Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Finlay woke from an accidental sleep curled into Ryan's couch with his nose squashed against the back cushion. When he shifted a little, an immense shooting pain pulsed from one of his shoulders and shot through his whole arm. His body was used to sleeping in stange places, but the hard leather of Ryan's couch really didn't do him any good.

He grunted loudly and turned over to face the rest of the flat, being temporarily blinded by the sudden brightness. Quiet music was playing and small noises were coming from the kitchen, but he couldn't be bothered to move look over the couch to see what they were. Ryan must already be up, which was unusual, but Finlay wasn't planning on awaking fully just yet and instead studied the walls, the immaculately clean white walls.

Ryan was some sort of perfectionist, not excessively, but he liked things to look good. He always took pride in his appearance, his hygiene, his speech and everyone knew it. He even knew it himself. He always made a huge effort to make his clothing look good, made sure his body was always thin and hair always perfect. Ryan was a very observant man and, since he lived by himself, it just so happened that his flat was always in perfect condition. Finlay sometimes wondered if the reason Ryan lived alone was something to do with his perfection, but then he argued with himself as he knew it wasn't that extreme and his single status never seemed to bother him.

"So you finally decided to wake?" Ryan appeared suddenly at the foot of the couch and Finlay proped himself up on one arm to see him, sending a jolt of pain down his right arm like lightning.

"Yeah, I uhm-" Finlay cleared his throat, his voice was even deeper and more rough in the morning than usual, "I just woke up."

"I guessed," he laughed and turned back towards the kitchen. Ryan's flat was pretty open-plan so he could still see Finlay "do you want anything to eat? I'm not really hungry myself but I've made tea."

"Tea's good, thanks." Finlay swung his legs off the side of the couch and ran his hands threw his hair as he slouched over.

The music playing was recognisable. He remembered that Ryan had bought it once on vinyl during one of their frequent record store sweeps. Finlay had always enjoyed this album, and wanted to purchase it himself, but let Ryan have the last vinyl since he had already bought three that day.

"You slept in your clothes?" Ryan enquired from the kitchen behind him as his hands searched the bench for various pots containing tea-making ingredients.

Finlay looked down at himself, "oh, yeah I must've. I'm not too bothered, they need washing anyway."

He stood up and stretched his arms before shuffling over to the kitchen area with heavy feet. Ryan was sat at the small white table with his head down and resting in a hand, clearing enjoying the faint tune.

The way Ryan acted with music was fascinating. Whilst listening he'd close his eyes as if trying to soak up every noise audible, and whilst playing he'd bend and dance in ways thought impossible by the others. Finlay found Ryan extraordinarily interesting when he watched him in the presence of something he loved. He enjoyed the way his eyes would usually light up if they were visible, and the stupid toothy grin he would had plastered on his face.

Ryan looked up at him from the table after a few seconds silence and blinked a few times, "do you not want your tea?"

"Oh yeah," Finlay abandoned his thoughts and sat beside him at the table where he took his mug, raised it to his lips and completely downed the whole thing. He then wiped his lips and muttered a thanks.

"Thirsty?" Ryan mumbled, then laughed. His eyes peering at Finlay from behind his mug which covered his nose and upper lip.

"Yeah, last night was exhausting," he sighed and started pushing his fingers through his hair to make it even messier than his morning do.