A/N: Okay, this is different from the stuff I post in my oneshot series, so this gets to be its own story. It's a little sappy, but I hope you enjoy it anyway xD
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Something More Beautiful
"—I mean, seriously, all I did was throw a notebook at his head."
"Finny, you didn't have to do that."
"He was making fun of you! No one can make fun of you except me."
Gene scoffed. "So what did he tell you after class?"
"Oh, he yelled a bit, told me someone could have been hurt, the usual. Threatened to drop my grade, but it really can't get too much lower, anyway, so no worries there." He laughed. "It was worth it."
"No it wasn't. But thanks."
"Any time. Or at least until I run out of notebooks."
Gene laughed; Finny beamed, and he felt his chest ache in a way that was all too familiar as of late.
-
I know
I know it's terrible. It's hard to admit things like this, even to yourself, but when it's bubbling at the surface, pressing for your attention every minute of every day, it becomes rather difficult to ignore. The worst part is that I can't even talk to anyone about it, because what would they think of me then? They'd label me, derogatory labels, and no one wants that; you can't blame me for not wanting that. One minute I'd be retaining my title of 'Finny the Athletic Star' and then as soon as word got out I'd be pinned down with those names, all those horrible names. But thinking about this doesn't do me any good. My brain knows common sense, and common sense is telling me not to admit anything, but lately I'd rather be listening to my heart, which is singing a different song.
-
"Pick a hand."
Gene had been on the verge of completing his last homework problem of the night when Finny had stuck two fists in front of his nose.
"Pick a hand, Gene. I promise neither one has a snail in it this time." He smiled, and it seemed the whole room was shining from the light of it.
Gene sighed, put down his pen, and pointed to Finny's right hand. "That one."
Finny grinned and said, "Pick the other one."
Gene knew better than to question this, so he pointed to the opposite hand. Finny uncurled his fist and the half-opened head of a flower fell out.
"What's this?" Gene asked, picking it up and examining it. "I thought these flowers were all in bloom a few weeks ago."
"They were. All except that one," Finny said, pointing at it and smiling.
"So…?"
"The reason I brought it in," Finny said, his smile growing steadily, "is because it's a special flower. It was a little too shy to bloom with other ones, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful." He could feel his cheeks reddening, just a little, and silently he said a prayer of thanks that no one had barged in the room during his explanation.
Gene turned the flower over in his hand. "Finny. That made sense. You're right. Thanks."
The entire power of the English language could not express how joyful Finny felt at that moment. He had done something right, and it had made a special person happy.
-
It's the little things
Those are the ones that really matter, all the little things. The tiny things you can do for people, the things that no one else would think to do, those are the ones that matter. Realizing this drew me one step closer to doing a little thing for myself—telling him. But what if he didn't feel the same way? I couldn't spring this on him, not now. Not now.
By the way
Oh God, I blushed, didn't I? I freaking blushed. I'm ruined if he saw it, I really am.
-
He saw it
For some reason, I've kept that flower in my pocket every day since then. It's been about a week; it's probably wilted by now; it probably smells bad, too, but I don't notice, and neither does he. But I did notice something about him that day that he gave it to me…he was blushing. I know he was. What he said was really beautiful (I wonder if he came up with that on his own?) but if anyone should have been blushing, it was me. I came so close to just telling him right there, just tackling him into a hug like that flower was a declaration of undying devotion. But it wasn't, it was just Finny being Finny, just being a bit eccentric and very charming, like he is to everybody. Right?
-
Gene found a note under his pillow one night. It was early to be going to bed, but there were two big tests the next day, and everyone knew you had to get a good night's sleep to do well on a test.
He unfolded the note and glanced towards Finny's bed. He was out, presumably playing some kind of made-up card game in Brinker's room. Occasionally a shout of indignation would rise from down the hall.
Gene peered at the note. It was written in a strange hand, slightly messy, and Gene thought it might be Leper's writing, which was odd. The note simply said, "Classroom 32, 9:00. Please." Gene read the note again, comprehending for the first time that the writer wanted to meet him there. He groaned. He had already put on his pajamas. Oh well, if they want to see me this late, they can put up with it. So he headed out of the room and down the stairs.
When he reached the classroom, the door was open, and Finny was sitting on the teacher's desk, looking strangely nervous. When he saw Gene, he motioned him to come in and then shut the door behind him.
"So, what's this about?" Gene asked.
"I see you got the note…umm…I've got something I have to tell you. In private."
"So you sent for me to come to a deserted classroom in my pajamas?"
"Well, umm…yeah, I suppose I did," said Finny, scratching the back of his head.
"Okay…" Gene waited, arms crossed.
"Can you do something for me?"
"I guess. What is it?"
"Umm…close your eyes."
"If you want me to pick a hand, I can do that with my eyes open," Gene said, smirking very faintly.
"No, no," Finny laughed nervously. "Just close your eyes, okay?"
"All right." Gene shut his eyes and dropped his arms to his sides. Realizing they were shaking, he quickly crossed them again.
He waited. Nothing happened.
"Uhh, Finny?" Suddenly he felt arms wrapping around him, and a presence leaning close…pleasantly close?
"Open your eyes," Finny breathed.
He opened them to find Finny's face centimeters away from his own, and he gasped. Finny cringed a little, but went on. "Are you okay with this?" he whispered ardently.
Gene stared into the other boy's eyes, slightly hazy and a deep green. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod and closed the distance between them.
Finny's heart exploded with the song of someone finding a purpose, a meaning, something to live for.
-
Really it's all okay now
I was right about the names, once word got out. We both got called a lot of horrible things, and I was worried that I had caused this, but he honestly doesn't seem to care, and so I'm perfectly happy. It sounds like a storybook ending, doesn't it, but if that's what it is, if that's what it's supposed to be, it doesn't matter to me what it sounds like. Really it's all okay now.
-
That's all that matters
It turned out perfectly, exactly the way I had wanted it; I was just too embarrassed to take the first step. I guess I really am like that flower. But that's just fine, because I know Finny will always be there, Finny will always take care of me, and one day we'll blossom into something even more beautiful, together.