Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Eleven

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been long. My Internet decided to die and I can't stand writing on my phone for more than a paragraph. 

Just like any other chapter, enjoy the boredem and lack of story. I do promise something will happen. One day...

Thanks, I'll upload again soon. Caysie. x

Chapter Eleven

Upon waking, Finlay's first action was a deep, heart-felt sigh. His eyes were drawn to a spot on the window as he wondered why he ever let himself sleep. He just felt awful every time he woke up. On the other hand, he was relieved to notice his shoulder wasn't causing him any pain as he lay on his side. The nights spent in Ryan's bed and his own must've been enough to soothe it. He was grateful for Ryan finally clearing the spare room for him.

He tilted his neck back to see if Ryan was awake, and then did a full-body turn when he couldn't see him. Now lying facing Ryan's side, he darted his eyes around the empty space as if he'd find him hiding in a tiny crease somewhere. Finlay wasn't sure what to think, it was unusual for Ryan to wake before him, and his imediate though was that he'd disappeared. That he'd gone somewhere and wasn't coming back. But Finlay wasn't stupid, and pushed away his foolish thoughts so more mature and realistic ones could sprout. He must have simply woken earlier than him for once.

Finlay lay there for a few minutes, not thinking about anything in particular. If he listened hard enough he could hear soft muffled noises coming from the living area, most likely from the TV or music. Eventually he decided lying here wasn't getting him anywhere so he dragged himself up.

"Morning," Finlay barely had gotten out the door and had to blink twice as Ryan beamed at him from the couch.

"Eh, morning," his reply didn't sound very enthusiastic, more confused than anything. He hadn't been this joyful in days.

"So," Ryan swiftly rose from his seat and swung into the kitchen area,"how did you sleep?"

Finlay stopped in his tracks between the dining table and the desk blocking the bathroom door, staring wide-eyed at Ryan. "Fine, thanks. Are you okay?"

Ryan had grabbed himself a chair and had sat himself down at the table with two books. One leather-bound and one that resembled a photo album. "I'm great thanks, I made you a cup of tea before, it's over there," he gestured his head towards the kettle where a mug stood alone, "it might be a little cold now."

Finlay was really confused, he didn't know why Ryan was this happy and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Eh, thanks," he mumbled, taking the mug in his hands and placing it to his lips.

"What are you doing today?" Ryan asked quickly, still smiling at his friend who had seemingly decided the temperature of the tea was fine.

"I dunno," Finlay replied truthfully, he didn't have a clue. "You?"

"Well, I've got this book," he placed the two on the table and set aside the leather-bound one so he could open the other, "it's got loads of pictures of Hayley in it. She had always said she wanted lots of stupid pictures of her at her funeral, so I'll pick some today, it's what she wanted."

Finlay was taken aback by Ryan. He was planning his deceased sister's funeral this morning, yet he was this happy. He didn't understand it, so he took a chair too and sat opposite.

"Will you help me pick some?" Ryan's eyes look all too pleading and desperate, yet relieved.

"Sure," he dragged out his words and started to slide the leather-book across the table, just to be abruptly stopped by Ryan's hand on his arm.