[A/N: Sorry for the slow update of chapter 2, been busy in life and should be studying for exams…oops! I have an overall direction in mind and this slight diversion was needed to be able to eventually get there, be patient and it will all come together eventually :) Would love to get your feedback, very new this whole fanfic/writing thing and would love to know if people want me to continue or not! Enjoy (I hope!) :) ]


Pulling back, Finn slid his fingers through her hair, tucking the lose strands behind her ear as they nestled gently together, their bodies pressed close. He sighed a shaky breath, staring into her eyes and reading so many emotions flashing across them as they shone in the dim light of her room, her tears still glistening. I love 'er, flashed through his mind as he continued to gaze at her with wonder, still scared that one breath wrong and his world could end all over again, like it did that dark night on his doorstep with a leather jacket thrust into his arms.

"Rae, I…uh, I wann' tell you something," he stuttered, unsure of how she'd react but certain that he needed her to know, right there and then. "Rae, I lov…"

"No", she muttered, shaking her head vehemently and pushing against his arm as if desperate to get away. "No, not that Finn, don't say that, I don't believe it" tumbled from her lips, her eyes widening with fear.

"I don't care if you don't believe it, Rae, that don't make it untrue", he continued, desperation and frustration rising in his voice. "I do, I love…"

"NO". She pushed against him hard, moving him away as she swung her legs around from the bed and stood up. He watched her stiffen as she rose, her muscles tightening beneath her clothes as her walls were built up around her, brick by solid brick. "I don't want to hear that, Finn, don't say that. I can't hear that".

He sank back into the bed, his hand coming up to rub against his face with exhaustion. He felt suddenly tired, a deep knot forming low down in his stomach, like a hangover from the night before, except this time there were no happy, patchy memories to ease the feeling. Leaving the back of his hand resting across his eyes, blocking out the dim glow of the bedside lamp and the children's wallpaper staring back at him, he quietly muttered, "Why?" Resignation tinged the simple question with a deep sadness that left his voice sounding flat in the silence of the room.

"Because."

"Because WHY, Rae?"

"Jus' because."

He sighed, giving in. He knew that sometimes he could make her talk and sometimes he couldn't. He knew that sometimes she would allow him a glimpse into her world, her mind, and sometimes she wouldn't. He knew that sometimes, for just the briefest of moments, she would relax into his arms and his kiss and would let him show her what he truly felt as he curled his tongue against hers. And sometimes, she wouldn't. Or maybe, sometimes she couldn't. He ran his fingers through his hair, blinking back a familiar prickling feeling in the back of his eyes. Don't cry, you fuckin' twat. Don't fuckin' cry. He couldn't let her see that, he wanted to be there, really there for her, so he had to stay strong enough for the both of them and he knew that crying on her Care Bear bedding wasn't going to prove anything to her. He hadn't let anyone see him cry since the day his mum had left anyway, and he couldn't change that now.

He remembered back to the day she'd left, standing at the bay window of the house watching her as she carried an overstuffed suitcase to her car. He remembered her struggling to lift it, her face scrunched up, her nose crinkled at the weight of it in her hands. He remembered his dad behind him, telling him to be strong, as he watched her pause at the driver's door, unable to look back towards the house before climbing in. He remembered the silent tears running down his cheeks as she started the engine, not having the courage to look up at the house, her eyes kept firmly away. All Finn had known in that one moment was a broken heart and the feeling that he just hadn't been good enough. Perhaps if he'd done better at school, or behaved better, or hadn't broken the kitchen window with his football the summer before, or cried when he'd skinned his knees and hands coming off his new bike on Christmas Day, perhaps then she could have loved him more and stayed. And now, lying in the semi-lit silence of Rae's bedroom, her personality and life sprayed across the walls like graffiti, he felt the same icy cold pain creep into his chest. She didn't love him and she wouldn't let him love her.

Not good enough.

Again.

Swiftly, he pushed himself up from the bed; grabbing his jacket and searching the room for his long-since discarded shoes, muttered swear words floating out with each breath. He heard her turn around and could feel her watching him but he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He didn't have the courage because looking into those eyes, that always seemed so full of wonder and hurt all at once, would push him over the edge and that prickle, that stinging pain at the back of his own would turn to tears and he wouldn't be able to walk out the door again.

"Where th' fuck are my fuckin' shoes, for fuck sake?" He snarled to himself, roaming the carpet with his eyes.

"Jus'…just under the bed". Her voice was small, quiet, and full of tears but he steeled himself against it, his own bricks slotting firmly into place around him. Dropping to a squat his eyes found what he was searching for and he fished the old, comfortable trainers out from their hiding place, standing up to quickly pull them on each feet, tucking the laces loosely down the sides. He stood up, taking a deep, steadying breath as he shrugged his jacket on, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets as he pulled it tightly around himself as he kept his back to her.

