violet | tbn modern au

07 // Game of Cat and Bird

"Oh, little red bird, come to my window sill. Been so lonesome, shaking that morning chill. Oh, little red bird, open your mouth and say: Been so lonesome, just about flown away."

Song: Winter's Come and Gone, Gillian Welch

Finch woke up before everyone else did. He hadn't slept easy that night, not for any individual reason, although he had had that migraine earlier that week. Common as they were, they never failed to cause a great stir amongst the boys, which was unfortunate when you considered how much worse the frantic voices made the headaches.

However, they had gotten better. He could still remember the first migraine he'd gotten, the dullness in his vision that had led to excruciating pain minutes later. Sure, the headache had been present for the majority of that morning, but it had intensified to something awful and agonizing, landing him in front of the toilet, heaving up all he'd eaten that day. The boys had all been sent into a frenzy, yelling at each other on his behalf, yet only making the pain worse. Thankfully, Kloppman had soon come to his rescue and led him into his own bedroom, pulling down the blinds, shutting the door, and staying with him until the head-splitting pain had receded.

He pulled himself out of bed with a sigh, heading over to one of the sinks to wash his face with some cool water. He would eat later. There was a yearning in his heart for a stroll out in the morning air, and who was he to deny it? Maybe it would clear his head.

As he left the sinks, he passed by all those who still slept, raising an eyebrow at Romeo who was moments away from falling off of his bunk. Race was already on the floor. Finch side-stepped him, heading for the entryway where his coat hung. A pine green, like the evergreen trees outdoors. His favourite colour.

He halted as something occurred to him. Lane wore, most often, a green jacket that seemed to be several sizes too big for her. Finch had given his old coat away at the end of last fall, when he had noticed that it had begun to tear. It, too, had been green.

Finch told himself he was overthinking it. Why would Lane have purchased a worthless old coat, and how would she have come into contact with it in the first place? He had donated it to the local Salvation Army, even though the old thing was as good as garbage. He figured someone might like to use the fabric for something different. Plus, he added to himself, what were the chances that Lane had actually purchased his old coat?

"Up already, kid?"

Finch turned to where Kloppman sat at his desk, his gaze trained on the rising sun outside. Finch hadn't even noticed him there.

"Couldn't sleep," Finch replied, taking his coat off the hook and shrugging it onto his shoulders. "You couldn't either, apparently."

"Oh, I've always been an early riser." Kloppman sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Have to be, to get you boys up for school every morning."

"You could just set an alarm."

Kloppman snorted. "As if that would wake ya."

Finch smiled, shaking his head. He made his way outside, breathing in the cool, refreshing winter air. Almost spring, now. February always seemed stuck between the two.

Valentine's Day, he realized, was tomorrow.

Valentine's Day with the newsies was now most commonly referred to as Cupid's Day. Not because of the naked baby with the bow and arrow, mind you, but because Finch still owned that wooden slingshot from when they were kids, and he still found it fun to hide in trees and shoot small pebbles at people who passed. It made them think that there was some higher power at play with the falling rocks, when in reality, it was only him playing Cupid.