i firnly believe that any time finney has sex he's in some way reenacting what the grabber did. like mentally or thematically or, very rarely, literally. most of the time the roles are reversed because he needs to take comfort in not being the victim again.
but every once in a while, he and ernesto will be fucking or he's sucking ernestos dick or something and suddenly hes 13 again. and after its over, finney has the biggest break down of all time. but in the moment its Really Hot and finney cant stop feeling guilty about it
ernesto doesnt know about it, he just thinks finney is Strange lmao
finney doesn’t dream weird shit, that’s stuff is reserved for his sister, used to be his mother’s thing. what finn has is much worse, he doesn’t need some made up involuntary hallucinations to make him think fucked up shit, he does that all fine on his own.
in fact, as corny as it sounds, finney was always the type to dream awake. he remembers being seven and thinking of his favorite tv show every time he got some peace and quiet, how when he got older and smarter he thought of space instead. people underestimate how much there is to know and learn about space, an endless magical resource for finney’s getaways. then, after, everything was different, but not really.
it probably was sick how much he thought of it, you know, it. but there was never much to do, and in his head it all sounded better. in his head he replays it over and over and convinces himself he is in it again, so the next time someone at school makes him feel even an ounce of fear, he raises his hand, and doesn’t even step back and forward before he swings. the narrative changes after that, because finney is finn now, so things must be different like they were always that way instead of the truth. he daydreams of not flinching away when he enters, of snapping and mouthing off, of making a huge mess with things that were never in the basement. he thinks of not crying, of fighting back and scratching, he thinks of not letting him.
he also thinks of when he let him. and changes it again. in reality it hurt so bad he passed out, he cried and made weird sounds and was so scared his breathing was like yelling. but when finn plays it in his mind, he is quiet, still in the unbothered way, or maybe just not scared. he refuses to meet his eyes and does not beg, does not feel anything when he finally does it. except thats not it, thats not right. so he replays it again, changes it again. and again and again.
like he said, its probably sick how much he thinks about it, how much he changes it into something he can swallow. how much he now desires to swallow it whole, let it wash over him and not hurt, feel it from the inside and be satisfied when its over.
it does not start with ernesto, and will certainly not end with him. but he helps, or makes it worse. ernesto wears the faces of two people at all times, and sometimes, when finn gets in too deep, he sees a third one on him, one with a mask he cannot break. but will not let it break him either.
its starts with robin, of his memory, but admitting what he does with the robin of his head feels far worse than admitting this, so he seeks out ernesto instead, and then convinces himself he is the one to blame. because depending on how you tell a story, depending on how many times to twist it and change the details and try it again is what you get. the actual happening does not matter, because it already happened and it will never happen again, what matters is the memory.
so, if anyone were to ask, the story starts when ernesto was looking at him. and finn isn’t stupid, he knows when people are looking at him, especially when the look conveys that they want him. he knows, he always knows. so it starts when ernesto was looking at him, and people always look at him, wanting what they can’t have. ernesto was no different, except he had two faces. so finn couldn’t be possibly be to blame. he does ernesto a favor, he takes it further with him than with anybody else. he smiles and pretends he could maybe be there, instead of somewhere else they could never touch. he uses his mouth instead of his hand and is not cruel to him after.
he learns what ernesto likes, and likes it with him. he views it in a split screen, the memory and the happening. he is in control. until he is not.
ernesto is crying, his glasses just besides his head as his face is half pressed into the bed, eyes screw shut as his cheek stays in place while the force of finn makes him go up and down. finn doesn’t ever realize until ernesto opens his mouth to take a breath, and a gut wrenching sob comes out instead. ernesto makes a sound almost inhumane as his face tries to part from the bed but the movement seems too much for him and ends up pressing himself harder against it. his hip rises like he wants to get up or meet finn halfway there, like he doesn’t know the difference.
finn puts more distance between his chest and ernesto’s back, but ernesto calls out on a broken tone to not stop. his voice almost sounds childlike. finn likes it, the split on the screen is broken and the memory takes over. with an open mouth huffing out short breaths finn shuts his eyes and replays it again. he remembers how this goes. his hand sneaks up against ernesto’s hair and pushes his face completely against the mattress, making his body bend over slightly more to him while he slightly chokes on the lack of air, his face and who he is does not matter. only his body, only the moment, only the memory.
finn is thirteen years old, he is seventeen, he is Him. and this is a tale as old as time for him, he welcomes it like coming home.
he leans down to ernesto’s ear and whispers how he would never do something he wouldn’t like. ernesto shivers and keeps on crying, his arms move clumsily looking for release and instead knock the glasses off the bed. he twitches and grows louder and won’t stop moving, finn thinks he might like it. both of them. but he does not ask.
after it is over he leaves ernesto on his bed, goes to the kitchen to bring him something, like He used to do, whats right to do. but he is frozen when he sees the differences of the kitchens, and stands there in the middle of it not knowing whether to drop to his knees and touch himself or to cut himself or ernesto up with the kitchen knives. he shakily walks up to the counter and grips the first knife he sees, he closes his eyes again and gulps down the heaviness on his throat that won’t go away, no matter how hard he always tries to swallow. he imagines pressing the knife against himself and make himself grow hard, he imagines himself marching up to his own room where ernesto is and giving him the scare of his life, knowing his mind is still processing something that was supposed to be about pleasure. he thinks of mixing it all up until there isn’t a difference in anything.
he lets the knife go with shaky hands and pukes all over the sink, he is still half hard.
vaporwave
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