My contribution to the tiny boat that is the Finchal ship. Read it here on ao3
The english finch hc belongs to the wonderful @newseizes ily chloe, and this ship wouldn’t have existed without the lovely @hispanicjackkelly thank you isa. this is also inspired by this video
Now without further ado, Hiding My Heart
Finch pushes open the door of Dowd's Records and Music, the bell above it signaling his arrival. The store is warm against the chill outside and the walls are covered in shelves of records and CDs. It already feels like home.
“Hi and welcome to Dowd's. Can I help you find anything?” The guy behind the counter looks up from his laptop screen and smiles at Finch, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.
Finch’s stomach does a weird little flip as he smiles back, “I'm good, but thank you.”
The boy seems taken back by Finch's accent, but the shock fades when he says, “Sweet, just yell if you need anything.”
Finch wanders around the store looking for another album to add to his collection or a new song to cover for his blog, and he's definitely not stealing glances at the snapback wearing employee with the nice arms.
He flips through the bin nearest the checkout counter. Finch is definitely aware of the gaze that's burning into his back, but he doesn't turn around, even though he desperately wants to. Instead he pulls out an interesting looking vinyl. It's titled Manhattan and that's enough incentive for Finch to buy it.
He places it on the counter, smiling at the employee who's name tag reads Albert.
“Is that all?” Albert cracks a smile as he closes his laptop.
“Yeah,” Finch says, his accent a little more pronounced than usual, his nerves getting the better of him, “is this one any good?”
Albert studies the album as he rings it up, “I'd say so, they're a good band. If you're an indie rock person.” The way Albert says it makes Finch think there's more meaning to it than just liking a genre of music.
“I’m definitely an indie rock person.” Finch hopes his own meaning gets across.
He thinks it does because Albert smiles bigger as he hands Finch the bag, “I hope you visit us again.”
“I’ll definitely be back, it's a nice place you got.” Finch throws another look around the store before his gaze lands back on Albert. “Definitely worth coming back.”
Albert's face goes red up to his fiery hair. “Well, umm, see you around.”
“See you around.” Finch does all he can to not scream as he exits the store because he just did that. He just flirted with a cute guy. A cute guy who flirted back. His pan heart can't handle this, it's going to explode.
Finch all but runs back to his dorm. As he barges into the room he's met with Race and Spot making out on the formers bed.
“Get a different room you two, I need to record another vid and you two making out won't help.” Finch isn't phased at this point and he's definitely walked in on worse, more risque situations.
“Would ya mind knocking next time?” Race twists so he can glare at Finch from his slightly compromising position.
“It's my room too, I don't need to knock. Why don't you two go down to Spot's instead.” Finch drops his bag on his bed, already reaching for his guitar.
Race grumbles as he takes his boyfriend's hand and pulls them both out the door. Slamming it behind them.
Finally alone Finch strums a few chords, his guitar is still in tune thankfully. He runs through a few warm up exercises before grabbing his laptop.
He pulls up his browser that’s still logged into his blog. He has another ask in his inbox.
Anonymous said: Your last cover blew me away, I love Paramore, but you made it something special. You have such a nice voice and the way you play the guitar is simply breathtaking. ~🎶
Finch smiles at this, his cheeks going a little red. He’s been getting these messages for a few weeks now, and they always make his day. But what he really wants to know who the person sending them is. Finch realizes he might be being the tiniest bit hypocritical since the way he films his videos his audience never sees his face, only from his shoulders down. He doesn't even have his age or anything in the bio, only his nickname and pronouns. Another thing that helps is that his accent virtually disappears when he sings, giving another layer of anonymity.
But this has been eating at him for at least a week. And he still doesn't know who this fan is. All he has on the cute anon are bits and pieces. They’re a fan of indie and alt rock. They love Finch’s soft blue hoodie. They know a lot about music, instrumental and vocal. And they always sign their asks with a music notes emoji. Finch isn’t sure if it’s possible to like someone with so little known about them, but that doesn’t quell the surge of happiness he feels whenever he sees a message from them.
Smiling he types out a response.
Thank you so much for the compliments, I'm really glad you liked it. Maybe if you messaged off anon you could get a special request for my next cover.
Finch knows it's a risky move, but he's going insane with not knowing. And before he can think better of it he hits the blue post button and hopes for the best.
Now with that out of the way he checks on the rest of his blog. Finch has to do a double take when he sees that his follower count has almost doubled since he last looked, he has almost a thousand people that like what he does, that like his music. That like him.
He doesn't get to filming anything, instead opting to practice a few riffs that aren't quite perfect yet. The quiet of the room is also calming, something he doesn't get a lot of. Finch gets lost in his music. His mind wandering to the cute guy at the record shop as his fingers test out new patterns. A song comes to mind and he knows it'll be his next cover.
Albert has his earbuds in when Pretty English Guy walks into Dowd's for the second time a few days later. He pauses Finch's most recent video in favor of striking up a conversation.
“What brings you in today?” He smiles at the brunet.
“I need some new strings for my guitar, do you have those?” Albert could listen to this guy talk all day. He has an english accent, but it's not one of those posh over the top ones. It's subtle, as if it's been worn down at the edges by the start of a new york one.
“Yeah, they're back here.” Albert leads them both back to the instrumental section of the store.
“Thanks,” English Guy looks through the display of strings, finally settling on the one he wants. “These should do it.”
He looks up and catches Albert's stare. His face splits into a smile. “I’m Patrick if you were wondering.”
