Every stress leaves an indelible scar, and the organism pays for its survival after a stressful situation by becoming a little older.
Hans Selye
Finn had held up admirably while I was in the shower. I would have almost gone as far as to say he hadn't even realized I was gone, but he was obviously glad to see me come back. He had somehow weaseled another box of Sour Patch Kids open and was busy sorting them into piles based on color, then splitting the piles again based on….well, I honestly wasn't sure what he was basing that on, and I had no way of asking. The tiny piles of candy, each only a few pieces big, underscored just how badly we needed to find a way for Finn to communicate, and made me feel terrible that I hadn't tried harder before now.
Mr. Shue was talking, telling him about his plans with Emma, something about the zoo, but his eyes were trained on the table, watching his favorite student and surrogate child fuss with his food. From my angle, I could see how tightly his hands were clenching each other under the table.
I was pretty sure that Before Finn had just crammed them in his mouth by the handful, with no regards to either color or his gag reflex. Now the sorting was tightly controlled, just like everything else Finn did these days. When he finally lost it, it wasn't going to be pretty.
Then I wondered if 'Before' would always have a capital letter in my mind from now on.
When Mr. Shue looked up and saw me standing there, he didn't even try to disguise the relief in his eyes. Not that I blamed him. Finn was kind of….wearing these days. He didn't mean to be, and it wasn't that he actually did anything to drive you crazy. It was more what he didn't do. Talk, laugh, cry, act like he even knew that you were there, that you would go to the moon and back for him if he would just ask. I would have put up with him screaming, with him calling me terrible names, even with him getting violent rather then that voodoo doll stare he had gotten so good at recently. It just got so tiring to sit there for hour after hour, talking to a brick wall.
And that was really what my life had become. Prattling on at Finn about anything I could think of that might possibly interest him, then anything else that I could think of. I knew that Finn didn't even know who Alexander McQueen was, much less why he should care about the mans latest (and final) collection, but I told him all about it anyway, just so I wouldn't scream from pure frustration.
I would have given up, except for the small flashes of the old Finn that I was still seeing. Like yesterday with Tina and Mercedes, or when he was trying to explain to me about the wedding rings. Or when he had first seen Mr. Shuester, and had leapt out of the house and run up to the man. Tiny little things that meant he was trying to reach out to us as hard as we were trying to reach out to him.
It was hard for anyone outside of the family (and sometimes I think it was hard for Dad, too) to see that, though, so I took pity on the man. "Finn, Mr. Shue needs to start getting ready for his date, and we need to get going for our errands. So say goodbye. By the way, Mr. Shue? I would recommend wearing the dark blue sweater. It brings out your eyes. Also? Lose about half the hair gel. Just saying."
A wry smile touched the corners of the man's mouth, and he actually nodded. "I will take both things under advisement, Kurt, thank you."
Finn signed his own thanks; making gestures to include both of his gifts, then gave a tiny, pathetic little wave. He walked Mr. Shue to the door, then stood there, watching as he drove away. He did the same thing when Carole left for work, or if I had to be out of his sight. It was like he was afraid that every time we left him, he would never see us again.
Because that's never happened to Finn. Someone he loved has never just walked out of his life and never come back.
It had probably happened more times then I would ever know about. His Dad, Puck, his mother's boyfriends, friends, Finn had had a lot of upset in his life so far. I tugged on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll talk Carole into letting you spend the day in bachelor heaven. Now take that lion downstairs. Candy stays up here, otherwise you'll forget about it and we'll have ants."
I was putting my jacket on before I realized that my drivers license and credit cards were all still downstairs. "Hang on, I'm coming with you."
Finn put the lion on the foot of his bed, and I wondered if the fact that he deliberately turned it so it was facing the door was by choice, or an unconscious thing. It wasn't a cute little cartoon lion at all, it was realistic down to the fangs that barely peeked over the top lip. It looked tough, or at least tough enough to reassure a scared 17 year old boy who didn't know who might try and come into his room at night. "What are you going to call your new friend?"
Why did I even bother asking? It was just as likely that Finn wouldn't name it anything at all, and, even if he did, he wasn't about to tell me what he had chosen. But it was a new topic of conversation, something that could keep us occupied for a while.
