A Book About Love

Chapter Two: Incoming Incomes

Chapter Two

Incoming incomes

Finn

He rolled his eyes.

The song had been playing forever. It was probably not but it just as well seemed like it.

And his extreme hangover was not helping either.

He should have never invited James over. Didn't he know any better?

But he didn't.

And for a moment, he was a bit confused. And even looked down to see if his toes were still on his feet, where they should be.

Yup, looks like they are, he noted. Great.

"Get out of my house, James," Finn mumbled, his face meeting the pillow again.

He heard some noise coming from the kitchen but refused to wake up.

Shuffle, shuffle. James had huge feet. And heavy feet. And noisy feet, Finn noted.

"Come on," and with a tug, James had Finn sitting up on his king-sized bed. Or, well, at least somewhat slouching.

James took care of Finn, because he knew Finn was not mature enough to, and he had well mentioned that to Finn's face countless times.

I saw you in baby diapers, Finn. You haven't changed much.

Ouch.

Speaking of which, his head hurt like hell. He groaned and his hand involuntarily reached up to clutch it.

"My brain hurts," he complained.

James tore Finn's hand off his forehead, and placed a glass of water in there. Coffee was on the table, along with some asprin.

"I would feel for you, except for the fact that you don't have a brain. So that comment is pretty much invalid."

Finn did not even have the energy to fight James back. He rarely did.

He reached out for a pack of cigarettes to find it gone.

"Oh yeah," James said casually, getting off from the porthole he had just made in the comforter, "I binned your cigarettes. Smoking kills."

"More like, I'm going to kill you." Finn tried to revive himself from bed, but couldn't and so decided that it was best to stay put. He popped some aspirin and gulped down the coffee.

Thank God it's a Saturday... He really didn't have any life left in his body to even breathe anymore and was afraid that he may need to call an ambulance.

He never wanted to leave his bed.

He never wanted to move.

Sleeping was better.

Then he was horridly - and harshly - stripped of his warmth. He let out an unmanly yelp.

"We have plans," James told him, "Breakfast plans."

The walk to the ATM was not very far, but Finn felt as if he weighed twice as much as he did, which sometimes may seem like a good thing to a guy trying to bulk up, but this was different. More of a dropping stomach, swollen body kind of gain.

James stayed glued to his blackberry the entire trip, which made Finn very happy. He had enough of James for one day, and it was only ten in the morning.

He needed to draw out some money for breakfast, as James was not a very cheap date.

They had decided to go for breakfast at Au Laclaint, a quaint French café for breakfast, as Finn had (vaguely remembered, but according to James) promised to bring him to try their croissants, which had gained worldwide acclamation for the chocolate swirls they managed to weave into the top layer of the croissants.