“Albert, but you could probably tell that.” Albert laughs nervously as he gestures to his name tag, still leaning against the display.
“Nice to meet you Albert.” And if Albert wasn't screwed before, he definitely is now because the way Patrick says his name is doing things to his insides.
“I, uh, if you need anything I'll be up front.” Albert curses his own awkwardness, he's never like this, why is this guy any different?
“Okay, I'm gonna stay back here a bit longer, mess around on the guitars for a bit.” Patrick makes for the acoustic guitars on the back wall, the new strings tucked into his back pocket. Albert doesn't know this because he is definitely not staring at Patrick's ass.
Before Albert can be any more awkward he darts back to the front desk and his paused video. He's about to start it up again when he hears the strum of a guitar, Patrick's testing out a few chords.
Albert keeps his earbuds out, maybe this guy is good.
A soft melody drifts up from the back of the shop, it's a slow song. Albert rests his head in his hands, happy to just let the calming sound fill the space. Patrick's really good.
Then Patrick starts singing.
“This is how the story went, I met someone by accident. And they blew me away, blew me away.”
And Albert's stomach drops. He would know that voice anywhere. It's Finch. It has to be.
“It was in the darkest of my days, when you took my sorrow and you took my pain, and buried them away, you buried them away.”
His heart soars, like every time he hears Finch sing. But as always, the song is over too soon and Patrick is walking over to the counter to buy his new strings.
“You're really good,” Albert says, watching as Patrick's ears turn pink.
“Nah, it's nothing compared to what other people can do.” He shoves his hands into the pocket of his blue sweatshirt. Albert realizes it's the same hoodie that's made numerous appearances in Finch's videos.
“I’m serious, you're amazing. I know tons of people who can't hold a candle to that.” Albert hands him the strings, making sure their fingers brush.
Patrick gives him a shy smile, their fingers are still touching. “That means a lot actually, thanks.”
“I give credit when credit is due.” Albert is sure Patrick can hear how fast his heart is beating as he pulls his hand away.
He finally allows himself to breathe once Patrick is out the door. He just met Finch. He just met the guys he's been slowly falling for, for the past month. He can't believe it.
Finch is trying to work on his essay, he really is, but his phone keeps buzzing with notifications. Sighing in frustration he picks up the offending device. There's the usual emails from classmates, texts from Race, and a few Tumblr notes. But what makes him do a double take is the message from another blog.
He can't open the app fast enough, maybe today is the day he finds out who the cute anon is, since they didn't leave a comment on his last video.
Finch almost drops his phone.
skatersandscales: i don't know how to say this without sounding like a total creep, but, i think i know who you are and that's why im messaging off anon as a fair trade, my identity for yours. and if you'd be up for it, maybe we could talk? like in person? only if youre up for that ofc. and im just gonna stop there before i make an even bigger fool of myself and regret this ~🎶
Finch can't believe it, he clicks to the blog as fast as he can.
It's a mixture of a music, Spotify playlists and different pieces of music history, and a few videos of people doing cool skateboarding tricks. There's also a lot of positivity posts with a smattering of selfies.
Selfies of a face he knows.
This time he does drop the phone.
He scrolls back to the top of the blog, how did he not think to look at the bio? How?
And there, in nice grey letters:
Finch throws everything haphazardly into his bag and bolts from the library, he needs to get to Dowd's. He can make it before closing if he runs. Finch takes off in a dead sprint.
He makes it to the shop in record time, thanks to a year and a half of track in high school. He checks the time on his phone, ten minutes to closing. He takes a breath to steady himself and his aching lungs. Breathing normally he steps inside.
“We have ten minutes ‘til closing, so you better be quick,” Albert says without looking from where he shelving a new shipment of CDs, his back to the door.
“Well I was hoping I'd get to talk to you, I saw your message.” Finch feels his cheeks heat.
Albert whirls around, his hat almost falling off his head. “It is you,” He breathes out.
“It’s me.” Finch scuffs his foot when Albert just keeps staring. “Is there something on my face?”
“No, no, it's just. I can't believe you came.” Albert's blush rivals the shade of his hair.
“Me too honestly, I didn't know if you were working today or not, and I should have probably messaged you back before running here, but I just couldn't wait and -” Finch rambles until Albert puts a hand on his arm. He looks up and Albert's face is so close to his he can see the faint freckles dusting Albert's nose.
“I'm glad you came,” Albert says, his gaze focused solely on Finch.
Finch is at a loss for words, he's found out that the person he's been ever so slowly falling for is the same guys he's been crushing on for a month, he's more than a little tongue tied. His eyes dart down to Albert's lips, leaning forward ever so slightly.
Nothing could've prepared Finch for the warmth that flows through him. It's heart racing, head spinning, stomach fluttering perfect. The shop drops away and it's just him and Albert. Albert places a tentative hand on his hip, the other moving from Finch's arm to his cheek. Finch's hands find the front of Albert's flannel, gripping it for dear life. They kiss for what's probably longer than decent, before Albert pulls back slightly.
“Hi.” Albert smiles, dimples appearing in both cheeks.
“Hi.” Finch smiles back, head fuzzy.
“Maybe I should take you out for a date before we go any further?” Albert asks, “I know a nice little cafe where I could convince my friend to give us a discount.”
“I would like that.” Finch presses a kiss to Albert's cheek.
They leave the store, hands brushing before finally lacing together.
