#bi!finn

Chloe’s with a guy that summer and Archie is, too, so they’re over some nights as well. 

Finn’s back to curling his fingers around Rae’s and for once they can have conversations about other people they’ve seen over the last few years. It’s easy, so very easy 

So even though he’s been really careful with pronouns and doesn’t talk much about him and Archie, Finn gets one too many night and when the others have gone to bed, he lets it slip that he hung out with this guy he met at the pub

Rae looks at him with this warmth on her face like she knows, and Finn has to take a deep breath

“We went out a few times, saw a small show together. Was nice, I suppose.” He knows she doesn’t judge Archie for anything, but it’s different with him. Maybe she doesn’t understand that he can like both, so he stops at that, letting her guess her way out of it.

“You’re not gay, though, are ya’?” she asks, voice a little shaky, like she thinks maybe he’s been seeing her because he figured it would be a cover, so he shakes his head quickly, smiling, before he looks at his own feet.

“No, I ... He said- He liked both, y’know? I think-”

“You’re the same,” she finishes, tilting her head. And maybe Finn just laughs nervously, maybe he tilts his head up and kisses her, then, because he hasn’t told anyone but Archie yet and it’s so amazing to him that she’s always so understanding, so in tune with how he feels.

The fear and nudge of something like self-hatred leaves him that night, when she just sits there, close to him, and listens while he tries to explain what it really means. Even though he has to fight through parts of it, scared she might not understand after all, when she hears all of it - the feelings, the sex. 

But she just asks and finishes sentences when he can’t. She even tells him to just tell the others,

“They’ll understand if you just explain it,” and “Yes, Chop, too.” On his own time, there’s no pressure, it doesn’t have to be now.

Weekends are going to be what will keep him together, he figures. It’ll be the old gang, without Rae. It hurts, because they will remind each other that she isn’t there, even if no one is going to mention it. It’s a matter of all of them being there and her being gone. “The End” is fading out, Morrison’s voice rings in Finn’s ears and then the needle lifts off the record. The flat is silent, cool around him, despite the warm orange lights. He would pick up the phone and call up Izzy or Chop – Archie always spending Friday night with his parents, but when he looks at the time, it’s far later than he thought it was.

When the next morning starts creeping in on him and the morning sun shines in his face, due to a lack of curtains, Finn wishes he’d done something productive the night before. The place is a mess, much as if it were a reflection of his state of mind.

He hasn’t been this stressed since he was at college. He knows that there are no deadlines, sure. But there’s still this hovering weight of something heavy and dulling around him. Other mornings like this one, he’d think of long dark hair and soft skin there for him to get lost in. Jerk off once, maybe twice and then that would be it. Nothing like that to take his mind off of whatever it is nagging him in the back of his head, scraping at his ability to function like the almost-adult he is.

So he tries that. There’s always been a comfort to being with Rae, having sex with her. Just as Finn starts to harden against the palm of his hand, though, and he tries to imagine her smirk, happy with his reaction time, he crashes into a wall, a stare full of unwelcome wonder and fascination. A question he never really got around to answer springs to the forefront of his mind and the entirety of the dull weight falls on him.

He rolls over onto his stomach, groaning in the process, and shifts his hips downward, substituting his hand for the worn mattress. He throws the covers away, so they only cover and tangle with his feet. The lightly stained sheet under him is crumpled, soft as it is worn. Finn buries his face in the flat pillows, letting his hips move against the bed, dick not quite getting hard in protest of still being caught in underwear and under his bodyweight.

The phone rings in the living room, dragging Finn out of his fight with his mind and dick. He does his best to untangle without ripping the sheets off the bed completely, and stands, adjusting himself as he pats across the flat. The phone rings again, just before he picks it up.

“It’s Finn,” he finds himself mumbling, hoping it isn’t his father on the other end. Mr. Nelson has never been a fan of Finn not speaking as clearly as someone like Izzy, who’s always a little loud, perfectly good with just stringing words together.

“Hey mate, listen,” Archie starts on the other end. Finn should be a little more aware of the state of his still half-chub, but it’s Archie and they’ve seen each other worse.

“I just wanted to make sure you were coming down to the pub with the rest of us. Haven’t seen ya’ in a couple o’ weeks, yeah? I miss my best mate,” Archie continues, voice going through strongly. Maybe Finn should’ve asked him for help with the mumbling, once a few years back, when they were in another sort of world. But you end up how you end up, Finn figures. He hums in response to Archie’s stream of speech.

“You have someone there? You’ve never been this silent ‘less Rae was around sleepin’.”  

