spanish is my first language, and although I understand a little english, I do not speak or write it fluently.
I am afro latina, more specifically from Panama, so it may be that in some fics I write they will be between a 'black reader x person' in the fic, If this bothers you, please move on to the next fic you like, and don't leave bad comments on my account or the post :)
I use the translator in everything I write and upload, so some things will have mistakes, sorry for that
RULES
no hatred is accepted towards me, what i write, or other people. if you don't like the content, just swipe and find something else to read.
i don't accept any requests to write things +18. I just don't like writing that kind of thing and I'm not good at it.
i speak spanish, so if you're a spanish-speaking person as well, requests in spanish are totally open.
PEOPLE I WRITE FOR
footballers Lamine Yamal, Jamal Musiala, Pau Cubarsi, Kenan Yildiz or any footballer I know.
characters from series or movies mbav. stranger things. dps. criminal minds. doawk. little miss sunshine.
actors or actresses mason thames. miguel mora. malachi barton. walker scobell. javon walton.
singers oasis. the beatles. billie eilish. clairo. ian smith. jack harlow. blur.
god, I've spent like half an hour looking at the tweets from racist argentinians on twitter, justifying their insults and saying that the whole world up was a hate campaign against them
am I the only one who's noticed that there are a lot of fics here written in a very "american" style??? like, it's not bad writing, but it's SO obvious that it was written by someone from the United States
Strands of hair clung to your face, sticky with sweat and the tears that refused to stop falling. You stared straight ahead, into the void that stretched far beyond the edge of the building, but in truth, you saw nothing. Your eyes were wide open, yet your mind was elsewhereâtrapped in that dark place you had reached after feeling utterly alone for so long. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, as though the night chill had seeped deep into your bones; however, it wasnât cold, it was fear. But not the kind of fear that paralyzes you; rather, it was that other kind, the one that pushes you to do things you know can never be undone.
Your feet were barely on the ledge, sensing the wind rising from the street belowâthat wind that seemed to call your name, whispering that everything would be so much easier if you simply stopped fighting. Your eyes were swollen from crying, red and burning, but even so, amidst all that agony, you smiled. You smiled at your own predicament because it seemed almost laughable to have reached this point, so humorous and yet so profoundly tragic all at once.
And then you wondered how you had ended up here. You didnât know for certainâor perhaps you didâbut so many things had accumulated over time that you could no longer pinpoint the exact moment. Perhaps it was that time no one listened to you, or that other instance when you felt entirely invisible in a crowd of people. The truth was, you were accustomed to feeling this way, so used to it that you had stopped noticing. Until the day came when exhaustion reached its limitâthat threshold you believed you would never cross. But it arrived, and when it did, you realized the weariness was no longer merely physical, the kind you can wash away with a good night's sleep. This was different; it had become mental, and that was the absolute worst kind. Physical exhaustion allows you to rest, but mental fatigue haunts you even in your dreams, refusing to grant you a single second of peace, always lingering there, whispering cruel things and reminding you of everything that went wrong.
That very same exhaustion had stripped away your appetite. You no longer felt hunger; food had lost its flavor, and you only ate because you knew you had to, though chewing felt like a grueling chore, like something unworthy of the effort. It had also robbed you of the desire to smile; those smiles that used to surface effortlessly were gone forever, replacing a vast portion of your day with tears that welled up without warning. It screamed at you that you were useless at everything, that you were good for nothing, and that everything you touched shattered.
And the worst part was that you began to believe it, because when you hear something enough times, you eventually internalize it as truth. It made you view life in shades of gray, colorless and devoid of purpose, as if someone had extinguished the sun and you were trapped in a cloudy day that would never end.
Is this the right thing to do? Could anyone even notice this? Could someone just see me for once?
These questions whirled around in your head like a broken record, yielding no answers, only breeding more questions. And then, just as you were ready to take that final step, a voice shattered the silence.
"Do you want to talk?"
The voice arrived softly, yet with enough resonance to pull your mind back to the present. You blinked several times, trying to focus your vision because the tears prevented you from seeing clearly.
Looking through a blur of tears, you caught sight of a figure you never expected to see. It was a tall man, with a red cape billowing in the wind, wearing a blue suit with a symbol emblazoned on his chest.
Superman stood before you, his head slightly tilted, gazing at you with a serenity that made you feel strange. There was no judgment in his eyes, no haste, only patience.
"I don't want you to stop me," you whispered, your voice emerging so faintly that you could barely hear yourself.
But he didnât budge from his spot. He remained there, steadfast, as though he harbored no fear of what you might do.
"Whatever reason you have for doing this, it has a solution," Superman said, and his words carried such conviction that, for a fleeting moment, you almost believed him.
But then the exhaustion rushed back, and you looked at him with eyes brimming with tears.
"And what if I've already tried everything?" you asked, your voice breaking at the end.
You truly had tried everything; you had spoken up, you had wept, you had silently begged for help, but no one seemed to listen. Or perhaps you just didnât know how to ask properly. He nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words.
"You can try again. Perhaps you think that dying is easy and that... you won't be afraid," he said, his voice so gentle it made your chest ache.
You shook your head, because as much as you wanted to be brave, the truth was that you were terrified.
"I am afraid, but I am just so... tired," you said, your voice trembling in tandem with your hands. You looked into his eyes, searching for something you couldn't quite define. "I just want... I want to rest," you stated, and that word, rest, sounded so sweet and yet so distant at the same time.
But he shook his head.
"I know you must be tired, and that the world surely hasn't been kind to you." You looked at him, and Superman smiledâa warm smile that illuminated his entire countenance. He continued speaking, his voice acting like a soothing hand caressing your soul. "But you must step out of the world that is drowning you in order to breathe. You cannot see it right now, but there is air out there waiting for you, colors you havenât yet beheld, people you have yet to meet. You just need a little help to reach them."
And then, he extended his hand toward you, palm open, offering you something you never anticipated. "If you take it, I will dive into the depths with you, and we will surface together," he said, and those words were so wild and so beautiful that you didnât know whether to laugh or cry. He, Superman, everyone's hero, was willing to descend with you to the very bottom of the pit just to pull you out.
"You're a hero, thousands of people depend on you. Why would you stop for a life that... a life that does little more than get in the way?" you inquired, your voice reduced to a mere thread. You genuinely could not comprehend why someone like him would dedicate his time to someone like you.
Superman sighed, and for a brief moment, his shoulders seemed to relax.
"Because I believe that every life is important, that it is worth living even when it seems bleak. Because as long as there is hope, even a shred of hope, then there is a willingness to live. And I can see that hope in you. It's there, even if you can't see it yourself. It's in your tears, in your fear, and in the fact that you are still here listening to me."
And when he said that, you could no longer contain it. You wept like you had never wept before, your entire body convulsing. You were about to step down, to take that pace you thought would end everything, but your foot faltered, slipping on the edge. Your body pitched forward, and you closed your eyes, accepting your fate. Even with Superman right there, you thought perhaps dying was your destiny, that there was no turning back.
But then, as you fell, your body collided with Superman's. He had flown to you in an instant, so swiftly that you didn't even see him move. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt his warmth, his strength, and his scent of the sky and the wind. When you were back on the roof of your apartment building, you didn't let go. Your arms clung to him as if he were the sole piece of solid ground in a turbulent sea.
I would have let go if he hadn't asked, if he hadn't been so patient.
"Seriously, are you okay?" he murmured against your ear, his voice so soft it shattered you from within.
And then you cried like a small child who had never been embraced, like someone who had harbored all the agony of the world in their chest and had finally found a sanctuary to let it pour out. Your entire body shook, and you couldn't speak; you could only sob and sob.
"I don't want to die," you managed between sobs, those words wrenching from the deepest recesses of your being. "But everything... everything is so difficult," you whispered, pressing yourself against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong.
And he merely held you tighter, never releasing you, never rushing you, allowing you to weep for as long as you needed. Superman did not pull away. He didn't let go for a single second, not even when your tears soaked his suit and your hands gripped him as though he were the only life jacket in the middle of a dark ocean. He held you firmly, his arms enveloping you with a tranquility you hadn't felt in ages.
And within that embrace, you felt it. It was that hope you had heard so much about, the kind you always believed was reserved for othersâfor stronger, braver people. But there it was, in the warmth of his chest, in the rhythmic thud of his heart, and in the way his hand gently caressed your back without haste, never wishing for you to stop crying before your time. He didn't push you away, and that was precisely what you needed most in that moment: someone who wasn't afraid of your tears.
