Pink Dolphin - Fionn Whitehead Fan Fiction (13500 words)
Everything is red. The sun looks bigger than it normally does, and it always sets the sky on fire. Dark shadows swim into unknown corners and the ocean is always pink, but Fionn canât go home. Not until the plan falls into place. Fionn is not leaving this surreal pink film set until heâs honest with Alana, the mysterious artist girl with pale skin and hair like a flame. And Harry is there to make sure neither of his friends waste any more time pretending they arenât in love.
13000+ words of pining, pet names, conceptual art and true friendship. Meet Me In The Hallway, a big plot twist, some long smut scenes*, and a love of nature. Harry is married to Louis, heâs acting with Fionn in an art film that his best friend Alana wrote and throughout the nervous giggles, there is a happy ending for everyone.
I put a stupid amount of time and effort into writing this so I no longer have any idea if itâs wonderful or terrible, and Iâm pretty embarrassed about it, but please, please do read (It definitely gets sooo much better as it goes, I think Chapter 2 is my favourite) Â This will hopefully be on Archive of our Own soon!Â
Also, a WARNING to any of my friends reading this, parts of this are pretty explicit, sorry!!! Xx
 âSheâs ridiculous!â
The words hiss from Fionns mouth before he realises heâs let them out. His eyes squint, following the droplets of water travelling down Alanaâs body, as if her white skin is too bright for him. Her arms hang around Pollyâs waist, their fingers linked loosely. They look like a renaissance mother and child. Â
âShe doesnât like LA, you know?â A deep voice speaks and startles Fionn. He blinks himself back into consciousness and looks down to the left of him. Harry peers up at him with a smug smile, he looks more playful than normal. He knows.
âShe doesnât really like LA.â Harry repeats, following Fionnâs line of vision to the girl sitting across from them. The two boys are lying together lazily by the side of the outdoor pool, warm evening air sitting heavily above them, and the orange sun falling into the sea. Harryâs been anticipating this conversation for a while. A long while.
âNo?â Fionn leans back. The weird pink cocktails reveal the interest in his face a lot more than he may allow if he were slightly more sober. Harry sits up, wrapping a sheer floral blouse round the butterfly tattooed on his chest. Heâs prepared for this, and the time is now.
âAlanaâs been here for months, Fionn, even before starting this weird film project with us. Yeah, she got that studio deal here, and she made good friends through work âŠsheâs been preparing for this film a lot, sheâs been writing and drawing as usual, but she can do all of that stuff at home just as easily. The weather is much nicer here, for sure. She likes the landscape and the wildlife but nobody, nobody loves Newcastle as much as Alana.â
Fionn accepts that this speech is going somewhere.
âHer mumâs there, up north. Her closest friends are there. And itâs not just that, Fi, if sheâs not been here then sheâs been in London. And the exact same goes for there too. She likes it of course, sheâs always got plenty to do, but itâs just not her home.â Harry says. âAnd this has been going on for over a year.â
Harry looks at his friend and realises he still needs to be more obvious. âAlana is only in LA or London when you are in LA or London.â
Fionn pushes air from his nose in an almost violent sigh. He knew something was coming. Something was going to happen on this film set. Something beyond his control. Something more real than he could ignore. Not that he was even sure he wanted to ignore it anymore.
He lays further back on the strange pink sun lounger heâs melted himself onto, and he cradles his head theatrically. He absolutely knew it.
There was something about the light in Alanaâs eyes which shone brighter when looking into his. There was something about the way sun fell on her red hair which made it glow golden, like leaves in autumn, like a colour Fionn had never seen before, and can now only associate with her. There was something about the way her presence in a room made itself known to Fionn before he even reached the doorway. There was a tenderness in Alanaâs voice that sounded more intimate when she spoke to him. As if every word were plucked from a letter sheâd written that no one else were allowed to read, and that, honestly, Fionn didnât want anyone else to read.
He was just terrified to admit it.
Harryâs hand gently holds Fionnâs knee. He can feel Harryâs silver rings cold against his skin. âI know her Fionn. Sheâs my best friend, and has been for years.â He gives Fionnâs knee a little squeeze. âI know how she loves.â
Harry slides his thumb over Fionnâs skin once more then takes his hand away. âAlanaâs more vulnerable and shy than youâd think, but when sheâs certain on something, sheâs certain.â He continues. âSheâs busy, her mind never stops, not for a second. Sheâs so impatient. But here she is, a year after meeting you⊠still there. Right fucking, there!â Harry nods his head to the other side of the pool for more affect, his brown hair swishing into his eyes, and Fionn allows himself to see her.
His green eyes lift to gaze through the glasses pushed up on his nose. He sees her bright floral dress hanging loose, hair clipped into a curl behind her ear, and a camera in her hands. Alana films her friends watching the peacock butterflies fly around lilac buddleia flowers with a smile on her face. Always a smile on her face.
âI donât want her waiting forever Fionn, and I donât think you do either.â
Fionn meets Harryâs eyes and smiles. Bless him. Bless him for doing this. He doesnât deserve someone like Harry, or someone like Alana. âSheâs so nice to everyone, Harry. I love the way that her eyebrows curve into the top of her nose. I love how she always asks questions, and how sheâs always excited by everything⊠as if itâs all new. Iâm just⊠fuck. Iâm just a bit scared.â Fionn confesses. âQuite a lot scared.â
âThatâs ok, Fionn. So is she. Sheâs terrified! And it is scary.â Harry says this calmly with all the wisdom of an old woman, but there is a glint of excitement in his eye. He loves drama. But Harry knows exactly what heâs talking about. âYou donât think I was scared when I told Louis how I felt about him when I was just 16? But look now, almost 8 years later, weâre married and he basically re-proposes to me again every month.â
The two of them laugh and Fionn realises he might be being over dramatic. Fionn is far from unlovable, he isnât hopeless, and he isnât even sure why or when he started to think he might have been. He isnât too busy. Maybe he isnât even too shy. Heâs actually completely fine, and he does deserve this. He does want this. A lot.
Alana isnât some ethereal princess or the most beautiful person in the world. Sheâs quite odd. Her face is both angular and soft at the same time. Pale but often with blushing cheeks. Thick eyebrows and thin hair. A bit funny looking if you really think about it, but just lovely. Pretty in the way which art is pretty. But sheâs just another human. An incredibly lovely one, yes, but another human nonetheless, and Fionn is going to be honest with her, in whichever way he has to be.
âThank you, Harry. Thank you so much for everything. Youâre an absolute sweetheart and Iâm very grateful for you.â Fionn grins and squeezes Harryâs chin, pressing into his dimples.
âAnytime, Finley, you handsome and wonderful man!â He grins back. âCount yourself lucky that Iâm letting you both go, but Iâll be keeping watch.â He warns. âYou two will be wonderful. Please just go for it, love.â
The film set theyâre all working on is odd, of course it is though. The whole project is bizarre, but in the most excellent way. The buzz transcends the cast and crew, it seems that everyone is excited about this movie. Alana and her friend Polly had the idea. They shared a studio together in Newcastle and Alana had performed in several of Pollyâs videos before. They describe this project as a film which isnât so much a film, but more so a film about the idea of a film. And this idea for the film is discussed and questioned by the cast as it morphs and grows, but all in a poetic and romantic way. The owner of the idea narrates the film and explains which aspects are clear and which are undecided. The focus is on the atmosphere and the visuals more than the structure. A feeling more than a story.
Everyone involved received a pink envelope with a hand written letter inside, inviting them to collaborate in whichever way they wanted. The film is essentially an art piece and the actors are essentially performers. The package also included postcards of paintings which inspired the set, mainly David Hockneyâs brightly coloured swimming pools, as well as notes and sketches from Alana and Polly themselves, referencing the ideas which fuelled their project, and offering some quotes from the narration.
âMaybe sharing your thoughts is more revealing than sharing the work which the thoughts made. âŠ.One loose, unresolved, foetal, dreamlike thought can inspire concrete ideas, or maybe just an idea can be enough in itself.â
âArt allows you to somehow make real the thoughts which would otherwise only exist as imagination.â
Initially Fionn found it a little hard to follow. Very arty. Maybe even a bit âInceptionâ. But there was something new about it, something honest and very compelling. Harry was all over it of course, and Fionn always likes a challenge. Heâd started off in the theatre, doing plays about social media and queer rights. He did a TV show about a troubled boy with telekinetic abilities and then a film about a young war soldier trying to get home. Thatâs how heâd met Harry, through whom heâd then met Alana.
