Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Twenty

AN: Oops, another chapter filled with random scenes that have no plot and much nothingness :)

No seriosuly, this is probably one of the worst chapters. Like, I enjoyed writing the first part, but after a while I was just like 'even I wouldn't like this chapter if I was reading it'. But ho hey I guess.

However, if you're a new reader, I suggest you DON'T read this chapter first cause it's feels a bit weird. Go read it from chapter one cause then you'll get the story :)

Caysie. x 

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Chapter Twenty

"So, tell us everything," Joel enthused, much rather like a teenage girl after something exciting happened, as he climbed into the back seat of Timothy's tiny car.

Finlay smirked and raised his eyebrows, teasing Joel, as he set the seat back into its proper position and proceeding to swoop into the car.

The walk to Timothy's car from the hospital building had possibly been the longest walk ever. Timothy had apparently been unable to find any spaces upon his arrival, so resorted to parking in a nearby street. When Finlay had looked around, however, there had been so many gaps in between cars that he could have fit into. Then again, he was not one to say anything since he hadn't a clue how it looked an hour ago.

That, and the fact that Finlay refused to tell them everything until they could talk properly, dragged out the walk, so they stayed in silence. The anticipation of whatever news was coming evidently made Joel very stirred, for he was smiling and adding a certain spring in his step. Finlay had actually thought numerous times, on their journey to the car, that he could actually hear Joel's breathing quicken over and over.

"Patience, Joel. Jesus," Timothy grinned through the opposite back window and shook his head. 

Finlay sat still in his seat and was staring at the empty space beside him in which Timothy would occupy any second.

"I won't tell you anything if you don't shut up," he muttered, then twisted his neck over to view Joel behind him and gave him a smile to cancel out the harsh tone in his voice.

Timothy gracefully fell into the nearby seat and pulled the door closed behind them, leaving all three of them in the tiny enclosed space, "where we heading?"

"No, we're staying right here," Joel's head emerged from the back so it was in-line with the other two men, like there was a middle seat in the front, "until you tell us what went on."

"Joel," Finlay shifted around, free of any seatbelt at the moment, "what are you expecting to hear?"

"I dunno," he trailed, "exciting stuff. Or more importantly, information about why he's actually in there."

"That I'll tell you," he turned back around to face the windscreen in front, then pushed his tongue in his cheek and said, "but on the way to Jay's flat."

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Jay lived, like Finlay and Ryan, on the third floor of a block of flats. Well, Jay's was more like a towering building, but none of them had actually been up further than his floor. This was a fortunate thing, since the elevator never worked. In the seven years that Finlay had known Jay, he'd never once been inside that elevator. At times, he liked to believe that it wasn't actually there at all, and that someone had just put the doors there to trick and annoy everyone.

Of course the lack of elevator meant that all three of them found themselves trudging up the stairwell as they always did, but they were thankful that he was only a little way up. They had actually told him once that if he had resided any further up than seven floors, that he'd have to visit all of them because there was no way anyone was climbing the fourteen sets of stairs. They were all too lazy for it. Jay had  even said himself that he wouldn't leave his flat if he had to run down that many every day.