You cried until your eyes burned and your throat turned dry. You cried until there were no tears left inside you, leaving only a void that slowly began to fill with something entirely different. And then, when the tears finally ceased, he gently took you by the shoulders and guided you toward one of the benches on the building's rooftopâthe ones used for events or when the neighbors gathered to watch the sunset. He seated you carefully, as if you were made of glass, and sat down beside you, leaving just enough space for you to feel accompanied without feeling crowded.
"Tell me, I will listen to everything," Superman said, his voice so peaceful it inspired confidence. There was no rush in his words, no judgment, only the promise to remain there for as long as necessary.
"Isn't there anyone else to save?" you asked without looking at him, staring down at your hands which were still trembling slightly. Your fingers intertwined, playing with the hem of your clothes, searching for something to do to avoid feeling so utterly exposed.
"Yes, I have to save you," he said, and when you looked up at him, you saw a smile on his face, as if he were entirely unacquainted with sorrow. He had deep dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, and that small expression of his caused an involuntary smile to grace your face amidst all the chaos. It was tiny, barely a twitch of the lips, but it was there.
"My job is overwhelming," you whispered, your voice sounding exhausted, as though you were carrying a weight that wouldn't allow you to breathe. "I work from Monday to Saturday, even Sundays, even though they don't pay overtime. But it's not just the work, it's the people. They are so... so cruel," you admitted, feeling the words pour out uncontrollably, as if you had unlocked a door that had been sealed shut for a very long time. "Adults behaving like teenagers. They've fabricated so many things about meârumors, lies, things that aren't even true. And I just stayed quiet, I didn't say anything, thinking that if I ignored it all, it would go away. But it didn't. Everything became so monotonous, so heavy, and now I can't escape the very hell I chose to fall into."
Superman nodded slowly, processing every word that came out of your mouth. He didn't interrupt you, nor did he try to offer quick solutions. He simply listened, and that alone was more than most people ever did.
"Have you seen a psychologist or a psychiatrist to get treatment?" he asked carefully, as though every word was a delicate step, afraid of hurting you. His voice was gentle, but his eyes remained fixed on you, watching every change in your expression.
"I did," you said, your voice cracking slightly as the memory resurfaced. "But my mother scolded me. She thinks that's only for crazy people, that anyone who goes to therapy is mentally unstable. She won't let me take medication, even though I've already been diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. She thinks I just need to try harder, that my exhaustion is nothing but laziness, and that I'm just being dramatic."
Your hands tightened against your legs, and you felt anger and sadness collide inside your chest.
"And what is it that you want?" Superman whispered, his question so sincere that it made you look him straight in the eyes. There wasn't a trace of judgment in his gaze, only genuine curiosity, as if what you had to say truly mattered to him.
You looked back at him honestly, your heart completely laid bare.
"I want to be happy," you said, your voice breaking as those two words left your lips. They sounded so simple, yet they felt impossibly out of reach. "I just want to be happy. I want to feel like my life has meaning, like I'm not wasting my time, like I'm not a mistake."
He nodded with the kind of calmness that made it seem as though he understood everything.
"Then pursue happiness, even if it means leaving everything behind. Sometimes we have to let go of the things that weigh us down, even when it hurts, even when we're afraid. It's better to live alone than to die for everyone else. It's better to start over than to remain in a place that slowly extinguishes you."
His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made you stop and think.
"What if I'm not good enough?" you asked, your voice small, like that of a little girl terrified of never being enough. "What if I only ruin myself even more? What if I try to change and end up worse than I already am?"
"The people who humiliate you are the ones hurting you, not yourself," Superman said, his voice so certain that you almost believed him instantly. "Your true light doesn't need anyone else to shine. I can see it. It's still there, beneath all that pain, beneath every layer that was forced onto you without your permission. If nothing changes, then make it change. Do it so you can be free. And I promise you, I'll be there listening to your heartbeat, and every time you want to return to the top floor of a building, I'll always be there to take your hand. I won't let you fall."
You nodded because his words felt like a soothing balm over an open wound. You didn't know if you could trust completely, but at that moment, with him sitting beside you and the warmth of his presence surrounding you, you wanted to try.
And that was exactly what happened.
Superman didn't leave.
He walked you all the way to the entrance of your apartment building and waited until you had gone inside. Even though you thought he would leave afterward, he didn't. He stayed for hours on the rooftop of the building across the street, watching your window because he was afraid his words had been nothing more than empty promises and that you might change your mind.
Then, after drinking the tea he had recommended, you walked over to the window to close it before going to bed. You looked outside and saw him. He was sitting on the rooftop across from your building, absentmindedly swinging his feet back and forth. The moment he noticed you, he looked directly at you and immediately started making gestures. He stretched his arms out before bringing them together, mimicking someone closing a curtain. Then he pointed at his head while shaking it from side to side, as though he were saying, "Don't think bad thoughts." After that, he rested both hands against his cheek and tilted his head, pretending to be asleep, and you smiled because you understood exactly what he meant. "Go to sleep."
"Thank you, Superman," you whispered, even though you knew he couldn't possibly hear you from that far away.
Yet somehow, he understood immediately. He nodded with a warm smile and lifted one hand in greeting. You closed the curtain, and for a brief moment, the world didn't feel quite so dark.
Behind the suit, Clark couldn't stop thinking about you. About the way you cried. About how your hands trembled. About how your eyes searched desperately for something they couldn't find. He had witnessed suffering like yours countless times. He had seen so many people standing on the edge of the abyss, yet human sadness always hurt him in a way he could never fully explain. He couldn't save everyoneâthat much he knewâbut there was something different about you. Maybe it was the honesty with which you had spoken, or maybe it was the way you had clung to him as though you truly wanted to keep living. As the wind swept through his cape, Clark silently promised himself that he would stay, that he wouldn't leave you alone, that he would remind you there was still hope, even on the grayest days.
Clark believed he would never see you again. Of course, he continued watching over you from afar, always making sure you were okay, but you never returned to the top floor of the building where he had found you that night. Sometimes he would hear your heartbeat quicken, and his own heart would tighten in fear, convinced that something terrible had happened. But every time he checked, it wasn't danger. You must have been doing exactly what he'd told you to do: walking away from everything that had been hurting you and searching for the fresh start you so desperately needed. Even though he never approached you, he left behind little signs that he was still there, small things he knew you would find. They were Superman stamps he had bought from a souvenir shop. Whenever he flew past your apartment, he would leave one on your window. If he saw your car parked somewhere, he would tuck one beneath the windshield wiper. Sometimes he left one on your apartment railing, certain you would notice it. He simply wanted you to know that you weren't alone, even if he couldn't always be by your side.
Two months passed that way, and your heartbeat became steady and calm, like the heartbeat of someone who was finally beginning to find peace. Clark smiled to himself the first time he noticed. He didn't know exactly what had changed in your life, but hearing your heart beat without the anguish he had felt that night was enough to make him feel at ease.
That morning at the office, Clark was simply following his usual routine. He was reviewing articles, taking notes, and doing what he always did when suddenly he heard a familiar heartbeat. It was the very heartbeat he had quietly followed over the past two months, the one he had learned to recognize among millions of others. When he looked up, his eyes widened in surprise.
You were walking beside Perry, the editor-in-chief, clutching your bag against your side with a notebook in your hand while listening carefully as he showed you around.
A smile spread across Clark's face before he could stop it.
What are you doing here?
He wondered as he watched you walk confidently through the newsroom, your hands still slightly clenched. They were the same hands he remembered trembling that night. You were nervousâhe could tell from the way your fingers tightenedâbut there was something undeniably different about you.
Your hair had grown longer, and you wore it in a style that made you look calmer, more comfortable with yourself. You looked around the newsroom with quiet curiosity, like someone discovering an entirely new world. There wasn't a trace of tears in your eyes anymore. None of that deep sadness he had seen the night you met.
Perry introduced you to Lois, the Planet's most renowned reporter, and to Jimmy, the photographer who was always running from one assignment to the next.
Finally, your eyes met Clark's.
He felt his heart skip a beat.
"This is Clark Kent," Perry said.
You nodded with a small smile.
"It's nice to meet you," you said nervously, your voice sounding lighter than it had that night.
"She'll be joining the photography team. Your desk will be next to Jimmy's, so go ahead and get settled," Perry said.
You nodded again before following him toward the work area.
Clark followed you with his eyes, unable to stop himself from watching you. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. Had you sunk beneath the surface and fought your way back up for air, just like he'd told you to? Had you found the courage to walk away from everything that had been hurting you? Were you happy now, even if only a little? But he held himself back, because those weren't questions he had the right to ask. That night, you hadn't met Clark Kentâyou had met Superman. And even though he was both, he didn't know whether he had the right to bring any of it up.