After months of them purposefully and in-purposefully bumping into each other in London and ultimately becoming somewhat close friends, neither Fionn nor Alana fully entered or fully left the otherâs lives.
They both intend to fix that now.
There is a definite colour scheme to the film set. Very warm and soft, but also quite sinister. All the furniture is clothed in fluffy fabrics of a deep orange, there is hot pink neon tube lighting drawing a continuous line over every corner, itâs always dark inside and most of the walls are painted in a glossy black or rich red. The sun looks bigger than it normally does and it always sets the sky on fire, black and red butterflies dance around the lush shrubs and the yellow flowers which are planted everywhere. The outdoor pool is made of shimmery bright pink tiles and seems to be the epicentre, when filming or not.
Fionn stretches his arms out and floats on his back, the water laps against his sides and briefly puddles in the dip of his chest, then runs down his body and back into the pool. He drops his head back so his dark hair soaks neatly away from his face and flicks out behind his ears.
âHarry said you donât like LA?â Fionn questions Alana and playfully splashes a tiny bit of water over her lap. She is perched on the edge of the pool steps, her legs reaching into soft ripples as she twists them in the water, toes painted with a warm peach colour.
âI do.â She smiles, tucking her legs back up and rolling the hem of her striped trousers back down. âJust not as much as home.â
Fionn leaves the water to re-dress into a checked shirt and jeans. He sits by her side and looks at her. âWhy have you spent so much time here then? Apart from the film, I meanâŠâ
Alana thoughtfully scans over the water, the sunset is sinking into it and making everything a deeper pink. âThe people.â She answers, her eyes smiling cheekily into his.
Surely that wasnât too obvious? She wonders.
Fionnâs face creases into a smirk and Alana giggles. Good. âJust enoughâ she thinks.
âI feel like wherever you are, if you have good friends around you, then youâll be at your happiest.â Alana declares, and Fionn has to agree with her.
âAm I your good friend?â He asks, nudging her in the elbow. Heâs feeling cheeky too, and confident.
âOf course, Fionn!â She answers.
No hesitation. Excellent.
âGreat.â This is going well, he thinks. And he hears her voice again.
âYouâre great. âŠYouâre very cute. Very lovely.â Her cheeks sting a little but sheâs seeing this through.
They both laugh and Fionn pretends to shh her. âOh stop!â He dramatizes. âI think youâreâŠ. I think youâre really wonderful, Alana. Honestly.â
Oh my gosh, he sounds sincere. Keep it together Alana, come on.
âGee, thanks Fionn!!â She jokes and they laugh more than is necessary, for no particular reason, but they feel comfortable. Itâs a nice, light, hopeful feeling. Finally! Something is beginning to happen between them that feels more like âsomethingâ. They move to lie back on a stretch of grass and watch the clouds darken to red. Alana announces coyly âI think youâre as nice as that sunset.â Sheâs joking. âŠmaybe half joking.
Fionn barks a loud laugh which sort of pulses his body forward to hang over his knees, he almost surprises himself, it really wasnât that funny. He looks up to see Alana pulling a mock-disgruntled expression. âExcuse me, Finley, I was being deadly serious, man!â
He chuckles, âI know, thatâs why Iâm laughing.â
They silently thank God that not many people are nearby, because theyâre probably being outrageous. But thatâs alright. âOh, charming!â Her soft Geordie accent thickens slightly.
Fionn canât help but blush at how endearing she is. âThat would have sounded stupid coming from anyone else, but because itâs you, it was very sweet and kind.â He tells her. âThank you, Alana.â
She canât believe theyâre just sitting there talking to each other. Itâs the simplest thing in the world but her body tickles all over. âGood.â She teases him, springing up and jokingly running away. ââŠBecause itâs the last compliment youâre getting, mate!â
She leaves him watching her scamper off, a stupid big grin on both their faces.
Their time spent together is fleeting, Fionn and Alana. But still often. They are both essentially at work. And they both work hard, everybody does. But luckily, because of the personal and creative nature of the project, it was encouraged from the outset that the actors spend all their time together and inhabit the film set as their home, making the whole video more collaborative. The cast is essentially friends of friends, so really, itâs just very social and enjoyable.
Alana and Polly and the rest of the team wanted the character interactions to be real and organic, hence their minimal script, and their emphasis on the actors trusting their instinct and taking more ownership. All the actors and crew started off watching films together which influenced Alana and Pollyâs ideas, so they could get more of a collective understanding of the reference points, and of the style they were aiming for. There was a good week spent living on set discussing The Neon Demon, Submarine, High Rise, The Tree of Life, Amelie, and basically Wes Anderson and Stan Brakhageâs filmographies.
The camera crew are filming almost constantly, to capture the candid human interactions. Most of the film will be made in post-production, not necessarily with fancy editing, just piecing the right clips together once all the footage is there, instead of story boarding it all beforehand. The narration and spoken word will be the main thing, with only a few specific scenes being pre-planned. The film basically makes itself as it exists as a living organism.
The core of the whole piece is a poem Alana wrote. The entire film was imagined from it.
 âI cannot make real the thoughts which I imagine, because an imagined thought is not clear.
The thought came to me like a dream.
Sunken in a foreign sunset,
Words seeping from our tongues like water and they all reflected in our eyes.
I think of you and see starlings murmorating over the sea,
And swallows flying home.
It is important to share a thought before it expires.â
 This one poem is the only concrete scene in the film, everything else is woozy and unclear - like a thought or a dream. The scene is two people by the pool at sunset, talking. Yet there is no script for it. Polly wanted the actors to be free to feel the experience fully and to say what came to them naturally, and whatever they do, sheâll use. The actors for this scene are Fionn and Alana, playing Toby and Isla, and they film it tomorrow.
Them and the whole cast were prepped as much as they could be, and treated with nothing but kindness and inclusiveness by Polly and the team, and they were mostly guided to just enjoy themselves and go with it. As completely unusual and open ended as the brief is, Fionn and everyone else thought it sounded amazing. He knew it would be a pleasure to work with Harry again, and admittedly, Alanaâs allure was as consuming as the atmosphere of the whole film.
Itâs this allure which Fionn is trying his best to ignore as he makes steps back to his room, intent on rehearsing some more ideas for Toby, but then he sees her.
Fionn sees Alana from across the landing by the lift.
He sees her in a way he doesnât feel he should see her.
Heâs stood on the dark red carpet near the corner of the hotel corridor. A window in front of him. Night begins to fill the sky, but a warm orange glow burns from Alanaâs room.
Fionn sees her and he canât move. He should, but he canât.
He must walk away now. What is he doing?
He sees her white skin, all of it. It shines against the dark red silk of the bed sheets.
Itâs erotic. The lighting. The whole film set. Everything. Why do the lights have to be so warm? Why is the colour of everything so sexy? Why do shadows seep into every corner of wherever Alana is not? Why is Fionn thinking of the colour red when his heart begins to beat like bubbling acid, and his breath bleeds fast out of the cracks in his lips, and his chest rises and falls like waves? And he canât move. He cannot move.
Itâs like sheâs a siren and heâs drowning in the Red Sea but her song keeps pulling him back, spluttering.
He shouldnât look. What the fuck is he doing? Itâs wrong. Itâs unprofessional. Itâs disrespectful. This is his friend. His friendâs friend. This is essentially his boss. Itâs wrong. But sheâs there, and itâs hot. Itâs so hot in here. Fionn canât think clearly.
Where is everyone else? Why when night falls, does everyone disappear, and why is it always just him and Alana left?
What the hell is happening? How is he seeing this?
Walk away right now Fionn, stop it. Stop watching her.
But sheâs still doing it. And he canât move.
Sheâs there. Her bed is right next to the window. Why? It doesnât matter. Maybe to feel the breeze rush in through the window in the hot mornings. Good. That makes sense. The morning. Her. In the morning. Waking up beside her. Skin. Warm, beneath the covers. Hot. Pale skin beneath pink silk covers.
It throbs. He feels it. Tight, hot, stiff. There, pressing against him. Hard.
Sheâs doing it by the window. Of course she is, her bedâs there. Fuck.
No. God no, oh God. Fuck.
He rushes nearer the window that heâs watching her from, he stands behind the curtain. Lays his hand over himself.
