★ᴺᵉʷˢᶦᵉˢ ᵒⁿᵉˢʰᵒᵗˢ ★

Finch⪨

-Ammo-

You and Finch.

The two of you never had a great relationship. You were definitely not friends. Or frenemies. You absolutely despised eachother. From the moment you arrived at the lodge when you were 5 and he was 6. It was something that just didn't click.

As soon as you arrived, a little Rock came out of nowhere and hit you straight in the temple, full speed. You sobbed. He acted like it was an accident, which got him out of a soaking from Jack. (Jack was about 8 at the time). You could tell it wasn't an accident because he clearly had that hint in his eyes. That's how you got your nickname of Tears. All because of Finch.

People called you Tears and you didn't mind. But Finch called you Crybaby.

Each day you came back from selling, he would hit you with a pebble. Using his slingshot from across the room. He did it because he knew he could make you cry. Then say 'she's bein' sensitive.' Jack never appreciates it much.

One day, you got back from selling. You made it back before Finch and you smiled widely. You sat in the chair he's always in when he hits you. You took a spare slingshot that was laying about. You got a pebble from outside and loaded it into the slingshot and aimed it at the door. He could come in at any second.

When he did, you pulled back the slingshot and let it go, it hit him square in the cheek. He gasped in surprise and held his cheek then looked over at you. You were laughing your ass off.

"Ey! What da hell, Crybaby!" He yelled in a fit of anger and stormed up to you, knocking the slingshot out of your hand and grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you up from the seat.

"Not so funs when it happens to ya, ey?" You sneered, not afraid or intimidated by him. "What ya's gonna do? Hit me?" She challenged him, knowing if he did do anything he would get soaked by Jack.

He curled his lips up in a snarl and let go of you and stomped away to the table where all the boys played cards.

You scoffed "I'se the crybaby, huh?" She muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, walking to your bunk to lay down for a bit. Your legs hurt.

For some reason you couldn't stop thinking about how his face was mere centimeters from yours. Maybe if you'd leaned in a bit... No! Never.
___________

About a week after that, you stopped going directly back to the lodging house after you were done selling. You always went to the Brooklyn Bridge to look at the water that always fascinated you.

It was dark out. The sun had set and you could only see silhouettes of people and objects. As you were looking out at the water you heard footsteps approaching you. You looked over to see a person walking towards you. They had a shorter build, but was definitely well built either way.

You tilted your head as they approached, "Hello?"

"Ya from 'Hatten?" The voice was a boys, he eventually got to you and you could see his face a bit clearer. "Yeah. What's it to ya?"

"Ya on me turf."

"Ya Brooklyn?"

"Yeah."

"I ain't sellin' just looking out at the wata'."

Silence. Though.. It wasn't awkward. It was comfortable. You barley met him but you felt comfortable around him? What?

"What's ya name?" You hummed, not looking at the boy and keeping your eyes on the scenery.

"Spot. Spot Conlon." He responded. Oh shit. The king of Brooklyn. You were surprised he hadn't soaked you for being on his turf. "What 'bout ya?" He asked.

"Tears." Spot looked a little confused, "They call ya 'Tears?'" He questioned, trying to confirm what he heard.

"When I'se first arrived someon' hit me in da head with a sling shot so I cried and day called me Tears from then on." You shrugged, explaining the whole story.

"How come ya so chill with me bein' on ya turf, King a' Brooklyn." You raised a brow and he smirked, "I ain't gonna hurt a lady. Especially a perty one like ya." He winked. You giggled. "I'se should really get goin'.. Same time tamarra'?" You hummed, pushing yourself off of the railing. He just nodded.

You walked home, giddy and happy. Sure. He was the king of Brooklyn but he seemed like a nice guy compared to how Jack described him.
_________

You and Spot met for several days after that, weeks, months even. It all ended when you found him kissing a different girl on the bridge. You felt so betrayed and hurt. You thought he actually loved you. Turns out it was all an illusion. No one knew about the two of you.. so you couldn't tell anybody.

You just had to sit there. And suffer in silence. But a certain boy noticed. One you'd thought would never care. Finch. The boy you've been enemies with for longer than you can remember.

"Ey. Crybaby." He approached you in his classic infuriated way. "What's been goin' on with ya?" He had been messing with you earlier and noticed you weren't responding much as you usually would to his insults and taunting. You decided not to respond and keep your head buried in your pillow. He scowled and pulled you up. You pried his hands off of you and turned your back to him.

"Go away, Finch. I'se not in the mood." You dismissed him. He frowned, then sat on the side of your bed and reached out his hand hesitantly and started to rub you back. This action made you turn back to him in confusion. He took his hand back.

"Ya can tells me what's wrong.. If ya wants.." He murmured softly, getting ready to push himself up from the bed but you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down and patted the place in the bed next to you.

He grinned slightly, then joined you, he started to cuddle with you as you explained it. He wasn't the happiest about you dating Spot but he did feel bad.

"I'se sorry for how I'se treat ya, Cry- Tears. I'se just don know how ta show affection.." He said softly, burying his face in your hair.

This felt nice.

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1073 words