"It's her," Lois whispered to Jimmy.
Clark glanced at them curiously. Lois showed Jimmy something on her phone, and he leaned in for a closer look. It was a photograph of two people, followed by another picture of you.
"The photographer who sued her former company, right?" Jimmy said, staring at the screen with wide eyes. "I heard they kept stealing her photo credits just because she'd only been working there for a short time."
"And she also won the lawsuit for workplace abuse and harassment," Lois added, genuine respect evident in her voice. "If Perry hired her, she must be incredibly talented. Not everyone has the courage to stand up to a company like that and actually win."
Then she looked at Clark with a teasing grin.
"So, what's the matter, Smallville?" Lois asked. "Do you already have a crush on the new girl?"
Jimmy immediately burst into laughter the moment he saw the blush spreading across Clark's face.
Clark didn't answer. He simply lowered his gaze and tried to focus on his work.
But his mind was already somewhere else.
During your first month, Clark approached you professionally, only when work required it. Perry even paired the two of you on a few assignments, and Clark treated you with the same kindness he showed everyone else, careful not to make you uncomfortable.
But he watched you.
Of course he did.
He couldn't help noticing the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way you smiled.
Were you really happy now?
It was a question he found himself asking often, and part of him feared you were pretendingâthat beneath that newfound calm, the very same storm was still raging.
It was at the beginning of the second month that something changed.
Clark was standing in the office kitchenette with a cup of coffee in his hands when he saw you walk in to pour yourself a glass of water. He looked at you and swallowed hard, feeling his words catch in his throat.
"The coffee here is really bitter," Clark said.
The moment you looked at him, he realized how ridiculous that sounded.
"I mean... I know you've started drinking coffee, but... just in case... you forgot," he added awkwardly, his cheeks growing warm.
"I don't drink coffee, Clark," you replied with a smile. As you pulled a tea bag from your pocket, you added, "My psychiatrist thinks it's unhealthy for me and that it could interfere with my sleep schedule."
Your voice was calm, carrying a sense of peace he had never heard from you before.
"So you did end up seeing a psychiatrist," Clark said aloud.
When you looked at him in confusion, he immediately realized his mistake.
He cleared his throat and hurried to recover.
"I mean... it's good that you're taking care of your mental health. Everyone here believes that's important," he said.
You smiled warmly.
"Yeah," you replied, your eyes settling on the tea as you prepared it.
"Do you like working here?" Clark asked carefully, never taking his eyes off you. "I mean... does it feel comfortable for you? Are you... happy?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.
"It's much better than my previous job," you admitted before looking him straight in the eyes. "I try to be happy every day. My work is... I don't know... I think I finally found where I belong."
Then you let out a soft laugh.
"Sorry. I ended up talking too much."
"Not at all," Clark answered immediately, his words coming out with far more enthusiasm than he'd intended.
You nodded, picked up your tea, and walked away.
But just before leaving the kitchenette, you stopped.
"I know you interview Superman," you said, looking back at him.
Clark felt the air leave his lungs.
"You probably see him pretty often. If you ever see him again... please tell him thank you. He probably doesn't remember me or even know who I am, but... I never got the chance to thank him properly that night. He truly gave me the hope I needed."
Then you walked away with your tea in hand, leaving Clark standing alone in the middle of the kitchenette, his heart racing.
Clark felt his chest fill with something warm, something he couldn't put into words.
Maybe Superman hadn't just saved a life that day.
Maybe Superman had made it possible for Clark to meet the woman who would never leave his mind.
As he looked at the place where you had been standing only moments before, he realized that it didn't matter if you had no idea who he really was.
why can't I ever find fan fiction about Johnny Storm and a reader with superpowers??? that would make such a good fic, but I see that very few people write about it
Summary: Finn hates how often you're at his house to hang out with his sister. Though maybe he grows to enjoy your company after a sleepless night leads you to watch a movie together?
Tags: slow burn, fluff, angst, mild canonical drug use
Words: 10,954
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, but here I'm feeding you with 11k words of good old slow burn that I think is one of my best works. Enjoy!
You and Gwen were best friends, almost inseparable. In a time when most other students called her a witch or otherwise didn't want anything to do with her for whatever childish reasons, that was very needed.
Of course, she also had Ernesto as a friend, but that was different from your relationship with her. Ernesto was clearly in love with her and as much as he tried to be nonchalant, he was very bad at hiding his feelings, even in normal conversations. With you, on the other hand, she could talk about anything and everything, including boy problems and anything she wouldnât necessarily want to discuss with someone who she knew had a crush on her. You were fairly certain that it was requited, so she wanted to maintain some sort of reputation to keep him interested.
Naturally, you spent a lot of time at Gwen's house. Since her father had quit drinking, he was calmer and safer to be around, so you didn't always have to resort to meetings in public or at your place. In addition to regular hangouts, you had sleepovers every other weekend, alternating between your house and the Blakesâ.
When Finn realized just how close you and his sister were, he started to complain about how often you were here. Every time you came over, he would roll his eyes or turn away and inhale sharply, followed by biting his lip, which you weren't sure whether to classify as his usual expression at this age or genuine distaste for you and your frequent visits.
Not that it would affect him directly, as you were coming to see Gwen, not him. Besides, you never bothered him when you were in Gwen's room, outside or anywhere else he wasn't. Why would it matter that you were here when all he did was go to the convenience store, do homework, listen to music in his room, watch television or disappear in the yard to smoke weed?
Gwen told you that was just how older brothers were, so you shrugged it off. As long as Mr Blake didn't mind your presence, you weren't bothered by anything Finn said.
This Friday night, you were sleeping at Gwen's place again. Much to your chagrin, Finn opened the door. He leaned against the doorframe, towering over you with crossed armsâwhich you hated as you clearly remembered the time when he had been shorter than you and used to wear jeans of a certain cut in an attempt to appear taller. Wordlessly, he stared you down for a moment.
âI said hi,â he murmured eventually, stepping aside, although you hadn't heard him utter a single sound.
âHi.â You walked inside and stood in the corridor while he closed the door.
Finn turned around and put his hand on the dresser, frowning as he gave you an all too familiar look that you would have mistaken for arrogance if you didn't know any better. Coming from him, it was just annoyance. âWaiting for me or what? I got stuff to do.â
You glanced down at the tip of a joint sticking out of his fist and scoffed. âSureâŠâ
âGwenâs in her room,â he said, pointing in the direction of her bedroom.
âI know where her room is,â you smiled sweetly. Just as you wanted to make your way to her room, the door swung open and Gwen pulled you in for a hug.
For the rest of the evening, you didnât see a lot of Finnâluckily, because you werenât in the mood to argue. If he would have even talked to you so much, that is. However, your interaction was forgotten within minutes spent with Gwen.
In the middle of the night, you woke up after half an hour of what had felt more like a nap. You shouldnât have drunk so much coffee today, but you wouldnât have survived this last class without it. You rolled over to face Gwen. She didnât look like she was having a nightmare for once. For another minute, you stared at the ceiling, trying to think of something that would help you fall asleep. It wasnât like you werenât tiredâyou had been when you had gone to bed, but these thirty minutes of sleep were enough for now.
For some reason, your first thought was Finn and this little conversation earlier, which was longer than you normally talkedâif you talked at all. You thought about whether you had really missed his âhiâ or he had only been fucking with you. If he hadnât, why hadnât you heard him greet you? Was your mind somewhere else and more specifically, where was it?
When there was no chance to actually fall asleep anytime soon, you quietly shuffled into the kitchen to get something to drink. You let the light of the street lanterns shining through the open curtains lead the way, not turning any lights on to avoid waking anybody.
Speak of the devilâŠ
Finn was lounging on the couch, taking up the entire space with his long figure, still wearing jeans and a shirt of a band you liked but would never admit to him. Who were you to try and strike up a conversation with him? About common interests? No way.
As usual, he was watching TV, but this time it was music videos instead of horror movies. Either he had stopped staying up to watch Vincent Price flicks since he had gone through worse horrors himself, or nothing good was airing tonight, or he was killing time until something of his interest would be on.
Carefully, you took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water before checking if there was any ice in the freezer. The thud of the fridge door closing drew his attention away from the television as he shot you an annoyed glance, fixating you for a few seconds before he turned his head again.
With the glass in your hand, you stood in the doorway. âItâs past midnight,â you pointed out.
