Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Twenty-Three

AN: So the majority of this chapter has been completely written in the busiest Starbucks known to man. It's not anything overly exciting to be honest.

I can feel a woman breathing over my shoulder as I type.

And yes, she did see that. She's now turned around pretending I don't exist.

So enjoy the chapter, hopefully as much as I'm enjoying this chicken and cheese panini.

Caysie. x

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Chapter Twenty-Three

The faint smell of lavender diffused gently into the breath Finlay took and greeted him softly as his eyes opened. He inhaled it in slowly, savouring it for lavender was a beautiful scent to him and exhaled loudly, practically hearing how the air around him swirled.

He had just spent another night of not sleeping, instead thinking way too much into things that needn't be thought about in general. Not everything had been irrelevant though, he had considered many ways that today could pan out. A very important time of their lives was occurring in just a few short hours.

Today was the day a dear friend and relative would be put to rest by those who love her. Today was the day of Hayley's funeral.

The lavender had disappeared now, leaving Finlay with only a harsh sting in his nose from breathing too hard.

Since he had no covers at all on top of him, getting out of bed was swift and easy. His legs draped over the edge and supported his body as soon as he pushed up, it was almost like he was in a hurry.

A slightly-too-large tshirt was draped over the desk opposite the foot of the bed, and Finlay quickly pulled it over his head. It obsured his vision, and he couldn't see at all, only when his left arm got caught in the material. As he pulled the material roughly to let his arm escape, he gazed over to the half of the bed that had no creases in the smooth covers, and the sudden urge to roll around on the perfect surface pulsed through him. Just to mess it up and make both sides equal.

As he walked past that side though, he pushed the desire back down his body, and carefully edged the bedroom door open, wearing only the large tshirt and his briefs.

Straight away Finlay could see the lone male figure hunched over the kitchen table. A loose red jumper was hanging off his limbs, and was much too big on him. In fact, it was so large on him that it made Finlay question why he even ownded it. The sleeves flowed on to the table and even reached the purple aerosol standing freely on the surface. Lavender air-freshener.

He paused at the door for a moment, noticing that even in a hunch, the man's posture still looked quite smooth and elegant.

Slowly, he edged closer until he was within reaching distance of the small coffee table that blocked the door, the one joining the kitchen and the bathroom.

"Morning," Ryan didn't look up and mumbled strangely, most likely due to the pen he had half-shoved in his mouth, twisting it and pushing it around with his tongue.

"Morning," Finlay repeated in the exact same tone as Ryan, "feeling okay?"

Ryan shifted his weight on his chair, his eyes fixed on the black and white print below him. A newspaper in which he seemed to be filling out the crossword. "Not particularly, no."

At this point, Finlay was behind Ryan, and he stared at the back of his head as if looking at him hard enough would allow to transfer his thoughts. Though, Ryan probably wouldn't appreciate Finlay's mind-set neither.