Tell Me How It Feels

Chapter Sixteen

AN: Lots of swearing. Needs editing, I'll do it eventually. Caysie. x

Chapter Sixteen 

  Finlay lay on his own bed, in his own room, listening to quiet music. Despite it being only lunch time, the room was dark for he had drawn the curtains and the room was filled with a cold staleness. 

  The last two hours had been emotionally stressing, and it all got too overwhelming. He had retreated in here to comfort his own mind, too much failure. As he lay, hunched up in a ball as if trying to make himself small, he recalled over and over the day so far in his mind.

  He was upset, certainly. He'd be fooling himself to say he wasn't. In fact, he was more than just upset. He was utterly devastated. If he had thought two months ago that he'd come to be a large, but tiny, ball of skin and material in his future, he would have done things very differently.

  For the seventh time or so, he replayed everything in his mind, causing his chest and head to ache dully but constantly. 

  Joel and Timothy had been with him that morning, they had spoken to him for a while, teased him, asked him questions, and Finlay had snapped. All of a sudden, he had felt this awful pressure in head and eyes which just caused him to lose his patience and demand answers. 

  Little had he known, Ryan had been standing behind him for God knows how long, but nobody told him.

  He scrunched his eyes at the memory. It was unknown to him whether his anger was directed at Ryan for listening, Joel and Timothy for not telling him or himself for being so oblivious. Actually, he wasn't even sure of the feeling was anger at all, but possibly disappointment instead.

  Once Ryan had been noticed, the room had fallen silent. A wave of tingling guilt pulsed through Finlay's body and he couldn't do anything but stare.

  Ryan had asked him timidly what Finlay would say to him, what he's tell him, but after receiving no reply he muttered, "yeah, I thought so."

  And then when the silence continued, Ryan had pushed himself off the door frame and walked straight out of the flat, still in the state of how he had woken.

  Joel's lip remained wedged between his teeth for minutes. Timothy stroked his hairline for what seemed like forever. But Finlay just stared at the empty air where Ryan had stood, desperately wishing he had said something.

  Eventually, both Joel and Timothy had leaped out the chair they both were sat on and dragged Timothy up off the floor, and practically pushed him out of the flat, demanding that he found him and sort everything out.

  Present Finlay extended his neck from out of his own chest, the muscles relieved to return to their natural state. His face was flushed now from breathing the warm air his body produced for such a long time. His throat felt clear now that the air was a suitable temperature.

  He had remained in the hallway of Joel's building for a few moments, partly in shock from the brief forced exit. His logic kicked in eventually and he hurried towards the window to see if he could catch which direction Ryan would go in.

  Soon enough Finlay, with his body pressed fully against the large pane, saw the black and white stripes of Ryan's tshirt hurry across the road. He had noted in his head which street he crossed and knew exactly where he was heading. He could have guessed he'd head home.

  In a flash, Finlay had darted to the elevator and repeatedly pressed the down button as if it'd quicken itself to suit his needs. 

  He had felt confused. Really confused. He didn't know what to think. He had questioned what he would say to Ryan once he caught him. He couldn't have lied and insisted that there was nothing he needed to tell him because Ryan knew that wasn't true now. Fucking Joel and Timothy with their stupid questions.