âSo what,â Finn mumbled indifferently without looking up.
In hindsight, you asked yourself why you had even said that. The clock was right there in the living room where he could see; of course he knew the time. Rolling your eyes, you turned to leave.
âHey, can you grab me a soda?â he suddenly spoke up, less in a commanding tone than in a normal way when asking someone for a favor.
Although you were already in the kitchen and didnât have to go out of your way to give him a drink, you had to resist the urge to say âIâm not your maidâ. You returned to the fridge and opened a random bottle of soda, which you hoped he liked. If he didnât, you didnât care either. If he had special requests, he should have gotten it himself.
Back in the living room, you put the bottle on the coffee table. âHere. Good night.â
âThanks,â he said so quietly you barely heard it. Had you been in the mood to argue, you would have asked if saying that caused him physical pain, but you straightened up without a word, ready to go to bed. You still couldnât sleep, but if the alternative was being alone with Finn and his sunny disposition, you would have rather gone to bed, even if that involved more tossing and turning.
âIs Gwen asleep?â There was concern in his voice and his eyes as he looked up at you, something generally rare but common when it came to his sister.
âYeah.â
He nodded in relief, though the frown didnât fully leave his forehead. âAnd why arenât you?â
âI donât know, maybe too much caffeine today,â you answered truthfully, hands tucked into the pockets of your pajamas as you looked at the TV set to avoid his gaze. Finn never looked at you directly for more than a second unless he was giving you an angry stare. Him looking you in the eyes with a neutral and nearly soft expression was so unusual it almost scared you.
âWhy donât you stay here?â he suddenly proposed.
You quickly replaced the shocked look on your face with a cocky smile. âMove your ass then,â you ordered, nodding towards his legs, which were sprawled out across the couch so you wouldnât have had any space to sit.
Without complaints, he shuffled aside to make room for you. He was still more lying than sitting, but it was enough for you. Now he was fully facing you, putting on a tight-lipped smile you didnât know how to read. âEntertain me. The Fly is only on in ten minutes.â
âWhy do you hate me?â you asked without a pause. It was his own fault that he left you the power over the conversation topic.
Finn froze and sighed before leaning forward, his fingers interlocked and dangling between his knees. âI donât hate you,â he murmured. âI just hate how often youâre here.â
You raised a brow skeptically. âAnd thereâs a difference?â
âYeah, there is. I just⊠like to be alone and never hang out with anyone, so it pisses me off when youâre around all the time,â he admitted, glancing back and forth between you and his dirty nails, which seemed to be very fascinating to him right now. The ends of his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes also did him a service to avoid eye contact.
Frankly, you felt a little bad about interpreting his reactions as distaste for you personally. Now that he mentioned it, he really was alone most times you saw him, and if he wasnât, he was only with Gwen or Ernesto, Robinâs little brother. Robin had been Finnâs best friend when he had still been alive and it seemed Finn never got over that loss.
At the beginning, he had spent more time with Ernesto because Robin would have wanted that, but as he grew older, Ernesto repeatedly tried to ask Gwen out subtly enough for her to not consider it a date but boldly enough for Finn to catch on, and Finn, being the overly protective older brother, didnât like that.
Eventually, he looked up at you. âItâs not about you.â
You gave him a forgiving smile and lightly squeezed his knee. âItâs okay.â
There wasnât any more time for conversation as the opening credits of the movie had already started. Finn turned around to sit facing the television, elbow on the armrest and the soda he hadnât touched until then in his other hand.
âYouâve seen this one before?â you whispered and he shook his head. Actually, his response surprised you. From the posters in his roomâwhich you only saw on occasion when the door was openâand the movies he sometimes referenced, you had assumed he had seen most Vincent Price classics.
The technicolor from the bright screen illuminated his face in a way that brought out his features more than you would have noticed any other day. Maybe that was because you had never cared to look at him longer than necessary, partially because he usually looked angry and you expected him to snap at you if he caught you staring, partially because you had no reason to pay much attention to his looks. You recognized him if you saw him somewhere and that was enough.
You didnât have a crush on him, so why would you have admired his perfectly chiseled jaw and unique nose, his chocolate brown eyes that carried fire in them most of the time but looked even softer in the rare moments when he was relaxed, his thick brown curls which he often brushed out but always reappeared in the back, his lips that were often pressed together but were now parted just a little, like he was going to say something?
You pulled yourself out of your thoughts in case he did speak to you and you missed it again, but he neither turned to you nor did any words come out of his mouth.
At some point, your eyes got heavy and it was getting harder to stay awake, as interesting as this movie was. You hated that you were probably going to miss the climax of the film, but you also couldnât turn down what little sleep you could get after not being able to for so long.
When Finn felt your head drop on his shoulder, he reached out to pull down a blanket that was lying on top of the backrest and draped it over you.
As you heard the music playing during the end scene and the test card showed up on the screen, you woke up with a loud inhale, quickly lifting your head up and leaning against the other side of the sofa when you realized you had been unintentionally using Finn as a pillow. You rubbed your eyes and looked up at the clock. Two in the morning.
âHow did it end?â you asked immediately.
Finn smiled, a real smile rather than a shit-eating grin. âWell, I donât know exactly how much you missed, but the husband had the head and arm of an insect because a fly got into the teleporter, so he asked his wife to search for a fly with a white head so he could repeat the process and pray he returns to his human form. They couldnât catch it and he asked her to crush him as you saw in the scene at the beginning. The officer didnât believe her and wanted to send her to a psych ward, but then the brother called him outside where there was the fly with the human head, which the officer killed with a stone. They declared the husbandâs death to be suicide so the wife could walk free.â
You were too tired for more of a response than a nod, processing his short summary as you stretched a little. âThanks for letting me stay a while,â you eventually said, quietly as if he wasnât supposed to hear.
âSure, it was nice not being the only one up so late.â
âEven if I was sleeping half of the time,â you added.
A couple of hours ago, Finn would have said, âEspecially because you were sleeping, so I didnât have to hear you naggingâ, but now he might have said, âSometimes itâs more about someone just being thereâ. What he did say was, âYeah. Time for bed now.â
Perhaps that sounded a little too dry and was not what you wanted to hear, but it was too late at night for more vulnerability than he had already shown earlier. He stood up to turn off the TV while you folded the blanket you had only now noticed you hadnât wrapped yourself in before drifting off to sleep.
Yawning, you got up and walked over to where Finn was waiting by the floor lamp and switched the light off as you left the room. Together you shuffled down the corridor towards Gwenâs bedroom, Finn walking behind you. âGood night,â he whispered as your hand carefully pushed down on the door handle.
âGood night,â you returned and watched him slip into his own bedroom next door.
The next morning, the three of you were sitting at the breakfast table while Mr Blake had gone to the hardware store to get a spare part for the bathroom sink.
Finn never had breakfast when you were visiting. Either he would eat before you woke up, after you left, or not at all. He just couldn't stand the feeling of being around you and Gwen as you chatted about things he couldn't join in on.
This time, though, he was sitting across from you in his chair and there wasn't the furious expression on his face you had grown so accustomed to. He almost looked calm if it wasn't for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the edge of the table and his wandering eyes.
As if nothing had happened, you talked to Gwen without paying much attention to Finn when you were busy discussing whatever topic she brought up. You felt his eyes on you, but it didn't bother you. It wasn't the first time he stared, even if from the corner of your eye, this one looked less like a glare than an attempt at prolonged eye contact without response. Eventually, you turned to face him and for a few seconds, your eyes locked before he looked down at his cornflakes and continued eating.
Except for a âmorningâ as he had stepped into the kitchen, he didnât talk to you for the rest of your stay. It wasnât like you and Gwen made many pauses to allow him to speak anyway.
When you packed your bag and left to make your way home, you didnât notice Finn standing beside the door until he called your name. You turned around to see him withâwhat else could it beâa joint in his hand, which he held just below his chin as he nodded and said, âBye.â
âBye,â you replied, startled by how quickly his way of speaking to you had changed.
Over the following weeks, Gwen grew more and more suspicious of Finnâs less hostile behavior towards you. She was so used to him acting like he did that she wasnât bothered by his less than warm welcomes whenever you visited. Him being nice around you wasnât unprompted. Something had to have happened, but she couldnât prove it and wouldnât ask unless you told her yourself.
In school hallways, he didnât glare at you anymore but nodded or sometimes even raised his hand to greet you. When Gwen mentioned you, he didnât huff and roll his eyes anymore. He didnât join her in gushing about you, but he acted neutral enough to let her come up with theories. At first, she thought he had cut back on smoking and him being calmer all of a sudden was a side effect of that, but he still regularly left the house at night to get high.
