☆The Black Phone oneshots☆

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Story Summary 》Finney breaks down again, the cold dark basement hurting his ears with silence seemingly wasting away slowly with time. His want and need for Robin, the small pecks to his temple or even just a hug to reassure him he's good enough. Robin sees this as a ghost, the dread and guilt of not being there for him eating away at him, knowing what's gonna happen in time, he's in denial of Finns soon demise.
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Finn was cold. His fingers feeling like fragile ice cicles hanging off of roofs during the winter. His palms aching in desperation for heat.
.His lips stinging with a sort of hum of pain, they were a deep shade of purple.

If he could see himself he wouldn't be able to tell it was him, the time spent in the concrete walls slowly making him look like he's never left, which he hasn't in what feels like forever. His hair was greasy, finn hated greasy hair, the way he could feel the grease on top of his scalp making him cringe. He atleast wished the evil man who had taken him would let him have a bath or a shower.

Sadly, Finn knew the man still wasn't to happy about the last escape attempt, his body ached in memory of everything he went through that night. Every touch and murmer of threats and violence re entered his mind.

The need to cry was brawny, he recalled one of the last times he spoke to his father. His father was reminding him that crying was weak, Finn knew that already but the mistake of crying infront of his father was made. He still had cuts and bruises on his body from that night of horror. He remembered cleaning the blood off of the walls, his clothes, and face. He lacked the memory of why he was crying, it was unimportant in the moment.

This particular punish was extra difficult to heal from. Robin had already went missing, Maybe that's why he was crying.

Robin... With the thought of him tears threatened to fall. He missed him. Robin was his best friend, he would be lying if he said they hadn't made out here and there. Robin always knew how to make it better. Cuddles, movie nights, alcohol, sometimes even weed. He was there for him no matter what.

Finney wished Robin got kidnapped with him so they could be by each others side. And then the guilt filled his body for wishing that apon Robin. He didn't know what happened to him he had a guess that he might of been in the same position as him. But he didn't want to think that. That was a dangerous thought, the feeling of dread ensued him, accepting his best friend was dead.

He broke. Tears rapidly fell from his eyes. Soaking his shirt and staining his cheeks. He only cried 2 other times since he's been here. When he was actively attempting to escape, and when he almost made it out. He couldn't stop himself. If the old man saw him cry he would have to play naughty boy again. The desperation to stop was overwhelming. He couldn't. His eyes leaked like faucets. His nose starting to run. He couldn't even properly see. The want of a blanket so he could curl up on the mattress and hide away from the world he was already being hidden from.

He sprawled out on the mattress when a realization hit him. All of the other victims used this mattress. Robin Used this mattres. Disgust is what he felt next. He knew what happened here previously happened to the others too. Disgust. He wanted to move and and just lay on the floor, the amount of crying he was doing is the only thing that stopped him.

Robin is all he wanted to see and hear.

Finney finally broke all the way down. The silence other than is own weeping , burned his ear drums. His body, innocence, and childhood wasting away quickly.

Robin. He wanted Robin. Needed him even. The way he would kiss his temple when they were all alone. Because Finn was just Robin's. That's all they needed was each other. Finn started to list off everything he needed and missed of Robin.