Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Eight

A/N: Not much exciting happens in this chapter, just a transition from last chapter to next really. Caysie. x

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Chapter Eight

    A searing pain shot through Finlay's shoulder and down his arm, causing him to groan slightly. His face was embedded in an unfamiliar pillow which smelt of fruity shampoo and... Ryan? Oh, Finlay thought, he'd forgotten he had slept here last night. And slept he had. Very well in fact, scarily so since he didn't enjoy sleep. 

   With another muffled groan into the pillow, Finlay twisted his neck so he was facing in Ryan's direction. His friend was still asleep, his face staring at him though unconsciously. Awe came over Finlay as he traced the features of Ryan's face with his heavy eyes. He'd always known it, but until now he'd never though much of it. Ryan was absolutely beautiful. His hair was so perfectly neat and straight, despite the day and night he'd spent in bed without washing. The morning light actually seemed to bounce of the brown-blonde shine of the strands and it gently covered his forehead, somehow making his slender face ever thinner. Although he was nearing thirty, Ryan's complexion looked so younger it actually made Finlay jealous. Ryan was three years older than him, but he still looked even younger than Finlay himself. And his cheekbones, Finlay couldn't describe how much he loved them. They were so prominent with his skin stretched across them like smooth sheets of perfect paleness, despite the shadows that still loomed. He could go on forever describing Ryan's beauty... What? What was he doing? Finlay blinked a few times and raised both eyebrows. He realised how much he'd been staring and how weird it was to observe your sleeping friend and automatically marvel at their beauty. Maybe it was time to get up.

     He lay on his back and bent his stretched his arms up to the ceiling whilst scrunching up his face. He really hated sleeping, his muscles felt odd afterwards. The wood of the bedroom floor was cool on his feet, even through the pair of socks he was still wearing, and he almost slipped when he stood up. He felt really stiff and had to stand still to stretch some more, looking at the window as he did so. The blinds were closed, just like they had been yesterday, but they still let the light stream through undisturbed. With one last click of the wrists, Finlay swiveled to look at Ryan and saw that he was still sleeping, tucked up in his ball with the sheet and quilt over him. Finlay thought himself lucky that he didn't freeze to death last night, since he only had his clothes and the bottom sheet for warmth.

   The bedroom door was slightly ajar which let a little light shine through. The light illuminated the bathroom door, which caused Finlay to realise just how much he needed the toilet, but the flush would wake Ryan. He decided he'd have to wait and he made his way outwards of the bedroom and shut the door carefully behind so Ryan would not wake from the kettle or TV noise. As he wandered on over towards the kitchen, he patted his back pockets before pulling out his phone from where it had been all night. The time was nearing noon, and he seen that he had a text of Timothy. He laughed when he read it, Timothy seemed to be under the impression Ryan was torturing Finlay from his brisk phone call yesterday. 

    Finlay flicked the kettle on and dragged out a kitchen chair to sit on while he rang Timothy.

"Oh my Lord he lives, Joel quickly come over Finlay's alive!" Timothy's voice sarcastically shouted through the phone.

"You mean he hasn't kept him prisoner?" Finlay could hear Joel's distinct voice in the background. He put his free hand through his hair and stared at the table, waiting for them to get over the joke.

"Evidently so! So Finlay, has he allowed to communicate externally or have you somehow slipped past him? He'll be wondering where his bitch is." The thing the surprised Finlay was that Timothy actually sounded seriously, although he knew he was only kidding.