She breathes out. She presses the side of her face into the hot pink cushion.
For Godâs sake, whatâs wrong with this place? Why is everything dark and pink? What the fuck do they expect to happen?
Donât touch anymore. Just keep your hand there Fionn, breathe out. Walk away, this is wrong.
Oh, fuck no. God. Look at her! Look at her, fuck.
Sheâs⊠Sheâs actually⊠Oh my God he canât believe this.
Her other hand runs up, from her thigh, across her abdomen. He feels it.
Fionn feels her hand across his own abdomen, just below the belly button. He can practically feel his hand on her, sweeping over her skin. Fingertips pressing into her flesh. God. No.
Fionn presses his own hand against his abdomen. He presses his other hand down on himself harder. He sighs out.
Her hand travels up over her stomach, to her breast.
Her face rolls upwards and she presses her head down into the pink pillows, her eyes closed tight.
No. God, no Fionn. Leave now. Fuck.
He sighs out loud and pushes himself away from the window, leaving the dark purple curtain gushing in his wake.
Fionn storms along the corridor. Furious. Strides up to his door and, God. No. Absolutely not.
âLou! Ahh ah âŠoh fuckkkâ
âHarry! Harry ohhhh, yeahâ
âGod! Ah ahh fuck, Harryyyâ
âYes, God! Ahh ah yesssâ
Do not fuck in the room next to me right now, Harry. For the love of God, no!
Fionn hurls his own door open, tripping over his own feet, breathing heavily and shutting it firmly behind him.
He leans against his door, desperately, then he quickly pulls his shirt up over his head, his glasses come off with them and fly onto the floor. Fionn huffs loudly, flustered and cheeks burning. Furious. He storms towards the bathroom, kicking off his shoes on the way and pulling off his burgundy socks. Fucking burgundy, for Godâs sake!
âFuck fuck fuck Harry, God!! Yes!â
Fionn yanks the bathroom light cord down and switches the shower on. While the water heats up he violently undoes his belt and pushes down his pants and trousers with almost laughable urgency.
This is fucking ridiculous.
He grips himself and leans back into the sink edge, his head falling back.
He spreads out pre-cum with a shaking thumb and runs his hand down himself smoothly.
He tugs back up, and sighs.
Fionn steps into the shower, warm water falling on him, he bows his head and pumps himself hard. He puffs out frustrated sighs and moans, almost whimpers.
Veins sting in Fionnâs arm and neck, his eyes screw shut, and the water collecting in his fringe gushes down onto his cock.
Fionn steadyâs himself with one hand fanned out against the shower wall and lifts his head back to breathe out, as if exhaling cigarette smoke.
His arm moving fast and steady, he works himself beneath the water.
One leg is bent slightly, and the water keeps washing over Fionnâs skin. Droplets fly over his thighs with the force that his hand flies up and down.
Low groans escape from Harryâs mouth, muffled through the wall, but still loud.
âHarry, God. YES!â Louisâ voice is audible even over the rush of the shower. âSo good, baby, ah!â
âAh! Ah!â Fionn pants, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. âGod!â
âLouis!!! Ahh! Fuckkkâ
âFuck.â Fuck, Harry, why now?
Why is everyone in this hotel fucking at the same time!??
Why are the walls so thin?
Fionn sees her again, seeping into his vision, Alana with legs stretched out across the bed cover, her hand moving fast. Red light swimming around her.
Her fingers pressed together, and rotating fast, between her legs. Her lips apart.
He could see Alanaâs breath moving inside her body. Fuck.
Harry moans loudly in the next room.
Alanaâs legs drop against the red silk, a breath heaving out of her throat, she trusts up into the air.
Louis pounds hard into Harry and quivers inside him. One hand clutches Harryâs waist and pulls him further back onto his own dick. Louisâ other hand squeezes hot cum out of Harryâs dick. Louis presses his forehead against Harryâs shoulder and blows a hot breath onto his skin. Harry moans, hanging his head, kneeling over the bed.
Fionn thrusts forward desperately into his fist. Sighing loud. His Adamâs apple bobbing as he swallows down his stunted breath. He pictures Alana, touching herself. He remembers Alana touching herself. Sheâs in this building right now, stretched out naked on a red satin bed. Fionn squeezes the end of his dick and shoots thick bouts of cum against the shower wall.
Some streams of cum run down over his thumb. Heâs open mouthed and panting heavily. Fionn holds his hands into the stream of water and shuts his eyes. âFuck.â
He leans his back heavily against the wet pink tiles, Fionn slicks all his hair back smoothly against his head, and breathes out an exhausted sigh. His cheeks are burning pink beneath his freckles, water trickles down his heaving chest. Fionn begins to rub shower gel into his hot skin, shaking his head and breathing out what could be deciphered as a small, pitiful laugh. âWhat the fuck, am I doing here?â
Morning sun brushes over Fionnâs face and buries itself into the folds of his dark orange duvet cover. Itâs early. Too early. Fionn grumbles something into his pillow about mornings and how wrong they are, before distorted memories from the night before absorb into his conscious.
Everything about this place is weird. Nothingâs quite normal, there is a familiarity to everything, a softness, a niceness, but itâs all sort of clouded with something quite impure and unsettling. Appealing at first and then uncertain. Darker. That is the point of the film, he supposes, but still. He feels it.
Fionn decides to forget last night. Or at least try to. Heâs here. Heâs here to work, and then he can leave. Just keep your head down, get the job done, and stay focused. Donât think of Alana. Donât think of her waking up this morning, donât think of her going to sleep last night. Donât think of her saying your name. Donât picture what you saw. Donât think of Harry either. Donât think of Harry and Louis. Donât get sucked in by the allure of this weird, pink, watery environment, or Alanaâs weird allure either. Just donât speak to her.
Several hours later, or maybe several years, Fionn is watching Alana surface from the pool. Midway through the day he decided it would actually be very rude to stop speaking to her. Unprofessional, even. She steps back into her clothes as Fionn playfully throws a towel over her head and greets her with a cheery hello.
She wonât know a thing, Fionn tells himself, just be normal. Be nice.
âHi Dolphin!â she smiles, wriggling her painted toes into the plush of the orange towel. She places herself right by his side and says âSorry to keep making you swim.â
But he just questions âDolphin?â with a confused smile.
Alana deadpans a very serious yes. âYouâre part dolphin now arenât ya?â
Oh God no. Whatâs happening?
This wasnât meant to happen.
âAlana get out of here right now. Did you just call me Dolphin??â
Does Fionn drop his head back in laughter, look down in embarrassment, crease his eyes shut to try and contain any reaction? A mixture of all three? He isnât too sure. He just knows what this means. She isnât referencing this film. Not the significance of the water metaphor in this film. No. This means Alana really did watch all of his and Harryâs Dunkirk interviews. This means she knows what a dork he is. Oh no.
âIt makes absolute sense Fionn.â Sheâs still there. Sheâs still talking to him. Oh Jesus. âYou can swim. Youâre intelligent, and friendly, and cute, and fun. You sort of had a pod of other swimmers, you used to work on a ferry, and youâre a total doll! Fionn⊠dolphin⊠Dolfionn, it fits. Itâs brilliant!â
Fionnâs definitely laughing now. He mockingly rests his fist against his hip and adopts a silly old man voice. âIâm part dolphin now. Ohh, dolphin eyy!â He jokes. âWhy do I say these things on camera? Honestly!â
Through many giggles and words of encouragement and praise from Alana about how much her and the whole world enjoyed every single interview, Fionn realises if he is going to be named Dolphin, surely Alana must meet the same fate. âYou need a nameâ he informs her.
Fuck it. Fuck everything. This whole film is ridiculous, everything thatâs going on here is absurd. Probably some sort of social experiment. Forget what you told yourself this morning, Fionn, youâre here. Sheâs here. Just do it. Life brought you to this surreal pink world for a reason. For her. Right now feels like a good a time as any to reintroduce The Plan⊠if he could call it that.
âHow about deer?â He suggests, with a smug grin.
The pace with which Alanaâs face turns to meet his, suggests that The Plan may actually work.
Heâd better keep going then.
âOr sun? Or maybe sunny? âŠOr yellow?â
âI canât bear this. Heâs adorable.â Alana thinks sheâs not breathing. âHeâs ridiculous!â Her lips feel dry from smiling, like theyâre sticking to her teeth. Her stomach feels heavily pregnant with butterflies and nerves and certainty.