Most of the next times you visited her, Finn was the person to open the door first when he had normally let the bell ring until somebody else answered it. When Gwen didnât immediately come running, the two of you even chatted briefly. Real conversations without the sole purpose to piss the other one off. The topics ranged from music and films over something prompted by an event at school to plans for the afternoon or weekend if he looked like he was going out.
One didnât need a gift like hers to see that something had shifted in the way you talked and looked at each other. In fact, it was a miracle that you suddenly talked and looked at each other at all, but even more so as friendly as you did now. Nowhere near as close as you and Gwen were, but you at least sounded like good acquaintances.
One day she asked, genuinely surprised but also hoping to squeeze more information out of you, âNo more complaints from Finn about you being here all the time?â
You just shrugged and looked at your feet as you walked. âChange of heart, I guess.â
Gwen only grinned teasingly and didnât push further when she realized that was all you were going to say on the topic.
This weekend, another sleepover at Gwenâs was scheduled after skipping one while you and your parents had visited some relatives last weekend. Mr Blake, who was washing his car in front of the house, told you to just come inside. When you did, you found Finn sitting at the kitchen table and brooding over homework. The pencil in his hand was constantly moving on the paper, so it must have been less the task than his general mood today. Maybe he had gotten detention or some student had provoked him again.
You stepped closer and saw that he was doodling in the corners of the worksheet while reading the text. âYouâre in an unscientific mood.â
Finn quickly looked up, seemingly not having noticed you until now, and smiled with raised eyebrows, putting his elbow on top of the backrest of the chair. âThe Fly?â he asked and you nodded. âI didnât know you were still awake then.â
Playfully rolling your eyes, you pulled your hand out of your pocket with the intention to smack his arm, but you retracted it and turned your head away, scanning the room for Gwen. And there she was, standing in the doorway with a badly concealed smirk.
Thankfully, Gwen and you rarely talked about boys unless it was to vent. You had no boy in your life worth mentioning and her admirer Ernesto wasnât important enough yet to be his own conversational topic. Despite your heavy assumptions that she was crushing on him too, she only passed it off as âhe is niceâ but refused to acknowledge that going to the movies was a date.
All the more surprised were you when the focal point of the discussion tonight was Ernesto. âToday he asked about Duran Duran againâŠâ she started.
âIâve been telling you to go with him!â you chimed in enthusiastically. âHave you seen the prices of those tickets? Even if only for that, itâs always better to go with someone whoâs also a fan. Not every guy would buy concert tickets for you!â
âCalm down,â Gwen laughed. âI said yes. He said heâd pick me up early so we could eat something before the show.â
âFinally!â you groaned in relief, dramatically clapping your hands.
Gwen leaned forward, resting her elbows on her crossed legs. âMore time with my brother, right?â she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
âNo!â you blurted out maybe too quickly, your dry throat not helping either. âWhy do you think that?â
âWell, you insist that watching a movie together is a date, so by that logic, you and Finn had a date recently too,â she explained, immediately using you and Finnâs little interaction earlier against you. You sincerely hoped her brother hadnât given her more context than she needed behind your back.
âOkay, you got that completely wrong,â you whined, hiding your face in your hands and rubbing your eyes. âYou know, last time I was here overnight I couldnât sleep and went to the kitchen for some water. Finn was still awake and offered me to stay and watch The Fly with him.â
âAnd you fell asleep,â Gwen added, making you widen your eyes, but before you could ask how she knew that, she explained, âHe mentioned it earlier.â
You simply nodded. âYeah⊠And thatâs it, really.â
She didnât seem to quite believe you, but she didnât interrogate you. She definitely knew something was going on but decided to just let things unfold.
However, when she continued talking about Ernesto, she told you about how she often caught him looking at her, long enough to be awkward, before looking away, about how he sought her out to chat with her during breaks or after school and always found something to talk about with her, about how he sometimes said her name seemingly without knowing what he even wanted to say to her, about how his eyes lit up when she approached him first, about how he smiled or laughed a little too much at her jokes.
The more she elaborated on all of theseâto you very obviousâsigns that he was in love with her, the more parallels you noticed between Ernesto and Gwen and Finn and you.
But that was completely different. You didnât have a crush on Finn. You werenât even exactly friends, how could you be into him based on what little you knew about him? It didnât work like that.
You were starting to think that she brought this up on purpose to try and make you admit to your feelings for her older brotherâto no avail. You couldnât admit to something that wasnât there.
This time, you and Gwen talked so much that you didnât have trouble sleeping. Finn might have been up late again to watch a movie, but you didnât bother checking in. You would have fallen asleep anyway. Besides, you were still trying to figure out what exactly had happened last time and why you were kind of fond of him suddenly. You didnât need more late night events to make you question your feelingsâand your sanity.
âWhere were you last night?â Finn asked teasingly the moment you walked into the kitchen.
âIn bed, as should you,â you replied, glancing at him as you poured some juice into your glass.
He stood up from the table and leaned against the counter next to you, arms crossed as he opened his mouth to speak. When you turned to him to listen to what he had to say, he pressed his lips together again and walked past you to rinse off his plate. Mildly disappointed by the silence, you went to sit down as Gwen came along.
The days passed and nothing really changed. Finn still stopped to chat with you when you crossed his path and you still visited your best friend as much as she visited you, although you had to admit you were slightly more excited to visit her place all of a sudden.
Gwen had told you to come to this diner where you hung out on occasion for milkshakes and waffles or pancakes after school and of course you followed her invitation. She had said she wanted to discuss her outfit for the Duran Duran concert with you.
When you got there, you walked straight to the booth the two of you always occupied when you were here. But the person who was sitting there today was neither a stranger nor your best friend. It was Finn. He was gazing out the window, wearing his headphones as usual. You were confused. Maybe Gwen would come late. Then again, she was never late and she had no reason to be late today as you had just seen each other in the last class.
âHi Finn,â you said and he turned his head, eyes sparkling for a second before he concealed it with a glance down at his walkman as he turned the music off and put his headphones away.
âHey! What are you doing here?â he asked.
âI⊠have a date.â You didnât know why you had said that. Technically, it was a dateâwith a friend. Did you want to impress him? If yes, that was probably the wrong way to go about it if you liked him. But who ever said you liked him?
The look on his face was almost similar to the one he had given you every time he had seen you up until that movie night of yours. He stayed silent for a moment, briefly looking away as he asked, surprise mixing in his voice with something you couldnât pinpoint. âWith whom?â
âGwen,â you said quickly, saving the situation.
Finn raised his head again and smiled, a nervous frown appearing on his forehead. He motioned for you to sit down and you took a seat across the table from him. âWho told you to come here?â
âGwen,â he groaned, throwing his head back against the red leather backrest.
Unable to suppress a chuckle, you looked outside towards the parking lot. âDo you think sheâs coming?â
âNo.â He reached for the menu card and scanned the first page. âAre you hungry?â
Relieved that he didnât decide to leave when it became clear that both of you had been sent here thinking it would be a one-on-one meeting with Gwen, you nodded. Practically, she had set you up on a date after realizing that nothing would unfold between you two on its ownâor not. This location wasnât romantic enough for it to actually be considered a date. Maybe in Grease but not nowadays. Or she had picked this diner on purpose to make her plan less obvious because why would she have told her friend and her brother to go to a fancy restaurant to see her?
Finn pushed the menu into the center of the table and you both leaned forward to read this weekâs specials. Neither of you seemed to be bothered by the fact that there was a second one in the menu card holder next to the window. Your heads must have been almost touching, but you didnât dare to look up from the laminated sheet.
âReally? I hate that dish,â Finn asked incredulously when you announced what you were going to order.
âWell, have you tried it?â The moment you lifted your head to look at him, he quickly sat back on the bench.
âNo,â he answered. âBut I know that canât taste good.â
You shot him an annoyed glance. âAlright, Iâll order it, whether you like it or not, and then youâll try it. If you still hate it, I respect your wrong opinion. If you like it, I told you so.â
A smile tugged at his lips. âDeal.â
The smile lingered for too long, as did his soft gaze that seemed to study your face. You couldnât help but return the smile. After what felt like minutes, you turned away to signal to the waitress that you wanted to order, yet even when you werenât looking at Finn, you felt his eyes follow your every move.
