Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
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the thing about finny—
"gene," finny whispers, all wide eyes and curving, follow-me smile, and gene will, there is nowhere on earth gene will not follow him. that smile and mischief has led him out of classes and to the beach and out of trees, and he can see the millions of other places it will take him.
if it is frightening, if it scares him, that one person can hold him so firmly by an invisible lead (by the heart), that finny is in his mind and his every thought and so thoroughly under his skin, then that is all right. his fear crumbles and scatters under the searing heat of finny's smile.
the thing about finny is
finny doesn't worry about anything, and gene worries about, well, everything, and together they fit like opposite halves of a whole. only, sometimes, finny is larger than life, more vitality contained in him than any one person should have, and sometimes it feels like they are actually three halves of a whole-and-a-half, two parts finny, one part gene.
but that's all right, because finny leads and gene follows; finny only ever wants good for gene, and gene wants the best for finny, and their whole-and-a-half is more perfect than any single whole.
—well, he's just
beautiful. it's not a word gene would associate with boys in general, or any other boy specifically, but the word 'beautiful' seems to have been coined with finny in mind. finny is beautiful when he laughs, and pleads, and schemes. there is beauty in his vigor and strength, in his loping run and long form, and at times gene cannot breathe for looking at him.
there is the beauty gene tries desperately not to notice, until finny notices him trying not to notice, and his look says, what are you worried about? it's me.
that's what i'm worried about, gene doesn't say. instead, he leans into the slick curve of finny's mouth, lips parted to taste, fingers trembling slightly.
finny's beauty is golden, and gene traces long arms, lips settling in the hollow of his throat as he surrounds himself in that gold, gold and utter beauty.
he's not someone you say 'no' to
"kiss me," finny orders peremptorily. "kiss me," he repeats, and gene knows he will keep saying it until he complies. their legs tangled together on the bed, gene joins them at the mouth, just one more place where they are tied together. "again," finny murmurs, arching up into gene's weight, and gene gasps helplessly into his mouth.
gene's fingers are clumsy with the buttons on finny's shirt, maybe because of the way he stops to stroke warm skin between every undoing. he lays his hand flat on finny's stomach and finds that he is not the only one trembling with the newness of this. finny loops a hand around the back of gene's neck and pulls him in.
"gene" : his name is a command, and to finny, gene can never say no.
and it seems that
finny's smile can turn gene's head from across the room. it's a wonder no one else notices, but maybe that's because finny shines so brightly no one can see gene hungering after his light.
gene is in love with him
really, it can't be anything but love. only love could tie him in knots like this, and put that sweet ache in his chest. only love could set his heart thudding faster at the sound of carefree laughter.
when he says it first, it is not when he thinks he might. it is not in their bed after they have learned each other's scents and sounds, and it is not in the quiet moments in their room when they study together.
it is, in fact, after one time they jump out of the tree, because finny is motion and dare-devilry, and if gene could not love that he could not love finny at all.
"i love you," he says, and it feels as natural as the sun on his face. finny beams at him, a wide happy grin of everything good in the world, and gene says it again: "i love you."
and he really does.
even after
he does.
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