âDeer like in Richmond Park?â She whispers, in awe.
âYes. Deer like in Richmond Park.â
Fionn looks her straight back in the eye and smiles softly. Alanaâs breath faults.
He remembers last June after the BBQ at Harryâs. The two of them walking through summer mist, the smell of damp earth, the rain shining silver on the path, as the sun broke from the clouds. Both unintentionally wearing the same yellow raincoat. Theyâd only just met and their sunlight coloured coats drew them together. The wild deer were reaching up to eat berries from the trees, and the blackbirds sang their final songs of the day. Theyâd walked Fionnâs dog until dusk guided them home. They may have even agreed to describe it as âidyllic.â
âThatâs too much of an honour, Fionn. Deer are too good for anyone.â
Sheâs right though. They are. Theyâre the best creatures on the planet. Her absolute favourite.
âI knew youâd say that, Alana. âŠBut Iâll think of something.â Fionn lays his hand on her shoulder, traces his fingers over the antlers of the deer tattoo inked onto her skin, then slowly slides his palm round to gently cup her neck. âJust you wait and see.â
This time itâs Fionn who runs off, leaving both him and Alana alone with the same stupid smiles.
The moon beams a pool of light into Harryâs hotel room.
Alanaâs been with him for a little while since they finished filming in there. Theyâre lounging on his bed listening to Meet Me In The Hallway crackle on his baby pink vinyl player. Alana basically asked Harry to be involved in the film solely because he wrote that song. Heâs been her best friend since they were children, when their families met on holiday in the Lake District. Harryâs a calming influence on her, and he fits the aesthetic of this film effortlessly, but that song, his whole album in fact, and all the photoshoots that came with it, inspired Alana as much as any painting or movie.
Alana is in some way attempting to create her own visual interpretation of Meet Me In The Hallway. The mistiness. The dreaminess; itâs both haunting and comforting. It sounds sort of like a memory. Neither completely sad nor completely happy, but there is emotion there, and itâs real. Even if you donât know what it means, the honesty is pure. There is a history to it, and a presence. Itâs sort of an in-between state, that for whatever reason, youâve chosen to remain in. There is a neediness to it, but a neediness for something which has only just passed, and will probably come back. And this is basically how Alana wants hers and Pollyâs film. âŠYou can listen to that song in the bath, or in bed, she thinks. Or driving to the beach. Indoors by the fire, rain hitting against the window. Day or night. At home or on holiday. It has the right balance between being obvious and being vague, and itâs just nice. Itâs lovely.
âI wish it lasted three hours, Hâ Alana ponders out loud, proudly finishing the last coat of clear glitter on Harryâs dark grey nails.
âWhat?â He replies. âSex?â
Alana scowls at him and cuddles a fluffy pink cushion to her chest. âNoooo, you little scamp! I meant your beautiful song!â She exclaims and prods him in the dimple. âYouâre too cute, Harry-bo.â She tells him, and itâs true. He could get away with anything. He usually does.
âHeeeeyy! I think youâre cute, Lala!â He grins. âHonestly though, youâre doing very well with this film and Iâm proud of you.â He begins plaiting a small section of her hair, where she dip-dyed it yellow. âWhether you believe me or not, I think youâre pretty you know, for a lady.â They giggle together but she scrunches her face at him, dismissing the compliment. âYouâre kind of like Perrie if she were ginger and in Warpaint instead of Little Mix.â
A wide grin lights Alanaâs face. âWoah, thatâs the absolute dream!!â She imagines. âAre you being extra nice, pet, because you want me to plait your hair too?â
Harry swings his legs clumsily off the bed and begins to put on his gold boots. âNope. Iâm being as nice as I always am, but I do need to meet Polly now for some late filming.â He explains this whilst dressing himself in a leather jacket and applying a touch of dark burgundy lipstick. âHoweverâŠâ he flutters his eyelashes flirtatiously ââŠIâm not the only boy in this corridor who thinks youâre pretty and cute.â
And with that outrageous remark, Harry skips away gleefully into the night, leaving Alana to whimper to herself in a mixture of joy and despair. Having a proper crush on someone is a horrendous ordeal. She decides this is a fact, as she tidies up hers and Harryâs nail polish and straightens the pink bed spread. She wouldnât wish it on anyone.
Her day today was an early one, she and some of the other girls drove along to record the sun rise over a lavender field, and they were mainly shooting offsite there, or during the journey. It was when Rea and Vissy lay together in the meadow that she realised perhaps she was trying to make every fantasy that Tim Walkerâs photographs induced in her as a young girl come true. Either that or her genuine desire as an artist was to make an hour long glorified perfume advert.
Alana throws some pink and black cushions to the floor and sits herself down. Leaning her back against the far wall of Harryâs room, she reflects on her romantic predicament. Maybe itâs not even a predicament. Maybe it is actually hell. Or maybe sheâs just overdramatic and everything is actually falling into place.
Alana never wants to be defined by another person. She doesnât want to obsess over someone, the way that she has been. Certainly not this much, or for this long.
She has a lot to be grateful for in life, and a lot of things which bring her happiness. Alana doesnât need a relationship, she just quite wants one. Someone to say goodnight to, to make a packed lunch for, to push the cuticles down on her nails, to clean her teeth with, to draw circles into their skin after sex, to know the mole on the right hand side of her back, to leave notes for.
A part of her wishes she didnât, but she really really does.
Alanaâs ex broke her heart. It was complex but for years she thought she was safe with him, until he didnât love her anymore. So she went home, she drew, she wrote, she danced, she let her friends and her mum look after her, and she walked as far into the ocean as she needed to rid herself of him. She turned her pain into art, and she got over it.
Alana made a promise after that, to live for herself until the time she met someone she didnât need to question. She doesnât know if that time is now or not, but she does know that when she thinks of that promise, she only thinks of Fionn.
All she ever really does is think of Fionn.
A noise through the wall wakes Alana to the realisation that Harryâs record has long stopped playing, and that she ought to descent to her own room to sleep. Sheâs packing the record into its sleeve and hears the muffled noise continue. These walls are so thin. Theyâre nicely painted, but so thin. Leaning down nearer the wall to clear the cushions, Alana hears a soft sort of grunt or moan.
With her ear pressed against the wall, the thought of sleep is in disregard. She hears it again, a deep, breathy sigh, and any thought of leaving this wall is now in complete disregard.
Completely, universally, categorically, unmistakeable.
Haha! Wonderful. Alana does know she ought to leave though, these are her co-workers and friends, after all. Throwing the cushions back onto the bed, she lets herself wonder who it might be. If this is Harryâs room, then⊠no!
She listens harder and yes, that is a man moaning⊠and yes, it sounds like heâs alone. But⊠that doesnât mean itâs⊠but⊠Harryâs room is the end one, so⊠there isnât really anyone else it could be⊠other than Fionn.
This is unprofessional, Alana. This is disrespectful. I have toâŠ
God, heâs really⊠right now. Right there!
He canât be⊠but he is. Oh God.
Fuck, heâs swearing. Thatâs Fionn!
Thatâs Fionn pressed against the other side of this wallâŠ
Fuck, Alana. Donât make a noise. Stop. Leave now and donât you dare think about listening for a moment longer.
Do not touch yourself. Donât do it.
She means to walk away but the sigh already leaves her mouth.
Alana asking herself why sheâs making noises doesnât make her any quieter, and it doesnât make her leave any faster.
Why is it so hot in here?
Why can I hear him? Like this? Right now?
Why is the wet nestling into my thigh?
Why does the movement behind the wall sound like its right behind her?
Fionn hits his fist against the wall.
Alana moans. She doesnât mean too. Fionn doesnât mean too. Itâs just so hot in there, and all the lightbulbs are red, and everything feels wet, and the air is thick, and the walls are pink and theyâre so, so thin, and thereâs only three more days left there on set, and Fionn groans louder just to be sure that heâs wrong.
There is no girl on the other side of the wall.
He just wants there to be.
Alanaâs hands donât mean to travel up her thigh and lift her dress.
Alanaâs voice doesnât mean to call out when she holds herself against the wall and grinds into her hand.
She doesnât mean to at all.
She wants to leave, but, well⊠no, she wants to stay.
What she wants is to tear down this wall that sheâs pressed against, but she canât do that.