Only when a girl with a âCindyâ name tag approached your table to take your order, he was brought back into the real world. She had a knowing look on her face as her eyes wandered back and forth between you and Finn. âAny dessert?â
You frequented this diner enough to know that all teenagers who went on dates here ordered dessert and if they didnât, the waitresses would offer their special chocolate cake, which you sometimes had the impression was reserved for couples based on how many of them got it and how many singles didnât. Whether Finn knew that too was a different question.
He cleared his throat and asked, âUh, yeah? What do you recommend?â
You swiftly turned your head to look at him with a shocked expression, yet your heart started beating faster in your chest. This meant nothing at all. He was probably just feeling like having something sweet.
âChocolate cake with raspberries.â
âSounds good,â he nodded.
Cindy tucked her notebook into her pocket and winked at you before she left. Finn frowned, trying to read your expression. âDid I say something wrong?â
âNo, everythingâs good,â you assured him with a smile.
Over the course of your conversation, you found out that you didnât know nearly as much about him as you had thought. Obviously, you had heard a lot from Gwen or what people at school and in the local media had to say, but all that was different than hearing it from Finn himself.
In return, he probably hadnât known as much about you either despite his sister surely talking about you enough in the past couple of years. Another question was whether he had even listened or if he just hadnât cared enough to remember. If some of your anecdotes had sounded familiar, he would have interrupted you. Instead, he listened intently and asked questions. He seemed interested in you, which you had never thought you would say about him.
Strangely, this afternoon did feel like a date. You asked about each other, talked about yourselves and tried some of the otherâs food. The only difference was that there was no flirtingânothing you registered as such, that is. Although there were stolen glances, longer eye contact than what felt comfortable for friends, short breaths that were probably intended to be followed by a few words but ended in lips pressed together and eyes turning away, Finn made you feel like you were nothing more than his sisterâs best friend who had slowly become his friend as well. Then the next minute, he crossed his arms and leaned closer as he made a teasing remark that made your mouth go dry.
What the hell did he feel for you now?
Nonetheless, you were convinced that Gwenâs plan had worked to some extent. While she seemed frustrated when she noticed you were still strictly friends after this meeting at the diner, you and Finn had gotten to know each other better than you would have if your interactions had been limited to brief chats when you came over or the three of you happened to go to her place together after school. You thought she might have been able to tell that you and her brother had indeed grown closer than previously, but apparently, that wasnât enough for her.
She wanted to see you two dating. And she wasnât alone with that wish.
One day, Finn realized. What he felt was certainly not nothing. It was a crush. And at this point, he was in love with you.
It should have been easy to confess to you now that he was aware of what his feelings meant, but it wasn't, and even if it had been, he would have rather kept quiet.
You were his little sister's best friend and had been for quite a while. The two of you were thicker than thieves and he was genuinely happy for Gwen that she had someone to talk to and spend time with outside of the family, someone who didnât judge her and always stood behind her. She deserved that after all she had been through, even if his jealousy sometimes went in the way of openly showing it.
If he started dating you, it would definitely put a strain on you and Gwen's friendship. Aside from you possibly spending more time with him than with her, he knew he was not easy to handle and a breakup wasn't out of the question. It never was, but especially with someone like him. This would ruin your friendship for certain, even if it was nobody's fault directly. There would always be an air of guilt and bitterness if you and Finn crossed paths, and he wasn't sure if Gwen could look past that entirely.
He thought you were a good role model for his sister and he didn't want that to change if you got together with him. To some extent, one was always influenced by their partner's lifestyle, which wasn't necessarily a dream in his case.
There were countless reasons why he was reluctant to even give you a hint at how he felt for you, but more than anything else, he worried about the consequences of a possible relationship between him and you. Things were fine as they were, so why ruin it for everyone? He could live with it staying the way it was right now.
Gwen spontaneously asked you to come to her place once againâon a day of which you were pretty sure was the date for the Duran Duran concert she had planned to attend with Ernesto, although perhaps you just mixed the days up. Either way, you showed up as requested, ringing the doorbell to be faced with Finn. âHey there,â he said more cheerfully than you were used to.
âHi, is Gwen here?â A question that had normally been answered with some snarky remark about how she lived here and of course she was here if you had been invited.
âNo, sheâs out with Ernesto,â he mumbled, clearly unsatisfied that he couldnât come with them to make sure Ernesto didnât make any advances towards his sister.
âHm. She asked me to come over⊠Bye then, sorry.â
You were turning to leave when Finn said, âHey hey, you can stay. If you want.â
He stepped aside to let you into the house, leaning against the closed door as he looked at you for a little too long. âAnd do what?â you asked, breaking the awkward silence.
Finn shrugged and grabbed his jacket from the coathanger in the corridor. âWanna go to the movies?â
As you couldnât think of anything better and the excitement in his eyes was too obvious to say no, you agreed. The walk to the cinema was long enough to be more comfortable if he could drive, but it was also an opportunity to talk without feeling embarrassed because you were both looking at the sidewalk and the buildings in front of yourselves rather than into each otherâs eyes.
Once you reached your destination, he held the door open, letting you slip through under his outstretched arm. âAnd another bonding moment,â he smiled. âBeen too long.â
âThis is becoming a tradition,â you remarked while you stood in the lobby of the cinema and took in all the movie posters.
Finn looked at you over his shoulder from where he was waiting to order popcorn and cola. âHorror again, in accordance with tradition?â
âSure, why not?â
âGood, I already have tickets,â he grinned.
So much for spontaneity. This must have been another one of Gwenâs schemes, seemingly this time in cooperation with Finn. Were you really the only one who needed some convincing?
You remembered how you yourself had kept telling Gwen that going to the cinema was definitely a date. The spontaneous late night flick, on the other hand, was something different. But now you were at the movies together with Finnâsomething he had suggestedâand you couldnât deny your theory that this was the place for a first date wasnât too far-fetched. The intimacy of sitting in the dark without speaking, watching a movie you both found interesting, sharing popcorn or nachos, sitting close together in a sometimes near-empty theater.
Of course, what you two were here for wasnât a date. You simply thought that in any other context, this setting had potential for a romantic outing. Not with Finn, though. You were just the friend of his sister whom he hadnât wanted to send home immediately after walking to his house in hopes of Gwen being there.
The film choice alone wasnât very romantic. Finn had picked The Thing.
The theater wasnât at all crowded for this time of day, but maybe more teens chose Gwen and Ernestoâs path and opted for a Duran Duran concert rather than a screening of a movie they could see any other day. As expected, Finn picked two seats in the back row. Either it was his usual way of taking up a lot of spaceâas you had found out while watching TV at his houseâor it was one of those couple seats which explained why you and Finn were sitting so close next to each other.
He plopped down in his seat and offered you some popcorn.
âYou know, IâŠâ he started, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes, your lips, his hands, and the red seats in front of you. You looked at him expectantly. Was he going to confess? There was a certain softness in his eyes as he finished his sentence. âIâm glad I donât have to go to the movies alone.â
Hesitating for a second, you smiled at him. âI can only say the same.â
You had a feeling this was not what he had wanted to say, but who were you to try and read his thoughts? Perhaps you just wished he would confess when that had actually never crossed his mind.
Soon after, the movie started and you could feel Finnâs gaze shifting from the screen towards you on occasion. When you turned to confirm your assumption, he either quickly looked away or stared at you even longer until it was awkward, yet neither of you immediately broke eye contact.
Finnâs eyes lit up in fascination during the bloody scenes. You knew he loved practical effects in movies and you were mentally preparing for a speech about the cinematography afterwardsânot that you would mind.
The paranoia seeped through the screen and you excitedly followed along. You hadnât heard anything about this movie before, except that it was supposedly good and you had on one hand hoped it would live up to yourâadmittedly vagueâexpectations because you might have felt stupid for not liking a popular movie, on the other hand you hadnât cared much about whether it would be good in advance because sitting in a dark room with Finn as some sort of revival of the first night you had actually talked and spent time together would have been enjoyable enough for you.
At a later point during the movie, Finn shifted in his seat and moved his arm as if he wanted to put it around you. You only felt his fingertips graze your shoulder, but your slight twitch at the sudden yet welcome touch must have made him retract his hand and instead place it on top of the backrest of your seat, making it look like that had been his only intention all along.
Eventually, the lights went on again and to your surprise, Finn remained in his position for another few minutes as he emptied his cup of cola. Neither did you move as you ate some more popcorn before deciding to take the rest home. âReady?â he asked, looking down at you and stealing another handful of popcorn from the bucket.
As expected, Finn philosophized about the puppets, the effects, the lighting, the atmosphereâand you happily listened and engaged. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his elbows were constantly touching yours as you left the cinema and he looked as enthusiastic as ever and like he was genuinely having a good time.
