PRIMARY COLOURS ❨ SEQUEL! ❩

thirteen!

RECAP!
finn looks at me, but his face is glazed in a still expression. like he wants to laugh but doesn't physically feel the desire to, "woah, hey, are you okay?" i finally ask.

"rough day is all." his hand is on his head.

"sorry. but, finn, it was your first day back, what happened?"

he sighs as a teenager would, dramatic and expressive, "what didn't happen? it was just as i expected."

"your expectations seem to be low, then, considering the state you're in." i expect him to laugh just a little, but instead he just nods, "well, are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

. . .

"i mean, it's nothing that i haven't seen before. people see me, they recognize me, and suddenly, i'm not me anymore. i'm finn wolfhard," he vents, and i frown in confusion. he puts his head in his hands and combs through his hair, "i know, it's confusing. it's like, there are two identical versions of myself, walking around in the same body. from a distance, i look like a regular, normal person, but once that little realization in your brain clicks," he snaps his fingers, "suddenly i become less of a whole, my two selves start to separate, and i look more like two kids in a trench coat."

finn exhales cautiously, almost as if he's doing something wrong by breathing. it rained a couple hours ago, and now only the remains of the storm have lingered above his neighbourhood. dark storm clouds hover, not enough for it to rain, but enough to cast a gloomy shadow. the entryway is crowded with wet boots, soaked socks, a broken umbrella, and some school notebooks sitting flat on the floor, wrinkled and damp.

i try to think of something to say, give him some sort of answer, but i can't. thankfully, he continues, "i know you don't understand, and it's okay. i love you all the same," he finally pulls his head away from his hands and tries to wipe his palms on his pants. his voice sounds tired and scratchy, breaking in all the wrong places and causing him to clear his throat often. he reaches for my hand and holds it with both of his, still looking to the floor. his palms are wet, but i don't say anything. he sits back and sighs again, "what has it been? a year since this all began? that night at comic con, when we met," he looks at me and laughs a little when he sees me blush, "you were so fucking embarrassed—"

"i was not! it's called car sickness, and i know that the bumpiness and utter chaos of downtown streets somehow don't bother you—which i have a very hard time believing, actually—but it was anything but embarrassment," i tease, and he only tilts his head and smiles in response, "and don't forget to throw evie in the mix, too. that bitch was talking my ear off, whether you can believe that or not. definitely not embarrassment, though."

"sure, okay." finn remarks, and the room falls silent for a few seconds, "you know," he begins, "have you ever realized that you've made my life—and let's be fair, many others' lives—a complete living hell?" he says almost expressionlessly. i don't know how to respond again, and just stare at him in utter bewilderment. i catch his eyes before he looks away from me and at the ceiling instead, "ever since the incident at the airport—ever since the day we met, really—our lives have been a non-stop, stressful, frantic mess. we've run away from the police," he counts on his free hand, "run away to some creepy ass town in the middle of fucking nowhere, gone through some insane emotional trauma, ran away from the police for a second time, managed to meet three perfect strangers and take them along with us, ran away from the police for a third time—there's a recurring theme—and witnessed my girlfriend's death, only for her to wake from the dead in her coffin on the day of her fucking funeral."