All she can seem to do is reach her hand beneath her underwear, and feel the wet wrap round her skin, and drag her fingers up hard, and breathe out a loud sigh.
Fionn slams his hand against the wall, and grips himself tighter and bites down hard on his lip.
What the fuck is wrong with this building?
Why are the walls so thin?
Why does everyone fuck at the same time?
How the hell is this happening? Again??
How do two people find themselves fucking against each other in a weird pink and orange hotel with an entire wall of old bricks and missed opportunities and unspoken words between them?
Fionn doesnât press his mouth against the wall and breathe out Alanaâs name deeply through his lips.
He surely did not just do that.
âŠBut if he hadnât⊠why would the girl behind the wall gasp like that?
Why would she moan so loudly in response?
What she actually means is to leave right now but instead Alana flings her body around desperately, her forehead meeting the wall, she moves her finger tips in tiny circles, pounding them hard into her clit.
There can be no going back now, itâs already gone this far.
Fionn has nothing to lose. Or maybe he has everything to lose. Or maybe he doesnât care.
He thrusts so hard into his hand, his dick is inches away from grinding against the wall that his hand holds him against.
âAh! Alanaa⊠fuck!â
He just said her fucking name!
âAh! A...lana âŠmmm yess!â
Fionn has literally just fucked himself against a wall, loudly moaning Alanaâs name.
She grasps her hand against the other side of the same wall, to pull at nothing, her body flinches and jumps, she gasps for air and groans out.
Thereâs no point in being quiet now.
She means to say âfuckâ but it sort of sounds like âFionnâ.
He speaks to her from the other side. This is it.
âFionn! Fionn! Ah, fucking God!!â
This cannot be happening.
Theyâre fucking each other and they canât even see it or feel it.
Alanaâs so close. Her fingers are slipping, sheâs so wet. She throbs and pants, breathless and so close.
Fionnâs voice speaks to her through the wall. It sounds calm, deep. Firm, and definite.
Alana breathes in sharply with a sudden moan. âFuck!! Fuuuuck!â
Her head slowly stretches back to hang, facing the ceiling, as she feels the breath escaping her lungs, leaving her mouth in a soft sigh of his name. She cums with two fingers pressed hard against her clit, her hips thrusting forward in short, intense jolts. Her moan squeaks and she sighs heavily, breathing out a clear âFiiiionnâ
The two of them stand in the same position, their foreheads resting against the same spot on separate sides of the same wall.
They breathe in and out deeply as their heart rates regulate.
Fionn and Alana shakily tug their underwear back on and briefly let their eyes close.
After a little while of quiet, Alana asks âShould I say sorry?â
She doesnât know neighbour sex etiquette, but surely thatâs the polite thing to say when you masturbate against a wall with someone uninvited.
âNoâ Fionn laughs. âYou really donât need to say sorry. Not at allâ
âDo I need to say sorry?â He asks, suddenly sounding concerned. He rests his palm out against his side of the wall.
âNo, Fionn. Never.â Alana sits back on the floor, and rests her head back. âNot for anything.â
She hears another mumbled laugh. âGood, because that was fun!â
Alana chuckles to herself and calls back. âYouâre amazing Fionn, really.â
âWait until there isnât a wall between us!â He knocks on it twice, leans back against it and laughs.
âSee you tomorrow, darling.â Alana says, standing up and neatening her dress. âIâd better go because this probably isnât really ok.â She laughs sort of nervously and sweeps her fringe out of her eyes.
âBye, deer.â Fionn smiles and pulls his t-shirt back on. âGoodnight, Alanaâ
âGoodnightâ She says, and kisses her side of the wall. âSweet dreams, Dolfionn.â
Most of the visual content had been shot, there werenât too many days left at all now. Harry and everyone else had basically done their bit. Everyone stayed from start to finish though, to boost morale and maintain the team effort, and because they were all still enjoying themselves. A lot of the bodies on set were simply required as extras now, there to be seen dancing and drifting through the background, in some sort of flamboyant garment. Â
The only major part left was the pool scene with Fionn and Alana, well⊠with Toby and Isla, technically. The only clear thought in the film. Maybe the only clear thought in Fionnâs mind. âŠIf he forgets about another night of questionable masturbation preferences, that is.
But heâs got to do it now. He has to. Time feels like itâs running out, but it also feels like itâs on his side, running towards him. Towards them. Fionn needs to see this through, somehow. Even if heâs cheating a little and doing it through his character, Toby, Fionn is finally going to do this. âŠThe Plan.
Pollyâs voice is calmly reassuring her friends to remember that they know what theyâre doing and that she believes in them. âAnything that feels natural, yeah? Whatever you both do or say, it wonât be wrong.â
Would you say that about last night, Pol? Alana tells her brain to shut up. Get your head in the game, girl! This isnât the time to make up rude jokes in your head.
Polly shuffles back, mostly out of view, and the camera men and women are situated comfortably far back. âWe have all evening, guys, so take your time.â Everything feels as organic as a pink swimming pool surrounded by rhododendron bushes and orange beanbags can feel. âŠand if you ignore the night before.
Fionn lies across his chest with his face held in his hands and peers up at Alana through his clear framed glasses. Heâs wearing a striped shirt beneath an old denim jacket and repeatedly telling himself not to blush. He draws a breath and feels a deep sickness in the pit of his stomach. But heâs a professional actor. He can do this. Well⊠he used to be professional.
Here it goes. The Scene, The Plan, whatever you want to call it.
ââŠI donât think.â
Alana sighs a soft laugh. âGood start, Tobyâ
Toby sits up right, removes his glasses and crosses his legs. Isla watches him fondly.
Oh my gosh, she thinks to herself. Somethingâs definitely happening. Donât think about last night. Because something is about to happen.
She chances a glance, both Isla and Alana.
Another glance. Oh God. Regulate your breathing, remember.
Her eyes travel from the low set of Fionnâs eyebrows, to the verdant green of his iris. Across the freckles on his cheeks, down the sharp line of his nose. The bump of his top lip, the mole on his chin. The prominence of his Adamâs apple, the ring pierced in his ear. Thereâs something about the angles of his face Alana feels sheâll never tire of admiring.
He isnât speaking through a wall anymore.
Listen to him, Isla. Listen to Toby.
âI donât think Iâve ever met anybody that Iâve been so intrigued by.â
Isla takes a breath, feels aware of every vein and pore in her body, keeps her mouth closed, and tells herself to listen.
âYouâre sweet. And lovely, and really cool, and nice. And friendly. But. Thereâs more, like⊠to you, than that.â
Keep it together Fionn, you can do this. Youâre only acting.
So why does this feel so important?
Itâs not just the cameras, he canât look at her. This is scarier than he thought, for both him and his character. Look at the pool, thatâs a good idea.
âI mean, youâre⊠kind of like water. But⊠but, not. But maybe you are. I meanâŠâ
Just go for it, Fi. He hears Harryâs voice in his head, encouraging him.
âYou were born by the sea, Isla. You always say you like the oceanâŠâ
He should not have said that. Thatâs too real. Thatâs Fionn and not Toby. Thatâs Alana and not Isla. Itâs too far from the script. But there is no script. Oh Jesus, heâs going to be fired. Heâll never act again.
âI do like the ocean.â
Toby looks at her, and there are lights reflecting in her eyes.
She did not just do that.
Fionn allows himself to laugh, surely Toby would laugh at that.
But he has more to say. Both Toby and Fionn. She deserves more âŠIsla and Alana.
âI think youâre great, Isla. I donât really know what to say because you make me nervous. But in a nice way. But you make me comfortable, and happy too. And funny, maybe?â
âYouâre really really funny.â She says.
ââŠAnd youâre encouraging, and kind. And your voice is like nothing Iâve heard, and you lookâŠamazing. Just lovely. And you work hard, your mind⊠the way your mind works, and the ideas that are born inside it, astound me. And your eyes are so big and theyâre like, green. But noâŠbrown. Orange? Hazel. Yeah, hazel. A deep, enchanting hazel, and⊠and Iâm saying this because. Erm, because⊠I should have said it sooner.â
âI should have said it last year when we walked in the park after it stopped raining, or when we made that salad together at Alexâs house.â
Sheâll know exactly who he means.
