BRANCE + RINNEY

nothing is real, not like you and me

"GIVE me everything I ever need
Or just enough so I can go to sleep
Well, is it me or is it you who came to see
The scene when all those warm jets swallow ME"
——
TW: Suicide. Read with caution.

Finney was the one who found his mother, her feet swinging by his childhood-induced face as he wobbled himself into her bedroom. He had looked up, eyes wide and confused as to why the ceiling fan hadn't broken yet.

The woman hanging didn't look like his mother, she was far too pale blue. Her face was swollen it seemed, sticking out around the threads of rope tightened around her neck. There was a single piece of paper grasped in the palm of her hand, tucked beneath her thumb and index finger.

Finney grabbed it, crinkling it slightly with his small chubby hands. He had ran to his father in the living room, making sure to mind his steps as to not knock over the half-empty brown glass bottle sat near the armchair.

"Dad! Mama, paper. Mama, paper." His voice was a high shrill and his father turned around, almost angry. The paper Finney had handed him was stained a deep red, catching his attention instantly.

Before Finney could register anything else, his father had stood up and ran to the bedroom. Gwen had wobbled out of her sitting position in front of the television, hands cupping her small ears as her father's gut-wrenching scream sounded through the house.

Looking at his hands now, Finn found them the same color that stained the note. Crimson. He found it silly, how much it resembled a color so deep.

"Gwenny, color. Color, me. We go color." Finney interlocked his hand with Gwen's, leading her towards his room where his collection of markers and printer paper were sprawled out on the floor.

His father continued to wail out cries of anger and grief, the squeaks and whines of marker on paper doing nothing to drown out the sound.
——

January, the hardest month of the year. Everyone expects you to have some kind of resolution, a clean slate smeared with the hues of last year's troubles. Finney never made resolutions, knowing that things would be just as hard as they always were.

"Could you do my hair? Braids again." Gwen was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, hair a messy wave tucked around her shoulders and face. Finney smiled at her, blinking once before nodding his head.

"Did you sleep okay?" Finney brushed Gwen's hair softly, humming a tune as he waited on a response. Gwen clicked her tongue against her teeth, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, okay. Did you?"

Finney knew that Gwen knows about his sleeping trouble, having been scared awake by his screaming and choking sobs. He nodded his head anyways.

"Yeah, okay."
——

Finney never minded walking by himself, hands tucked deep into the warmth of his pockets and skin kissed cold as snow glued itself to trees and bushes. It was his turn to go the grocery store, as it had been for the past two and a half years.

"Eggs, pancake mix, milk, butter." Finney repeated the items to himself in a whisper, fog clouding around him with every exhale of a breath. "Eggs, pancake mix, milk, butter."

The squeal of tires made him flinch, words of grocery items falling off his tongue and disappearing into the blankets of snow. A car drove near him, close enough for him to reach out to, and then veered off onto another street.

"Pancake mix, milk, what else?" Finney cursed at himself, balling his hands into fists that sunk into his pockets as he crossed the street.

Christmas lights lined the windows of the grocery store, flickering lime green and yellows. Finney wanted to take them down, throw them away where no one would ever find them. Pushing the entrance door open, Finney winced at the sound of the bell overhead. He pushed away the thought of covering his ears and just walking back home.

"Ah, Finney! Nice to see you again, what is it you're buying this time?" The voice was feigning joy, a facade placed over the sick and twisted reality underneath. "Ingredients for pancakes, I believe."

Finney had begun to walk away, hands by sides as he scanned different items. Walking to the back of the store, he smiled as he caught sight of a milk carton tucked into a freezer.

"The ones with a later expiration are in the back, would you like my help?" Finney jumped, taken aback, and looked over his shoulder. The man from the counter stood close to him, his breath tickling the hairs on his neck, with a deep smile. "Oh, uh, no. No, that's okay." Finney smiled himself, forced.

The man stood back and, for a moment, Finney thought he was in the clear. He allowed himself, just for a second, to believe this grocery trip wouldn't be like all the others.

"Come on kid, don't make this harder than it needs to be." A hand wrapped around Finney's waist, pulling him close. He didn't try to fight it, knowing what would come if he did. "I, I have to get home. Please, just let me go home."

Finney closed his eyes, forcing tears back, as lips grazed his collarbone. He shivered, trying to pull away. He didn't want this. He didn't want this.

"Kid, I said stop." The voice was deeper now, harsher. Finney sniffled, staying still. He cursed the store for being the only one in town.

"What the hell are you doing to him?" Finney opened his eyes, tears clouding his vision, and turned to the side. The man holding him let go, stepping back with a scowl. There was a teenager, close to Finney's age, standing with his arms crossed.

"I'd advise you to leave young man, we were in the middle of something here." Finney kept his eyes down, brushing away tears with the back of his hand. The man came close to him again, a hand reaching out, before a loud thump pushed him away.

"No, I'd advise you to go before I kick your sorry, disgusting, ass." Finney looked up again, worried for the boy. The man had been pushed into a shelf, now rubbing at his backside as he gasped large inhales of air. When he hadn't tried to move for some time, the teenager turned to Finney, a worried smile on his face as he stuck his hand out.

"Hey dude, I'm Robin. We should probably get out of here." Robin, as he said he was, turned to leave. Finney turned back to the freezer, grabbing the nearest carton of milk. "Uh, what are you doing?" Robin was close now, again. "My little sister wanted pancakes, so I'm getting the ingredients for it."

Robin laughed, genuinely. Finney turned to him, smiling for what seemed like the first time.

"Here, let me help you then."
——

Gwen didn't ask Finney about the boy following him around the house, or helping him make pancakes. She sat quietly, enjoying her breakfast, while the two boys talked about whatever came to mind.

She didn't ask about the police sirens outside, wailing off to where she knew the grocery store was.

As long as Finney was happy, then Gwen was happy too.
——
authors note: let's assume that terrance isn't in the picture anymore and that finney takes care of gwen like his own, because i said so!