“I’m just listenin’, Arch. I’ll see ya’ around, a’ight?” Finn says, a little waver in his voice, roughness from sleeping in fresh in the back of his throat. Archie starts saying something about a new song and wanting to play a gig or two soon, just to get back into it for the upcoming week of time off he’s going to have. Finn moves to sit on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch on the wire, but he’s still drowsy, Archie’s voice always had a sort of calming effect.

He hates his fucking hands sometimes. He’s palming himself again, this time leaking against the thinned fabric of his boxers. He doesn’t really notice it until he moans – Goddamn moans – into the phone, like some horny preteen.

“Finn?” Archie asks, suddenly an unsure tone to his voice. Finn flies up a little, looks down at himself. He clears his throat and tries to play it off like it was nothing.

“I’ll see ya’ tonight,” Finn says, goes for casual but ends up sounding panicked, so he hangs up. Right in the middle of Archie’s response, he slams the phone down. Shit.

He still has to meet the others at the pub later, has to sit there in front of Archie and pretend like things are okay. That’s what they do, now. There’s no time to talk deep when they only ever see each other once a month. It’s meant to be all laughs and wondering aloud what Rae might be doing over in Bristol. Sure, that’s another thing to focus on. Something other than the taunting line of his own dick, making an arse of him yet again. This time worse than just getting hard during a make-out with Rae before sex was really a thing they talked about. No, this time it had made him moan, out loud, from his fucking mouth, while listening to Archie talk about something as utterly mundane as playing gigs at the pubs around the area.

He’s still hard. There’s not much else to note about that situation. He’d will himself to just ignore it and move the on, but … it’s red. Leaking.

The phone rings again. Finn breathes through his mouth a few times before picking it up. There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“I just wanted to tell you when to come down to the pub before hanging up. What happened?” Finn looks up through the door to the kitchen at the clock hanging there. It’s well past noon, but Archie knows that Finn likes sleeping in, so he could just tell the truth. Yeah, they’ve never really done anything that was sexual, but is this even that?

He almost says it. Almost just blurts out, I was jerking off. The doorbell goes off. Like timing and everyone around him decided to make a deal – let’s mess with that Nelson lad.

“I was half asleep, mate, just enjoyin’ the couch. I’ll come down around nine, yeah? Someone’s at the door. See ya’,” Finn says. Archie makes this sound that doesn’t come out too often, unless he feels like people aren’t listening to him. Finn hangs up, not wanting to let the conversation push on further.

He stands up and picks up a pair of sweatpants on the way to the door, adjusting himself, now only a half-chub and receding after the embarrassment of the phone call.

He opens the door and stares blankly at a mailman. He’s holding this pretty big box and a little block with a pen. They have a little moment, Finn wondering how obvious his bed head is.

“Finn Nelson?” the man asks, looking from Finn to the box and back again. Finn nods, signs, says thanks and closes the door – all while wondering who the hell would send him a whole damn box. It rattles. He glances at the front of it: Rae, of course. He’d written her a letter or two, with no reply until now. It’s a little much, considering they’re supposed to be just friends now. Not that Finn ever put his romantic relationships over things. He knows that something as simple as friendship can be way more important, and it means just as much. But with Rae it feels muted, like suddenly only watching black and white films, when you’re used to full colour.

Inside there’s an old The Cure record, a small handful of notes, two photos and a copy of the film ‘The Breakfast Club”, with a post-it note stuck to the front of it. Finn is already sitting down, studying the photos. They’re of Rae and a few girls, 5 different ones; two of them are on both the photos. There are notes that tell him their names and what they study. He cannot bring himself to care; it’s rough. With the The Cure vinyl Rae’s written a little note about not remembering if Finn even likes them. He doesn’t, either.

The film is something he gave her ages ago. The note that goes with it thanks him for lending it to her. It was a present, really, but he figures she’s watched the film thin, so it’ll jump, but it has sentimental value, so it would be like her to just give it back. At this rate, Finn will end up having loads of things like it.

He sits and turns over each item, each note, in his hands, while he wonders about the oncoming night. Mostly feels like bailing out.

Rae’s good with words. But when it came to this, to Archie and soft fingers finding hidden spots and wondering eyes, she was silent the whole way through. Finn feels like he should ask her about it.

He needs words all the time. He needs them, even if they are hard on him and may not even lift the weight off of his shoulders. Even if the words come from a mouth that has him falling towards edges he didn’t know he wanted to fall to, despite having been near them before.

Rae cannot answer him. She has so many things to look to. He knows how hard it is on the Gang, not having her around. They miss one person – in turn, she’s missing a whole little group and a place.

Finn stares down as his dick. It’s behind two layers of fabric, but it’s there. He thinks that maybe he should just get to the root of the problem, – and finds himself snorting at the words as they travel through his head – Archie. That’s what best mates are for, right? The tough times, the rough questions.

Maybe after a pint or two.

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