ââŠOr at that gig, or when I saw you buying all those vegetables that time, or when you bumped into me at that cafĂ© with my family, or maybe I should have just turned up at your door and declared it, orâŠâ
Maybe Tobyâs getting carried away, but its Art. Maybe this is what feels organic to him. Maybe this is what Isla wants to hear, maybe it is professional to use a live film set to confess your actual feelings for your co-star, and maybe, maybe he canât stop⊠âOr maybe I should have written you a letter, or even sang you a song, or maybe even pressed orange roses through your letter box, butâŠ
Fionn finally looks at her so that Toby isnât declaring this to his hands and sheâs⊠sheâs not⊠crying? No. Sheâs smiling, but⊠well, kind of crying, and, both. Yes. Sheâs sort of smile crying into her hand, but itâs quite cute. Everything she does is cute.
âFor some weird reason I just felt scared, maybe that I would let you down, Isla, or simply that I liked you too much, or maybe not enough. Or that the timing was wrong, and weâd be too busy, butâŠI just always wanted more. And you were always there. Even when I didnât think you would be. But I didnât want to come to expect you, but you always seemed so happy to see me. You were so friendly and you kept saying nice things to me, and touching my arm. But, I know you do that to everyone...â
Keep going Fionn, itâs for the film. Youâre a great actor.
âMy dog likes you. And my sisters like you, and⊠and Alex said that you like me.â
Thereâs no way back now, just carry on.
âAnd⊠well, yeah. That was nice to hear. Everything said about you is nice to hear. Your voice, especially, is nice to hear. I just⊠I suppose that if there were ever a choice for you to be somewhere or to not be somewhere, and I suppose by âsomewhereâ I mean with me, by my side, Iâd much rather that you were. There. âŠBy my side, I mean. Than not there.â
Fionn takes what feels like his first breath in several hours and what might actually be his first breath in several hours.
âI guess thatâs the best Iâve got. For now, anyway.â He says. âBut maybe I can work on it.â Heâs not speaking to the crew, but still to Alana. Well, no. Itâs Toby speaking to Isla.
He realises all the extras have gone inside, and the moon has replaced the sun, and the butterflies are sleeping and Alana, well⊠Isla, is wearing a loose red cardigan he never saw her put on. And sheâs sitting right in front of him though he never noticed her move forward.
Somehow Alana is holding Fionnâs hand in hers, although he never felt her take it. He realises the cameras are still rolling, of course they are. And the set lights are still shining on the tears in Alanaâs eyes and he wonders where she learnt to be such a good actress that she could just cry like that.
And then he hears her soft, angelic voice though he never saw her open her mouth, and he realises sheâs talking to him.
âOf course I like you, Toby.â Isla breathes out. âI always have.â
Sheâs such a good actress.
âYouâre intelligent and creative. And youâre respectful about everything. The way you talk, about things, itâs so⊠earnest, and important. And I could listen to you, for ages. You speaking⊠youâre voiceâŠI dunno. Youâre just compassionate, and so endearing. And youâre so cool! God, you have no idea, but that just makes it better! Youâre so humble and wonderful and your singing voice, Jesus Christ!! Youâre sort of unbelievable. Youâre sort of everything, but mostly, youâre just so nice, and you work hard. And you care about your family, and youâre really funny!â
Alanaâs sort of exasperated, as if sheâs only realising all of Fionnâs amazing qualities right now but she isnât, sheâs known the whole time sheâs known him. She has to keep going though. Isla does.
âYou make me care about things more. I learn things through you, youâre just great⊠I donât, know⊠youâre really peaceful. It sounds silly but knowing that you exist, in my life, somehow, is just⊠really soothing, and reassuring. Youâre a bit weird, youâve got your quirks and everything, but so do I, and⊠I guess it doesnât really matter.â She says. âI mean look at you! Youâre lovely. So, so lovely. Youâre just⊠real. Thereâs this grace and composure about you that Iâve never witnessed in anyone else.â
Fionn thinks he might see one of the camerawomen moving position and the sound technician move the mic, but all heâs looking at are Alanaâs eyes on him, open wide and shining, staring into his.
Maybe the plan is working?
âToby, I suppose I donât really know all that much about you, but I donât know if I need to, because I know enough to know that I feel something.â
Neither Toby nor Fionn know if the feel of lips blowing air against skin is the breeze or the feeling of two sets of knuckles folded together.
âI kept waiting for it to fizzle out, but it never did. I could never just appreciate you in moderation âŠI wanted more, too.â She speaks. And yes, maybe this is finally happening. And it doesnât matter with whose voice she speaks, Islaâs or her own. âThere were times I was unsure if I wanted you in reality, or if it were safer to enjoy the idea of you, but there was just something...â Alana moves their hands to rest in her lap, her heart crashing in her throat, and she speaks firmly, hopefully in Islaâs voice. âThere is just something about you I never felt ready or able to leave behind. And I still donât want to. Iâve always wanted you, and I still do.â
Fionn thinks he can hear plants rustling beneath a soft wind but he doesnât know because neither he nor Toby would be listening to that. Itâs not important. This is happening. He feels sick, in the most beautiful way.
âFor a while, admittedly, I tried to pretend you were only a concept.â Isla pauses, her eyes switch between focusing on Tobyâs and studying the stitching on his sleeve.
Just keep going, Alana. Itâs for the film.
âI wish I could say I was an actress.â Islaâs free hand climbs Tobyâs forearm and rests at his elbow. ââŠThat there was a reason for all this.â
Oh Jesus. Itâs for the Film, ok?
Fionn lifts his eyes from looking at Alanaâs hand nestled in his, and meets her eyes. âYou just had this grip on me.â Isla says, but it is Alanaâs eyes that are still glossy. ââŠAnd whether either of us intended it to or not, your presence just somehow seeped into everything, and thoughts of you consumed me, but not even in a bad way! Just in a constant and certain way, and I⊠I made art about you.â
Itâs too late now, she thinks. Sheâs said it.
âEverything Iâve done has sort of stemmed from initially thinking about you. All of this, in a weird and kind of unintentional way, itâs sort of all for you.â
Toby scans from Isla across to the plants which frame her; lavender, foxglove, fuscia. His eyes travel into the still water, decorated with petals and confetti and sequins, through all the other orange and lilac and yellow flowers in the far corner, up into the deep red and golden sunset which seeps into the sea, and then back to her. Gems glisten in her ears, glitter lines her eye lids. A peacock butterfly is tattooed onto her shoulder, and a pale pink flower is woven into her hair. She smiles the sweetest smile and her eyes are full of honesty. âYouâre a bee.â He says.
Fionn, Toby, Alana, Isla. It doesnât matter. Their hands separate and they move to align their bodies side by side, legs stretched in front of them. âYou wear yellow, youâre rare, and you like flowers. Everything surrounding you is pretty. You like the outdoors. You sort of fly around everywhere, pollinating everything, Iâm not sure what with⊠but wherever you go, you leave a trace of something hopeful. What you give out is sort of necessary and appreciated. Your words, or art, or smile. I donât know. But, itâs always nice to see you.â He says. âYouâre a bee. âŠThat can be your name. Thatâs what Iâll call you.â
--------------------------
Morning sun rises slowly in a pale sky and shines weakly through the open window.
The eyes watching Alana are interrogative, in a caring way. Unflinching, deep with questions, but safe. Familiar. A silvery grey blue, with lashes painted black fluttering above them.
âMorninâ Poll! Howâre you feeling?â She asks her friend, itâs a genuine question but she anticipates it wonât be answered.
âYesterday, Al.â Pollyâs eyes widen. âYesterday.â
âYesterday was Tuesday.â Alana smiles around a spoonful of fruit salad, investigates a kiwi in her bowl with more interest than needed, and she absolutely doesnât blush. Not at all. It might be sunburn.
âAlana, please!â Polly reaches across the pink breakfast table and holds onto Alanaâs arm.
âI thought I was meant to be the actress round here!â But she canât keep this up, Alana quickly retreats into shy grumbles and unsure whimpers and adolescent giggles and she cradles her knees to her chest. âYesterday was amazing, if not maybe a little odd, I suppose? Quite intense. Very, very beautiful, but intense.â She admits, half smiling, half nervously puckering her lips.