âAnd you stayed awake! Weâre making progress,â he teased, poking your cheek with his finger.
You nudged his side with your elbow and chuckled. âShut up.â
âIâm proud of you, really.â He tried to keep his voice steady, but you couldnât take it seriously.
Finn was facing you, towering over you with one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other placed against the wall behind you. He stayed silent, only blinking occasionally but never breaking eye contact. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze wandered down to your lips.
The sight of him like this gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. You hated to refer to it as butterflies because that sounded too romantic and cheesy. But then again, you had never felt like this if you hadnât thought of someone romantically.
His curls were falling into his face, his usually clenched jaw was relaxed, the neon light left a pink streak on the side of his nose, his eyes on you didnât feel mean but rather soft. He looked handsome, even in this casual outfit and with slightly tousled hair.
Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned in, anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours and his hands would rest on your cheeks or waist. But they didnât.Â
When you didnât feel his warm breath against your skin, your eyes shot open. His body stiffened and he looked down at you before his eyes darted back and forth between the ground and the movie posters next to you as he started to speak.
âMaybe we shouldnât.â His voice was a hoarse whisper and it sounded less stern than hesitant, as if he had started the sentence before knowing what to say.
Your breath was shaky as you nodded and zipped up your jacket to break the silence that was already uncomfortable. Then you moved to walk in the direction where you had come from, wordlessly because you were afraid if you said a single word, you would break out in tears.
Finn followed, even as you crossed the street to make your way to your own place. Technically, you could have taken the same route for a while longer until you would have parted a few blocks before your destination, but you wanted to be alone as soon as possible. Or maybe not necessarily alone, just somewhere he wasnât.
âYou donât have to. I can go home by myself,â you said in the most casual tone you could muster without a quivering lip.
âI want to,â he replied so quietly you werenât sure at first if you had heard it correctly, but right now you didnât care enough to ask him to repeat it anyway.
The walk home was very quiet. Too quiet for your taste, so that you would have rather had both of you go home separately. But Finn kept walking by your side, neither of you starting a conversation. You because you were more upset than you would have ever liked to admit to anyone, not to yourself, not to Gwen, and definitely not to Finn. He because⊠You didnât know what his reason was. Hopefully he felt guilty or ashamed, at least on the same level as you did right now. Perhaps he didnât want to say something to make it even worse. It was better that way.
More than occasionally, you thought you felt him staring at you, but whenever you looked up at him just to see from the corner of your eye if you were right, he immediately turned away. Just like earlier, only in a more heartbreaking context.
Finally, you arrived in front of your house, the last rays of sunshine peeking through the tree in your neighborâs yard. For the first time since that moment in front of the cinema, you really looked at him. You didnât know why, probably because you expected an apology, or an explanation, or something to make up for what had happened half an hour ago.
There was something in his eyes, something you had seen a glimpse of before but never this clearly. If you didnât know any better, you might have thought he was going to say something romantic. This was the look Ernesto had when he was with Gwen and it was obvious that he would confess right then and there, but there always seemed to be too many people around for his taste.
In you and Finnâs case, there was nobody around, so nothing could have stopped him from saying what was on his mindânothing except for his stubbornness and pride. âIt was nice hanging out with you,â he said.
You didnât want to make any assumptions because nobody could read his mind, but again, you were pretty sure these words were not what he had been gazing at you for so long to utter. Yet hearing that broke your heart all over again. You didnât describe a date as âhanging outâ if you didnât just see the other as a friend. Then again, nobody had said it was a date. Still, if he hadnât wanted you to consider it a date, he shouldnât have done all that.
âYeah,â you simply replied after a pause, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you tried as hard as you could to keep yourself from crying.
You turned away from Finn, fearing that he could have read your face too well if you had given him any longer to stare at you. Then you walked down the stone path leading to your front door. For a brief second, you started to turn your head to look back at him but decided against it, instead quietly slipping past the door.
Once you were inside, you watched through the closed blinds to see if he was still there. He was standing on the sidewalk with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, visibly curled into fists, as he stared into space. His jaw was clenched and he reached up to tug at his hair before he left, scraping his knuckles against the fence. If this hadnât been your property, you thought he probably would have kicked over the trashcan or punched the fence.
Even hours later, this failed attempt at kissing him and the silence that followed were eating away at you.
This was the worst possible outcome. Of course, you had thought about this before. God, you had thought about him not reciprocating your feelings more than you had come up with any positive scenarios of the two of you ending up together. It was far from a surprise, but that didnât make it sting in your chest any less. In fact, it hurt even more to have your fears confirmed. It really was an unrequited crush. How could you have been so stupid?
Hopefully, Gwenâs date with Ernesto was better. You needed to get your mind off Finn and everything you had thought he could be to you. On Monday, it would be time to ask her about the concert and avoid any and all questions about today, which you were certain would be asked.
Naturally, you got out of Finnâs way as much as you could from then on. You invited Gwen to hang out anywhere but at her house, either at your place or somewhere in public. Anything to not have to bump into Finn again.
While you didnât let anything out on Gwen and didnât even mention to her what had happened when you had come over upon her request only to find out she wasnât at home, she sensed that something had happened to make you so abruptly cut off contact with her brother with whom you had been so talkative lately.
However, the day came when you couldnât get around it and you finally visited Gwen after she had told you about something she wanted to show you. Swallowing your pride, you knocked at the Blakesâ door, silently praying that either Gwen or her dad would open. But then you saw anotherâunfortunatelyâfamiliar face. It could have been too goodâŠ
âHey, how are you?â Finn asked, putting on a smile, almost as if he was actually glad to see you again.
How dare he act like nothing had happened? Well, nothing had happened, but that was the point.
âFine,â you murmured, going inside and being very careful not to make any contact as you pushed past him.
He closed the door and shuffled on his spot, nervously crossing and uncrossing his arms. âLong time no see, huh?â
âI guess.â With that, you made your way to Gwenâs room, leaving Finn behind. You had nothing to say to him, nothing you could have actually said out loud, at least.
Between you and Gwen, things were excellent and your conversational topics luckily didnât circle around boys like they had in the days following the Duran Duran concert. You werenât sure if you could have talked about your own boy problems when your friend was on cloud nine after Ernesto had officially asked her to be his girlfriendâsomething you had gently pressured him into after he had approached you to ask for advice on how to perfect his courtship.
Despite all this, you didnât stay overnight this time. Sleeping at her house was connected to too many memories of Finn so you wouldnât have been able to get any sleep and might have ended up in the kitchen again where you would have possibly found yourself in a situation like the last time. In the morning, he would have been there too, trying to start conversations you didnât want to have with him, no matter the topic, or he would have stayed quiet, which would have hurt you more.
When you left in the evening, Finn was outside smoking once again. The door opened and he pushed himself away from the wall, putting out his joint and looking like he wanted to speak. You demonstratively turned away and walked in the opposite direction. You still didnât want to talk to him and if it stayed this way, then so be it.
âI think itâs time you finally tell me whatâs up?â Gwen eventually asked, sitting on the swing in your parentsâ backyard. This question was unrelated to what you had been talking about, but you immediately knew what she was referring to.
You groaned, fearing this moment from the day your opinion on Finn had taken a turn. She was good at uncovering secrets whereas you were terrible at hiding secretsâat least when it came to him.
âIâm afraid I like your brother,â you admitted, grimacing. âBut you probably already know thatâŠâ
âFinney?â
âItâs the only brother you have. AnywayâŠâ You began to tell her about everything she had missed. The first movie night during your sleepover when he had confessed that he didnât actually hate you as much as he had acted like in your presence, the small interactions which you had interpreted as something of meaning, the coincidental meeting at the diner when you had found out more about each other and the waitress had mistaken you for a couple without either of you objecting, the cinema date that in the first two thirds had felt as romantic as you had thought it to be in theory.
âYou had a date?â she asked, sounding more excited than shocked. That was your confirmation that he had indeed tried to set you up.
âIt wasnâtâŠâ you sighed. âYeah, it was. But I think I wanted it more than he did, though he suggested going in the first place.â
Gwen frowned. âWait, what do you mean?â
Your tone went from bitter and frustrated to sad. You could have cried at the memory. It was as clear as it had just happened this morning, even if it had been over three weeks by now. âHe didnât want to kiss me,â you whispered, feeling awkward talking about kissing her brother despite the fact that she had asked.
