Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter One

A/N: Hello! Thanks for choosing to read this story! If you do read, comments and rates are always appriecated. So, if you're willing, give it a chance :)

Oh, and there is swearing all the way through, probably in every chapter. It does have themes of implied homosexuality, but there's absolutely no smut or eroticism whatsoever. Seriously it's PG-13 all the way through, and that's more or less for the swearing.

Oh, it does actually get better further on... I'm really rubbish at introducing a story, so I'm a little disappointed with the first few chapters. Sorry. Up until around chapter twnety needs editing a lot; I'll eventaully get to it.

Enjoy, Caysie. x

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Chapter One

Finlay sat crouched over the edge of the bed, staring at himself in the full-length mirror before him. He observed the unusually tall and long-limbed man in the mirror's image, taking interest specifically in his interlocked hands then slowly dragging his eyes up to his vacant expression. There was no signs of sadness in his face, though he knew he ought to be upset. He was confused about his current emotions and puzzled as to why, and how, he'd gotten here.

His relationship with Rachel had never shown any signs of tearing before and he'd never thought she was unhappy with him, yet after they'd spoken only fourty-five minutes ago, Finlay had returned home without a girlfriend and a now-broken relationship of nineteen months. Even after the sudden and unexplained break-up, Finlay just couldn't bring himself to feel sadness, anger or any emotion in particular. This scared him a little. He did, however, find himself wondering why exactly she had ended it now. The only reason she had gave him was a claim that she wasn't the one he needed, followed by a peck on his cheek.

He wasn't all surprised by his lack of feeling, since he wasn't one to show emotions often. But he could still feel them lying in the pit of his stomach, rising and falling, causing his stomach and mind to tickle. Not today. There was nothing at all.

His four close friends accepted the fact that his feelings weren't too expressive and, to a point, were the same. Finlay made friends, a career, a lifestyle with these people because of their similarities and was grateful for the closeness he shared with them.

He was still lost in deep thought and sitting on his bed, or their bed rather, when a timid knock on the slightly ajar to his left pulled him out of his reflection.

"Y'know, you should really lock your front door once in a while. Anyone could enter."

Finlay laughed as he watched the smaller, yet older, man smile then proceed to sit beside him on the bed, crossing one leg over the other.

"Like you?" Finlay replied and Ryan chuckled as he placed his arms behind himself with his palms pressed into the bed. His back was supported in an angular but relaxed position. Like Finlay, his friends all had extraordinarily thin limbs and were rather proud of their slender figures. None of them were vain, quite the opposite in a sense, but still took care in their appearances. 

"Yeah, like me. Except I'm not going to murder you in your sleep," Ryan chuckled to himself, happy as always was.

"Should I be so sure you'd stick to that statement?" Finlay smirked, still sitting on the bed but not looking in to his friend's face.

"No, you shouldn't," Ryan replied and started to study his thumbnail whilst it itched his thigh through his extremely tight black jeans. Even his fingers were long and thin, which was beneficial to his bass playing. "I'm," he hesitated slightly,  "I'm sorry about you and Rachel."