âIt was amazing, Alana! I could barely watch, I felt like I wasnât allowed to be there âŠI couldnât breathe. I think Isaac the lighting guy was crying! We were all sweating afterwards, just looking at each other in silence. No one knew what to say.â Pollyâs a little manic, it was obvious that sheâd been holding this in all night. âActing rarely creates that kind of atmosphere, Alana, I know Fionnâs amazing at his job, obviously, but there was tension. That was super intense!â She decides. âWhat you both said was personal and obviously, undoubtedly, completely real.â
Alana can only respond with a quiet âhmm.â Itâs all out there now, she guesses. Everything. Exposed, honest, said. Everythingâs finally been said. Everything she thought and dreamt and wrote and hoped for all year has finally been saidâŠUnless by some miracle all of the shots are unusable and they have to burn everything and no one will ever know a thing. Or maybe the sound is somehow so poor that they have to just make up some random subtitles, or add loads of effects, or maybe even play the speech backwards like in Twin Peaks. Maybe that would be better? Maybe she should suggest it?
âAlana, please.â Polly brings her back to earth. âPlease donât you dare get nervous and avoid him now. Things between you and him do not end with that scene, you know that, right?â
Sheâs right. God, of course she is. Alana reaches out to hold her friendâs hand and listen to her.
âLana, you havenât come this far to freak out about it now. You donât actually have anything to be scared of anymore. It is quite clear that he feels the same. He is absolutely lovely and believe it or not, you are a catch.â
Alana laughs weakly and brings hers and Pollyâs hands up to her mouth to press her lips nervously and tenderly into Pollyâs fingers.
âGo and see him, petal. Youâve both done more than enough for this film and all of us can start packing stuff up.â Polly tells her. âEverything you have waited for is happening now. Go and see him. Today.â
Alana squeezes her friendâs hand and smiles at her. âThank you, Pea. Thank you so much, for pulling me together!â She says. âI love you.â Alana stands to clear her dishes with a slightly wobbly hand, but a big smile on her face. âIâll do it.â
------------------------------
There is a backless pink bench situated in a secluded corner of a small garden behind the pool. Bull rushes, flag irises and orange water flowers stand tall in a small turquoise pond dressed with layers of lily pads. A willow tree hangs its branches over the grass, the fine green leaves reflect in shards of mirror mosaicked into the pink wall at the back. White butterflies with orange tipped wings and painted-lady butterflies jitter around pink and yellow flower heads.
Fionn is sitting on the bench, cradling a bright pink mug and blowing lightly over the surface to cool down his morning coffee. A navy blue tee-shirt stretches over his chest, soft strands of brown hair curl messily over his forehead. Sunlight paints patches of white light over his face, and tangles into the hair on his legs. Despite not being a morning person, Fionn feels peaceful as he watches little bubbles travel up to the surface of the pond water, he sees them pop with a content smile on his face.
He feels a hand slowly stroke his back then tenderly smooth down his hair from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck.
Alana slides her hand down Fionnâs arm as she sits herself on the bench to face him. She folds her leg to rest her knee on Fionnâs thigh and she says a happy, shy good morning. Fionn places his hand gently on her leg and laughs out an equally shy greeting.
Fionn and Alana are both slow and quiet. As if they woke too early. They are not sleepy but the day is unfamiliarly new, it feels like the morning has paused so it can stretch out for longer than normal. The sun is awaiting their instruction before it rises higher in the sky.
Alana rests her head against Fionnâs shoulder and laughs out âI donât know what to say!â She feels his two fingers and thumb slide to cup her chin and trace the edge of her jaw. Fionn sweeps his fingers up Alanaâs face to push her hair behind her ear, so slowly and softly that his knuckles tickle her skin. She takes his hand in hers, looks at him and smiles. âMaybe weâve already said everything.â
Fionn turns so each of his legs are on either side of the bench with Alana sat cross legged between them. Their hands hold each otherâs thighs. He smiles softly. âYeah, maybe we have said it all now.â
âThank you for everything you said.â Alana speaks, earnestly. They sigh quietly through little smiles and slow blinks as they realise that theyâve finally sorted everything out. âThank you, too.â Fionn says. Alana reaches her arms around Fionnâs neck to hug him and he holds her with his arms wrapped round her back.
Their faces nestle into each otherâs necks, cheeks squished into tight smiles. Close, skin pressed inside folds and corners of skin. The morning, their skin pressed together in the morning. No walls between them. No water between them. No windows between them. No unspoken words between them. No cities between them. Theyâve done it. They are here. Together.
Their hug loosens a little and they rest their cheeks together with their eyes closed. They stay like that for a while, or what feels like a while, or what feels like no time at all. Eyelids shut softly and they breathe in and out slowly, they rub their cheeks together ever so slightly, almost like deer. The tips of Fionn and Alanaâs noses and lips brush over each otherâs skin in the hazy yellow morning light. Fionn gently ghosts faint kisses along Alanaâs jaw and onto her chin. They are gentle and slow. No rush. Just waking up. Alana leaves a trail of small kisses along Fionnâs neck and onto his face and up to his forehead.
Fionn kisses the end of Alanaâs nose. âSo weâre good?â She asks him with a smirk and locks her hands around the back of his neck. âWeâre, like⊠friendsâŠand stuff?â She laughs.
âAlana.â Fionn says her name seriously with a raised eyebrow. âCome on!â He smooths his palms over the back of her head and cups her face in his hands.
âOkayâ She smiles. âMore than friends, please?â
âThatâs better.â Fionn nods. âMore than friends.â
Theyâre still smiling even when they try not to. Itâs in their eyes and their whole faces, their whole bodies. It could be embarrassing but they donât care. Itâs only the two of them anyway, and theyâve waited long enough. A year and a bit isnât that long, really, but it felt like it.
âAre weâŠâ Alana leans closer to Fionn to speak in his ear ââŠTogether?â She asks him in a giggle, with a small knot in her stomach, and she takes his ear lobe into her mouth to suck in a little kiss. Fionn whispers into her ear, his lips touch her skin with every word. âI think⊠that we are together, Alana.â He kisses her cheek. âYes.â
âGood!â She sighs. âThatâs wonderful to hear.â She turns to smile against the corner of his lips. âPhew!â
âIâm so sorry it took me so long to tell you how I felt.â Fionn admits, linking their fingers together. And Alana replies, smoothing her hand over his. âDonât be. Youâre worth the wait, and Iâm really sorry it took me such weird and dramatic methods to tell you how I felt.â
They laugh and Alana wraps her legs around Fionnâs waist, he holds his arms around the bottom of her back. They rest their foreheads together. They are comfortable and happy, but nerves still tickle them and shoot up inside their stomachs, like an itch. Itâs comfortable but new at the same time. They are so close now, hugging and resting their heads together, but they itch, they both know it, silently. Slowly, with twitches in their bellies, Fionn and Alana lift their heads up, their chins meet gently, they tilt their heads slightly, slowly. They close their eyes, and they slowly press their lips together in a soft, gentle peck. They smile slightly then open their lips to slide between each otherâs in another kiss. Their lips open and meet again, and again. Fionn and Alana share a slow, long kiss. She rubs her hand over Fionnâs hair where she lightly holds the back of his neck. He gently lays his hand on her jaw. Alana can feel the shape of Fionnâs top lip between hers. Their lips are warm together. Soft, and they move slowly. Continuously. Soft, wet and gentle. The very faint flavours of coffee and toothpaste mix and taste much better than they should. Sort of comforting. Sort of sweet, sort of funny. Nice. Their lips are close, always. Never leaving, never stopping. Keeping kissing. Sliding. Long, slow, deep, wet, soft kisses. Sentences of long kisses, punctuated with little kisses. A paragraph for a kiss. Their lips are pink and kissing makes them more pink. They kiss in the garden. They sit on the pink bench, in the little garden with the pink walls, by the turquoise pond with the pink lotus flowers, and they kiss. They finally kiss because they finally can.
They kiss every word they never said into each otherâs lips. They kiss every word they did say to each other, by the pool at sunset last night. They kiss for every look they shared across every room theyâve been in. They kiss for every inch of distance they ever had between them. They kiss for every time they could have kissed sooner. They kiss for every person who told them to kiss sooner. They kiss for them kissing now. They kiss for them kissing again. They kiss for them finally getting it right. They kiss for the first time because itâs not the last time. They kiss till the sun rises higher in the sky and tells them the day has begun.
