The Dead Boy's Guide To Second Chances

16. friday night fallout

THREE MONTHS AND SIXTEEN DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF OLIVER SALLOW

All Finn wants is to go home.

He didn't sleep well last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that.

It might be his meds. More likely, it's the memory of Oliver in the stairwell, staring at Finn like Finn had lost his mind after he told him he missed him.

If he could, he would take the words and stuff them back into the pits of his chest where they came from. He was the one who made a whole thing about the "no feelings" rule. It's pretty obvious now that he's the only one who's ever been in danger of breaking it.

Oliver broke up with Finn over a year ago and is now contractually bound to spend what little time he has left with him. This isn't a second chance or a cathartic finale or whatever else Finn has deluded himself into believing. This is a chore Oliver has to complete in order not to leave for good. The least Finn can do is not make it any worse by drunkenly spilling his feelings in the most humiliating way possible. Again.

"Finn?"

He only realizes he's been close to drifting off when Samira calls his name.

She offers him a smile. "Come on in."

With herculean effort, Finn manages to heave himself out of his seat and cross the small waiting room. Inside Samira's office, he slumps onto the couch without even taking off his jacket.

"Long day at school?" Samira prompts.

Finn makes a small noise that could really mean anything.

"You look tired." She tilts her head to catch his gaze. "Have you been sleeping okay?"

"No," he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes. "Not really."

"Because of the fluoxetine? Or is there something else keeping you up?"

"Dunno." When Samira says nothing, patiently waiting for a real answer, Finn sighs. Letting his head roll against the backrest of the couch, he tells the ceiling, "I've been having... feelings."

"Feelings," she echoes. God. She doesn't get paid enough to put up with his.

"There's a boy," Finn ventures. They're only three words, but the effort of getting them through his teeth is enough to make him want to pass out once and for all.

"Ah." The hint of a smile flickers across Samira's face. It almost looks a little proud.

It's been a hard thing for him to figure out. He used to think that bisexuality had to be split even, a boy for every girl he's ever found attractive, when it's really not like that. He's fancied a bunch of girls before, but Oliver's the only boy he's ever had proper feelings for. That doesn't make this part of his sexuality any less valid, though. It's not a blip, or a weird outlier owed to the fact that Oliver wears eyeliner and paints his nails sometimes. If Finn had to compare it, he'd say that comparing his feelings toward girls versus Oliver is like comparing velvet to silk. Neither is objectively better than the other; they just feel different.

"Is he a boy from your school?" Samira asks when Finn doesn't elaborate.

"Yeah," he says after a beat. It's not a total lie. Oliver's name is still on every form list.

"And why is it that you're losing sleep over him?"

"Well, er..." Finn pulls one of the decorative pillows into his lap, arms wrapped around it as he searches for words that won't make him sound completely insane. "I like him a lot. But he doesn't like me back, I don't think. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter because..." He fumbles for a second. "Because he's leaving soon."