"I can't…" he cleared his throat, biting back the crack in his voice as he heard the tiny, sharp intake of breath behind him. "I can't do this right now, Rae. But… but I need you t'know that I'm gonn' stay. You asked me to, and I'm gonna", he swallowed. "For you. I jus', I jus' can't do this right now".

Turning on his heel, still avoiding meeting her wide-eyed, fearful stare with his own he paused, holding his breath deep inside the pit of his lungs, scared to breathe out, before grabbing her suddenly, crushing his lips against hers for one last stolen moment of perfect, before hurrying out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

He heard a single, strained sob escape from behind him as he jogged quickly down the stairs and out the door into the cold, crisp air of the Lincolnshire night, his fists balled tightly in his pockets, one hand wrapped around the keys to his bike. His heart pounded steadily in his chest as he uncurled his fingers and reached for his helmet with an unsteady grasp, sliding it on and settling himself into the seat. Another shuddered breath was pulled from somewhere deep inside him as he kicked the engine into life and he narrowed his eyes against his pain, refusing to let himself feel it, before pulling out of the driveway and disappearing into the inky blackness of the streets ahead.

"Don't cry, you fuckin' twat. Don't fucking cry."

And he finally breathed out.

Pulling his bike into the shadowy car park he glided to a stop and killed the engine, unsure of how he'd gotten there but relieved that he was. Climbing off he left his helmet swinging gently from one handle as he walked purposefully to the cemetery gates.

"Fuck sake", he muttered, as he noticed the large chain looped through the ornate ironwork gates, rattling the padlock pointlessly as he scanned upwards, weighing up his chances. "Fuck it" he breathed into the wind as he lifted his foot and dragged himself up and over the gates, dropping down the other side and scanning his surroundings to make sure he was clear.

Effortlessly, without thought, he navigated his way through the headstones and statues, some pathways carved deeply in his memory forever. It had only been seven months since his Nan had died but he'd visited her every week, tidying her grave while the music from his headphones filtered through the fog of pain in his heart. He watched other people tearfully pay visits to long-lost loved ones and watched the muttered prayers or quiet chatter about life without them, but had never had the words to talk to his Nan. He wasn't good with words, but now that she was gone and all that was left were memories, it felt even harder. Turning past a tall, praying angel he took the last few steps to her plot, his heart calming into a dull ache of sadness and longing. He dropped quietly to his knees, his fingers reaching out to trace across the carved dash between her birth and death, feeling how it was already smoothing from the weather, or perhaps his own touch. A dash. A whole person jus' nuttin' but a tiny, little line. He thought to himself sadly.

"She were my Nan", pierced through the silence of the night that wrapped around him, and he jumped slightly at his own voice. "She were my Nan and she were more than a little fuckin' line!" He snarled into the air, his lips curling back in pain and anger as his voice broke and a single, choked sob escaped from within his chest before suddenly years of hurt and rage tumbled out in breathless cries as he finally let himself break.

"Why'd you 'ave to go an' fuckin' die, Nan? I need you. I always needed you. I've got no one, Nan, not anymore. Mum's gone, dad just laughs his way throu' fuckin' life and Rae…fuck, Nan. Rae. I love her, Nan, I love her so hard it breaks me up inside and she won't let me love her 'cause she's broken more than me." A wet, tear-stained laugh bubbled from his lips as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "There's a fuckin' joke ain't it, Nan. Broken more than the stupid twat sat in wet grass at midnight cryin' to a gravestone. Fuck".

Pushing himself to his feet he paced back and forth in front of the small, neat little plot, the overgrown graves of the neighbours showing the signs of lives forgotten after death.

"How do I do it, Nan? Tell me. Please? Show me somehow. Show me how it is that I don't fuck it all up. Show me how t'love her, Nan. She needs me." He paused, the tiredness and exhaustion washing over him once more, muttering under his breath as he slowly sank back to his knees, before turning to lean his back gently against the gravestone. Dropping his head to rest against the cool, damp stone his voice grew soft, his tears slowly drying, his eyes becoming heavy.

"You'd 'ave loved her too, Nan. She's like a fuckin' whirlwin' or summat. Always bangin' on about it, always talkin'. And her music, Nan, fuck she knows her music", he sniffed, yawning away his wistful smile.

"Nah, ya know summat, Nan, she's not a whirlwin' at all, she's like a landslide. Yeah. She starts off all slow like, at first, quiet like, but once you know her, she just tumbles throu' your life and you jus' get swept along. Yeah. That's her", he sighed; his eyes closing as he wrapped himself up into his coat.

"A fuckin' landslide."