"John, I think you need glasses. Shall I lend you mine?" asked Finch, disturbing John from his moment.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Harold Finch. You are amazing. Like the song says."
They were laid in bed listening to John's iPod on his new docking station Finch had bought him. He'd loaded some lovely songs for the moments they got when they weren't working, and he thought this song very appropriate.
"If you say so, but I'm sure you need the glasses. I'm none of the things you say I am." Finch argued, clearly being defensive.
"Apart from the bit, ummm… 'I know when I compliment her, she won't believe me'. That's true"
"Yes, it is. And it's appropriate 'she'..."
"That's not funny." said John, shaking his head "I don't want or need a she, I have what I want with you."
"If you say so."
John knew Finch was insecure about how looked and how he was perceived by others, even by John.
"Harold, what do you see when you look at me?" John asked, slightly deflecting the moment from finch
"I see... A waste." said Finch, sounding sad.
"Why am I a waste?" John demanded, now feeling defensive himself.
"You are not a waste, John, but your wasted being with me."
John had heard this too much from Harold and it had grown to irritate him. He then knew no amount of romantic gestures, or presents, or loving songs would change how Finch saw what they had. John loved Finch, and would die for him, but Harold couldn't see it, and the more he tried, the worse it would get.
The last time they'd had sometime together, John had got some wine, cooked an amazing dinner, which they ate by candlelight, and he'd covered the bed in rose petals. It was amazing. He'd never done this for anyone else before. And what did finch do?... Nothing... He sounded like he appreciated the gesture, but he clearly wasn't happy.
"I'm not worth all this," Was what he'd said, which kicked John, hard.
Now he'd had enough. He'd tried – he'd even tried to not try – but it was useless.
John sat up and swung his legs out of bed. "Right, whatever. I've had enough." He stood and started to find his clothes
"Where are you going?" Finch asked, sitting up.
"Anywhere your not," John replied bluntly.
"What? Why?"
"I've had enough and I'm not doing this anymore."
Finch just looked at him.
He put on his pants then shirt.
"Six months and still we go around the same bloody song and dance every fucking time. I'm not doing it anymore. I can't do it anymore. As of now, it's over. I am Mr. Reese at all times with you and only at work. No number, no contact. I can't do this anymore so I'm drawing the line."
"Why? Because I'm cautious and I don't understand what you see about me?"
"Because of it all. I'm not doing this all anymore. You change, and maybe it'll turn back but I'm not helping anymore."
"What if I can't change?" Finch looked close to tears, which killed John, but he hurt so much and he needed this to stop. It was for the best.
He put on his coat.
"Then you'll be lonely forever." He said and turned to leave. He arrived at the bedroom door, hand on the knob.
"I need you, John" Finch cried out, tears pouring from his eyes.
"If that's true, you will change. You'll realize I love you and I need you, but I can't carry on with you like this. You're worth so much and until you see it, I'm not seeing you outside of work." John turned the knob and stepped out the door.
Pulling it shut, he then leaned on it. "I love you so much it hurts, but you hurt me with your-self hate more." He whispered to the door. He could hear finch sobbing inside, but he had to leave and he did…