âOh no.â She hugged you. âIâm sorry it didnât work. I gave him the tickets, telling him to go see a movie while Iâm out with Ernie. Iâm just glad he actually asked you to come with him, but I was really hoping that idiot would make a move.â
Wiping your tears away, you smiled helplessly. That explained why he had already had the tickets shortly after your arrival at the theater. âWas the diner your idea too?â
Gwen nodded, clearly annoyed that her elaborate plans to help the two of you get together had failed. âI knew there was something between you and Finn pretty early on. I wanted to see how it unfolds, but nothing would have ever unfolded if I hadnât offered a little help! And now he fucked up entirely!â
âWell, thatâs how it goes sometimes,â you shrugged, actually caring very much and not being fine with it at all. Not wanting to burden her with every thought that had been on your mind since he had rejected you, you left it at that.
âI really donât think thereâs a way around just talking about it with him.â
You shook your head. âHe doesnât want to.â
âHow do you know that? Youâve been ignoring him whenever he tries to talk to you,â she reminded you gently.
âI doubt heâs going for more than polite small talk.â
âHeâs not the type for that at all. When he voluntarily talks to someone, thereâs a reason.â There was a short pause before she spoke up again. âHe asked me about you the other day, before you visited me.â
You swiftly turned your head to look at her. âAbout me?â
Gwen nodded. âI technically canât tell you, but heâs been asking if we still hang out because he hasnât seen you in a while. Once he asked if you ever mentioned him.â
Chewing on your lip, you turned away from the sun that was conveniently shining on your face so you could ponder without needing to look at her. âWhat did you tell him?â
âWell, I told him the truth. You didnât talk about him that much, not concretely.â
You hummed in response, looking back at your friend. âAnd what did he say?â
She smiled. âWhy donât you ask him yourself?â
âNot so fast,â you contradicted, eyes wide in panic. âI need to prepare before I embarrass myself again.â
âDonât worry, I gave him a piece of my mind. Itâll be fine,â she reassured you, looking at her watch. âHow about you come over this Saturday? Finn never has plans anyway, so you two can talk it out.â
Hesitantly, you agreed. âAlright, will you be there too?â
âIâm not sure if he can open up when more people than necessary are around,â she said slowly.
âDid Ernesto ask you out?â you grinned. Hopefully he had, because even though he and Gwen were already dating, he had asked you about a date idea he had for this weekend, which you had enthusiastically approved of.
A blush crept up on her cheeks and she nodded, making your grin widen in return. âYes⊠But I still think it would be a good idea to talk with him alone.â
On one hand, you wanted to drag this out for as long as possible and avoid an honest conversation with Finn. On the other hand, you thought about how much not knowing what was wrong and how he really felt about you had ruined you in the last few weeks.
Sooner than you maybe would have liked, you turned up at the Blakesâ house and rang to have Finn open the doorâthe person you actually came to see this time. His usual frown turned into a relieved smile and in his eyes you could see that he was happy to see you. And secretly you were happy to see him as well.
âOh, hi,â he said, only now realizing he had been lost in thought without saying a word, similarly to you.
âHi, Finn.â A smile tugged at your own lips and you stepped forward as he made space for you to come inside.
âGwen isnât home,â he pointed out, trying his best not to sound overly excited after you had given him the cold shoulder last time he had attempted to start a conversation with you. Why would you even come over to see him and stay after what had happened? Surely you would leave again after finding out Gwen was not here.
âI know,â you said casually, taking your coat off and placing it folded on one of the kitchen chairs. âI wanted to talk to you.â
Finnâs expression was a combination of anxiety regarding what exactly you had to tell him and hope of finally talking to you again, no matter what about, just being given some time of your day. âReally?â he said in a low voice.
You nodded. âIs your dad here?â
âNo, but he should be here in a few minutes.â He glanced out of the window and then back at you, looking you up and down in an attempt to read your body language and interpret whether this talk would be of a positive nature or just to tell him that you didnât want to see him anymoreâto no avail, as you werenât sure either what signals to send as you also didnât know how he would react to what you needed to tell him. âLetâs go somewhere more private.â
Walking past you, Finnâs hand grazed yours. Whether it was accidental or intentional, you werenât sure, but it did leave an electric feeling on your skin. You followed him along the corridor to where his room was. It looked more minimalistic than the last time you had seen it years ago when it had still been occupied by model rockets, science books, magazines and games.
Closing the door behind you, he plopped down on his rotating desk chair and motioned for you to sit on the bed as he had no other piece of furniture for you to use. You assumed he preferred to stay near the door to have the option to leave if he was overwhelmed.
Once you sat down on the edge of his bed, he ran his fingers through his hair and turned to look at you. âIâm sorry.â
You hadnât expected him to speak first, but you were secretly glad he did because you still werenât certain how to approach this topic. You said nothing in response because honestly, it wasnât okay, and anyway, you didnât know what exactly he was apologizing for. Still, you looked at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.
âI know I hurt you when I didnât kiss you back then in front of the cinema. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than that, but I⊠couldnât. I realized I loved you before that and I thought I could give you a real date, but when you wanted to kiss me, I got scared. Itâs just that⊠hell, youâre my sisterâs best friend. I donât want to ruin your friendship by dating you, whether you feel the same or not, or ruin it by breaking up eventually. There were times I wished I had never opened up to you and kept up the hostile facade just so I wouldnât be in this situation. Thatâs why I didnât kiss you. I was afraid of making a huge mistake. It had nothing to do with you or anything you did.â
You swallowed and dragged your bottom lip between your teeth. You had no idea how to respond, but you didnât have to worry about that for long as he continued. What he was saying made no sense to you. If Gwen herself had repeatedly tried to nudge the two of you in each otherâs direction, why was he worried about ruining your friendship with his sister?
âAnd I understand if you donât like me anymore, but I do! I fucking do like you and thatâs what scares me.â
âWho said I donât like you anymore?â you interrupted him.
Finn raised his gaze from the floor up to you, eyes glossy. âDo you think I canât feel it? Every time I tried to chat with you, you ignored me. You stopped visiting. You didnât even talk to Gwen about me. She went for my throat because I fucked up, but I told her you didnât want anything from me. What more was I supposed to do if you wonât even look at me?â
He was beginning to sound accusative, but his speech sounded similar to what you had been planning to say to him. You understood him and that you shouldnât have carried such a grudge against him. Nonetheless, you were not going to take all the blame for how things had become between the two of you.
âWhy do you think Iâve been avoiding you? Iâm in love with you and when I realized you are not, I thought it would go away if I just stayed away from you, but it didnât work. I still love you,â you confessed. âDo you have any idea how much Iâve been plagued by worries about how you even feel for me, if everything I interpreted as signals that you liked me too were imagination, if I had done something wrong, if you ever considered me as more than a friend, or not even that and rather just your little sisterâs friend who you were suddenly kind to in order to keep the peace? There hasnât been a day since then that I didnât think about you and all this.â
If you had been alone, you could have cried, but you didnât want him to interpret it as some kind of manipulation tactic to make him feel guilty, so you took a deep breath and looked out of the window on the other side of the room.
âI love you,â he said quietly, standing up and walking over to you. âAnd Iâm sorry I made you feel like I donât.â
Even as you felt him standing beside you, you didnât turn to look at him. The plain white curtains were much more interesting to you right now than a look into his face that you knew would make your stomach drop if he didnât tell you what you had been dreaming of. âYou canât say this and that youâre scared of your feelings. Either you do or you leave me alone, just tell me what you want.â
âYou. If I left you alone now, Iâd regret it forever and I could never make you come back.â
Finn bent down and rested his hands on either side of your thighs, finally making you lock eyes with him. A smile formed on your lips at the sound of his words and the sight of his face that carried a softness you had never quite seen before like this. The closest it came to were his occasional gazes at the diner and at the cinema right before the movie had started.
âCan I kiss you?â he asked softly. âIf you let me this time.â
âWhat do you mean, âif you let meâ, you didnât want to last time,â you teased, tears pricking in your eyes.
Finn dropped his head, curls falling into his face. His hands pressed deeper into the mattress as he leaned forward and looked up at you again, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. âI know. Can I?â
âYes,â you whispered and closed your eyes in anticipation.
Without hesitation, he at first gently pressed his lips against yours, as if it was some fairytale kiss to wake the princess up. One hand reached up to cup your cheek, keeping you close as he deepened the kiss. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you. Unlike what you had imagined your first kiss to be like, this wasnât innocent and sweet. You could practically feel every single repressed emotion that had been building up in the last couple of months.
Occasional insomnia did bring something good with it sometimes.
