of who he really is and what he’s really capable of.
“Mmh…” he groans, nestling against me some more. “Morning…”
“Hi.” My voice comes out in a rasp. “Sleep well?”
Finn smiles. “I always sleep well when you’re with me.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You’re sweet.”
Green sheets rustle as he sits up and kicks them off of himself. When I catch a glimpse of the scars from before, my body tenses for a beat. It’s hard to get used to seeing your own name carved into somebody else’s flesh, let alone sleeping with the person who did it.
Sometimes I hope I’ll wake up and this will all have been some horrible dream. I’ll call Haley and tell her all about it with yearning in my voice, before getting into my car and driving up to the far away gas station to see the cute cashier who happens to be my friend.
“Do you want breakfast? I can make you your favorite.” Finn offers hopefully, petting my head and staring down at me. His hair is unwashed and messy, and his face is littered with acne scars. Yet he’s the cutest man I’ve ever seen. He's horrible. Just horrible.
“Sure,” I sit up with him. “Take me to the counter?”
“Of course. C-Can’t go anywhere without my bunny.”
Strong arms wrap around me, my taller body falling into his as he scoops me up with ease. I never once imagined he’d been this strong. It’s the type of strength that comes from just living life, not trained at the gym for vanity.
Finn’s heart is beating fast, graceless steps bringing us to the kitchen. The spot on the counter he sets me down at has basically become my spot, as weird and stupid as that sounds.
It’s fun to watch him cook. I always loved watching food shows and stuff on TV, and Finn is a surprisingly talented chef.
I like how happy he is when he cooks, too.
Did he make food a lot when he was growing up?
Whatever the reason, it’s nice to see him being more like himself—or at least the version of him that I like.
Yawning, I tilt my head back and watch as Finn begins grabbing ingredients out of the fridge. He sets them down next to me, standing in between my legs and kissing me softly.
“How do your legs feel? Is it time for new bandages?”
We both know that my legs are beyond saving at this point. Thinking about it is a moot point, because if I start I won’t stop and it’ll spiral out of control. I know how gross it is of me to look past it all, but I don’t have another choice.
He said he was sorry.
“Maybe later,” I mumble and let my head fall onto his chest. “Are you making bacon?”
“Do you want bacon?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m making bacon.”
Finn ruffles my hair, standing on his tip toes to do so, before returning to the stove and beginning to actually cook. The air takes on the scent of fried food and grease, and I’m transported back to the time we searched for Chalupa.
I really do miss that stupid cat.
When we sit down at the table he drags my chair over next to his, but I only stay that way for a minute before he gets antsy and pulls me onto his lap instead. Thick arms wrap around me, hugging me all snug while I try to eat a forkful of eggs.
“Do you wanna come sit out back with me? I know there’s still some snow and stuff, but… i-it’s sunny…” Finn’s face doesn’t move from being pressed into my back. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t want you to get b-bored of being here all the time.”
“We could always go do something—”
“No we can’t.” His voice darkens. “You know that we can’t. P-People would ask questions… y-you’re a missing person, Duncan.”
Glancing down at my lap, no response I can think up seems right. “I know. I just… We’re really never going to get to do normal stuff, are we?”
“This is normal,” he says while pulling back and spinning me around. “It’s our normal.”
Before I can protest he pulls me in for a kiss, that thick tongue of his clumsily sliding against mine. Our teeth clatter together but he doesn’t even react, opting to instead take all that my mouth has to offer.
When he pulls away I can only stare at him with parted lips, and I swear that my heart skips a beat. It’s a fleeting feeling, but I can’t ignore it. My expression must’ve been too obvious, since Finn is smirking.
“You like kissing me.” It’s not a question. “You like me…” the smirk turns into something brighter. “Y-You really like me…?”
“I do like you.” The truth sounds the same as the lie. “You aren’t… I-I know you aren’t a bad guy. You’re just…”
Finn’s lips tighten, every drop of warmth sucked out of his face as if it was never there to begin with. “I’m just what?”
“Scared.”
Blinking, he doesn’t have an outward reaction at first. Did I make things worse? Panic begins to rise before he lets his head fall on my chest. The yellow light of his kitchen flickers overhead, and the world feels as though we’re the last two souls left.
“Of course I’m scared,” Finn says in such a heartbreakingly quiet voice. “You’re the best thing in my e-entire life… Nobody… No one has ever cared. Not at all. But you cared when you didn’t even know me…”
He takes a deep breath. “Then you started pulling away. H-How could you pull away? Didn’t you see how much I n-needed you?”
“I needed space,” I counter as gently as I can. “Being without my family has been hard. Everything has been hard, and most nights I went to bed wanting to fucking kill myself.”
My anger begins to rise again, but it dies out before I can really do something about it. Of course what takes over is a sadness far too deep for my comprehension. “It was just… my parents. They just… god. If you heard what they said to me, y-you’d understand.”
Somehow he manages to cling even harder, shaking and sniffling in my arms. “I didn’t know. I… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for everything… I-I’ve made a big freaking mess…”
He has. He really has. But luckily enough for him I’ve always had a penchant for cleaning messes up. My parents. My siblings. My friends. There was never a mess I couldn’t fix—or so I thought. Look at what happened. Look at the mess that led me to him. I can’t fix shit.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.