Bad Habit

thirty eight

Finny was shocked.

Well, no, he wasn't. Deep down, he knew the whole time that Moss was in love with him. Maybe not consciously, but a part of him always knew. How could he not? Moss was wildly jealous, overzealously overprotective, and ridiculously possessive of the boy. It made complete sense that he had developed such strong feelings over the course of their friendship. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was hard to say Finny hadn't developed some feelings for Moss as well. Finny had tried so hard to fight the feelings and deny them within himself, but it was starting to feel like there was no use anymore.

Standing alone in the room with Moss, staring at his nervous face, watching as he lifted his thumb to his mouth to bite down on it, Finny finally allowed himself to cave in to his feelings for the boy. It felt like the doors of a dam were opening and flooding every inch of Finny's body with a pink, gooey liquid that forced his entire body to flare up red. He could feel his cheeks warming rapidly, soon feeling as though they were 1000 degrees. Thank fuck it's dark in here, he thought.

Moss, meanwhile, was roughly 30 seconds from throwing up everything he had consumed in the past 3 hours all over Finny's shoes. The lack of response started to eat at him, as did the silence, causing his heart rate to speed up to a dangerous level. He decided to break the silence and stall the inevitable vomit.

"I know, it's a lot," Moss began, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I just, I couldn't keep this in any longer. I know I already said it once, but I was lying when I said I didn't mean it. You don't have to, like, say anything right now, or ever, really. I know you're probably confused or mad and you can punch me or do whatever because I know I've been a massive fuck up lately and I don't deserve to be forgiven, so I'm sorry for even putting this on you, but— wait, is that my shirt?"

Finny would've loved to think he didn't know exactly what to do in that moment. He would've loved to have had to sit down or excuse himself and take the next week or two to mull over Moss' words in order to contemplate his next move. But, no, he didn't need to do any deep thinking. His next move was purely instinctual— it required exactly zero thought. He decided to do what he knew, deep down, he had been wanting to do for ages, but hadn't allowed himself to. He had convinced himself that he didn't want Moss in the same way that Moss wanted him as a means to protect himself and his heart, but in that moment, as he listened to Moss fumble over his words and bite down hard on his thumb, Finny finally gave in. He let all the thoughts he had been suppressing for months run rampant in his mind, which led him to only one option regarding how to respond to Moss: kiss the fuck out of him.

Finny lunged forward, taking Moss' cheeks in his hands before slamming their lips together frantically. Every cell in his body was aching and clamoring for connection, connection that he had been wanting since the very first conversation between the pair in Moss' bedroom. Even though he had kissed his friend before, this was different. There were different circumstances at play now, knowing that Moss was in love with Finny was a game changer. But more presently, Finny was sick of being stuck in his head and forced himself back into the moment where he was finally kissing the boy that he was scared to admit he loved back.

The nausea Moss was suffering from had turned into a flock of butterflies, finally being able to remember how incredible it was to kiss Finny, to be close to him. It was all Moss longed for, all he ever thought about, so much so that he often considered saying fuck it all to his current circumstances and come out just so that he could be with Finny publicly. He wanted to be able to kiss Finny, to touch him, to hold him 24/7, and he wanted everyone to know Finny was his and only his. Of course, Finny wasn't really his, but he wanted him to be more than he had wanted anything in his entire life. And in these moments where he was able to kiss his friend, he allowed himself to truly imagine being Finny's. For so long, his entire life actually, Moss feared the part of himself that threatened to reveal the fact that he was gay. He prided himself on being able to hide that part of himself and parade as a straight man, but when he was with Finny, he hardly cared about that. In fact, when he was with Finny, he wanted everyone to know just how gay, in love, and happy he was. Finny had become the center of Moss' universe, the most important piece of his broken life.