We sat under the bed sheets, me and Finn.
Me
and
Finn.
Nothing else mattered in all of time and space.
Finn was everything precious about the world, Finn was glaciers and soft pastels, Finn was oceans and Victoria sponge cakes.
Finn
and
me;
Finn
and
Tanya.
We were 7 years old, without all care in the universe. We weren't toxic mixtures of sad and happy. We weren't laughing on the outside and dying on the inside.
We were us.
Finn and Tan.
Holding hands under a fort of sheets and pillows, a vinyl crackling as it reached the end of its melodies.
We held hands, with only the glow of my dads light-up globe filling our castle. With only the hum of sprinklers breaking any silence not filled with laughter.
We were us. We were King and Queen, God and Goddess.
Most importantly, we were Finn and Tan.
Little did I know how much that would grow to mean to me.