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(Bonus chapter with plot twist)
Fionn is at home, his dog Lewis curling up to his side, and Alana cuddling the other. Their limbs, dressed in comfy jeans and woollen autumn jumpers, tangle lazily on the sofa. Fionn looks up from reading and meets Alana with a wide and fond, if not slightly bemused, and maybe even teary-eyed smile. He places what heâs just read onto the table; a short story self-printed and hand bound in baby pink card, titled âPink Dolphinâ.
He chuckles and leans in to give Alana a lingering kiss. âBless youâ he tells her. âThis is crazy, this story. Itâs amazing! I canât believe you did that, itâs so funny!â Fionn shakes his head with an amused smile. âYeah, itâs maybe a tiny tiny bit strange, and itâs pretty hot!â He says. âBut honestly⊠thatâs maybe the nicest thing anyoneâs ever done for me.â Fionn smiles even wider and lays his hand across his heart. âParts of that really, really got to me. That was so, so nice!â
Alana reaches out to take Fionnâs hand in hers and breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief. âPhewww, thank God!â She looks at him with wide, innocent eyes and a smile, as if she didnât just share her dirty fanfiction with him. Fionn chuckles and pinches Alanaâs nose. He runs his thumb over her cheek to show heâs just teasing. The pair of them nervously giggle. Even after almost 3 years together, theyâre still as awkward with each other as they are comfortable.
Alana tucks her legs under Fionnâs and holds Lewisâ paw. âI never even planned for you to read it, you know! I was so embarrassed, Iâm so sorry!â She laughs at herself, and at Fionn laughing at her. âI know Iâm a bit of an idiot, I just really love you and youâre very inspiring!â Alana snorts a laugh at the facial expressions Fionn is pulling at her. âItâs all completely Harry and Louisâ fault anyway! They made me write it by planting the idea in my head! Theyâre out of control.â
âIâll tell you one thing.â Fionn replies, wrapping one of Alanaâs legs up in his arms and resting his face against her knee. âFionn is right.â He points to the pink laminated document on the table and picks it up. âYou are ridiculous!â He laughs, swatting at her with her own story. âAll of you are absolutely, beautifully, stupidly, impossibly, ridiculously, ridiculous! I have no idea why I spend time with any of you.â
Alana stretches away from him, laughing. âIâm ridiculously in love with you!â She sings. âWe all are, does that help!??â
âIt only helps a tiny bit, you lunatic!â Fionn laughs, pulling his girlfriend back into his arms. âWhen Harry said heâd dared you to write fanfiction about us aaaaages ago, I certainly never expected you to have taken it this far, or gone to that much effort! Itâs craaazy but itâs honestly brilliant though, and Iâm very flattered âŠbut donât tell Harry that.â
âAh thank God, though, honestly!â Alana sighs again, kissing Fionnâs knuckles. âI was so worried youâd be absolutely disgusted, and outraged, and confused, and just want to leave me immediately, and then be angry at Harry too!â She gushes, far too dramatically. âYou know⊠Louis even tried to get me to post it online!! Can you believe him!?â She admits, her eyes wild with excitement and confession.
âI just wrote it cos it helped me to, like, deal with you.â She explains, a little more peacefully. âI didnât wanna get obsessed or anything, or invest too much in our relationship too soon. I just wanted to be calm, and to enjoy fancying you, and happily take things slow, so transferring some emotion into this helped.â She admits. âI wrote it before we were properly together, and I know it sounds odd, and I know Iâm really dramatic⊠but it just made sense to me, and it was fun! I tried to keep all this hidden for all these years, and I pretended that I never actually wrote any, just on the off chance you got mad at me or were, like, really disturbed.â
Fionn laughs loudly at how stressed Alanaâs getting. She is so silly. He is actually really enjoying this. Seeing her freak out and feel awkward is pretty funny. Itâs adorable, actually. âIâm not angry with you!â He has to save her at some point. âIâm actually really glad that you took Harryâs dare, or advice?, so seriously, and wrote such an amazing story and managed to hang onto it all this time!â Fionn moves to rest his chin on top of Alanaâs head. âAnd it clearly worked, cos weâre all good.â
âYou made us into art, Alana, and that is really sweet and a real privilege. You know Iâd never judge you for doing something which helps or inspires you.â He says. âYou knew that at some point Iâd eventually reveal you to the world as the arty mad woman that I was somehow in love with, and I suppose if we do decide to share this beautiful, funny, wonderful, weird, sexy, and ridiculous story that youâve created, then maybe that would be as good a way as any for us to âcome outâ.â He jokes with her and kisses her on the temple.
Alana giggles and combs her fingers through Fionnâs hair. âYeah. Weâre really private, Dolfionn, and we hope to âcome outâ in a quiet and simple wayâŠletâs definitely reveal this epic, dramatic, arty, cinematic, fantasy filth about us!â She plays along. âSure! Maybe we should... Maybe itâs a brilliant idea! Maybe it would be funny?â She lays her head in Fionnâs lap and tickles Lewis under his ears.
Fionn rests his hand over Alanaâs tummy. âYeah, I definitely think so. Louisâ onto something... It would be silly and endearing, like us! But no⊠seriously, if we just stay calm, donât make much fuss, and continue living our lives quietly like we always doâŠâ He starts, âAnd Iâll keep mainly just talking about acting in any interviews, then everything will definitely be fine when people do know.â Alana has to agree with him. She meant it when she said Fionn was inspiring.
âIâm happy for people to know about us now, but we can definitely still be private.â He reassures them both. âWeâre not giving Harry and Louis the satisfaction of sharing that story anyway!â Fionn laughs and slides his hand beneath Alanaâs jumper, to slowly run his fingers over her warm skin. âWhat Iâm most concerned with now, howeverâŠâ He leans closer. ââŠis fucking you through a wall.â He teases but reaches further up under Alanaâs top, and licks a stripe up her neck. âYou wrote some incredibly sexy things and I was very impressed.â
Alana laughs and tugs at Fionnâs hair. She sits up to straddle him and leave wet, introductory kisses up Fionnâs neck. âSo, just to completely clarify first, youâre absolutely sure that youâre definitely not annoyed or embarrassed that I wrote that??â She double checks, stroking the soft hair on Fionnâs arms beneath his jumper sleeves.
âYouâre pretty difficult to be angry with, bee.â Fionn smiles and holds Alanaâs hips beneath her jumper. âIâm maybe the tiniest bit surprised? If not just at how detailed it is, even though I really shouldnât be because this is actually typical you⊠and its typical Harry and Louis! But honestly, love, no.â He answers. âIâm not annoyed with you at all. I absolutely love it, and I actually find the whole thing really cute!â He tells her. âI might be embarrassed if your story were shit, but luckily Iâm quite a fan.â Fionn flirts and rests his head against Alanaâs chest, kissing it through her clothes.
Alana cradles Fionnâs head in her arms. âI know Iâm silly and weird, pet, but for what itâs worth, I meant the things that I wrote. Well⊠what Harry forced me to write!â She jokes but winds loving kisses into Fionnâs hair and down over his throat. âI meant it a lot, petal, the romantic bits as well as the naughty bits.â
âI know. I can tell that you did, bee, you donât need to say sorry and I honestly do sincerely appreciate it.â Fionn says. âI appreciate yours and Harryâs unorthodox tactics to deal with your overwhelming love for me!â He jokes between tickles and cuddles and he playfully bites Alanaâs shoulder. Lewis wakes up and happily scrambles off into the other room.
âFor what itâs worth, Al, I would say everything to you that you wrote in that story, because itâs all completely true, and you deserve to hear it every day, and Iâm really proud of you. And I really do love you. And I appreciate everything we have together.â He kisses her firmly and pulls her closer into his lap and against his body. âI love you so fucking much, you adorable weirdo.â
âI love you, Fionn.â Alana sighs out and holds his face tightly up to hers, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. âI really really love you a lot. Thank you for everything. For putting up with me so well, and for always being so kind.â She kisses his lips. âAnd wonderful.â She kisses him again. âAnd pretty.â Another kiss. âAnd amazing.â Kiss. âAnd sweet.â
Fionn holds the back of her neck and they kiss quickly through deep breaths. Alanaâs hands run down Fionnâs chest and he squeezes the backs of her thighs tightly, moving his hand up her back and into her hair. In the moments Fionnâs lips arenât held between Alanaâs he informs her âWeâre reading the rude scenes aloud to each other while we have sex, you know.â
Alana sinks lower onto Fionnâs lap and hurriedly pulls off his jumper. âYes! God, I know.â