He shrugged, and I started rattling off names as we climbed the stairs. "Whiskers? Kitty? Boots? Midnight? Shadow?" Those were all normal cat names, right? "Simba? Aslan? Leo?"
We were at the door now, and Finn stopped, giving me a nervous look. "It's alright, Finn. I'll be here with you, and nothing will happen, I promise."
He didn't budge. "You made it out before. Look, it's just a few steps to the car, then we'll be fine. Park, mall, home. Just two stops." I walked through the doorway myself, then extended a hand. "Come on, Finn, you can do it."
His fingers didn't even curl all the way about mine, just rested lightly against them. But he did step forward and over the threshold, his eyes closing like he expected something to come at him. His hand was icy cold. "That's it. Now, what about going fancy for a name? Vera, Armani, Gucci, Versace? Zebadiah? Clamydius?"
The last one earned me a shaky smile. Finn knew that I was trying to distract him until we were in the car, but at least he was playing along. "We could go with musical names, since Mr. Shue gave him to you. Journey, Queen, Pretender, Tenor, C-note."
Then we were at the Navigator and Finn dropped my hand to jump inside. Step one, which I had thought might be the hardest, had been accomplished. Finn was out of the house, and had made it to the car under his own power. The first step was the hardest, right? It would all flow from here.
Once he was actually in the seat, Finn released a long sigh and slumped backwards against the seat, going almost scarily boneless. It wasn't until right then, watching him shiver because his body was covered in cold sweat, that I realized what a scary place the world actually was for him. A few steps to me, miles and miles to him. Maybe we should skip the park and cut the mall visit short.
Finn gave me a tentative, grateful smile when I voiced that thought out loud, and it made my heart jump, just like always. Even if it sometimes took me a while to catch on, I understood Finn as well as anyone in the world.
"How about lunch? I'll even brave a drive thru so we can eat in the car." It would wreck havoc on my complexion, not to mention my thighs, but it would be worth it to see that smile again.
He shook his head and turned to stare blankly out of the window. He was mentally finished already, and just waiting for me to catch up. "Nothing? Alright, let me know if you change your mind." I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but I really wanted to just open the car door and let him back out.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You were the one who kept insisting that Finn would be fine, so get out there and prove that he will.
With a sudden surge of courage, I put the car in gear. "We're going to the mall, just the bookstore, though. I already called them, and they have a book on beginning sign, which I think is on a level that we can both pick up quickly. Then back home." My voice was calm, at war with the rapid fluttering of my heart.
I was treated to another smile, but there was no humor in it. It was a smile that meant Finn was trying to make me happy, not that he was experiencing any pleasure himself.
I turned on the radio in an attempt to fill the heavy silence in the car, but Finn reached out and turned it back off. He didn't make even the tiniest noise, but I understood anyway. Sometimes, hearing the music, even the music you love, just ends up causing you more pain.
Still, it didn't take long for the silence in the car to grow first awkward, then completely suffocating. Finn had his face turned to the window, making it impossible to tell if he was feeling the same way. I took a deep breath and went back to the same topic I had been circling for the last hour. "I got it." He looked over for the first time, his eyes questioning me. "You have a stuffed dog named 'Kitty', right?" He nodded. "So, now you have a stuffed lion, so why don't we call it 'Wolf'? Right? So there's a dog named after a cat, and a cat named after a dog."
Now it was a genuine smile. Finn's lips actually formed the name, though of course he didn't say it. Then he nodded. I nodded back. "Wolf it is. Can I turn the radio back on now?"
He shrugged, which I was going to take as a yes. I wasn't a complete jerk, though, so I turned it to a station that wouldn't play anything too familiar to him. Finn gave no indication that he even noticed my gesture, but the tension in the car started to ease, little by little.
By the time we made it to Barnes and Noble, he seemed to be back in his usual good humor. I started to pull up to the entrance, but he pointed further down the parking lot. "Is there somewhere else you would like to go?" The bookstore had its own entrance, but there were at least two more into the mall proper.
Finn nodded and gestured for me to keep going. We passed another entrance, but he wouldn't let me stop. One more and Finn was pointing at something. I looked over, taking care not to hit any of the pedestrians that insisted on strolling right in front of my car.
I caught sight of what he was pointing at, and had to smile. A deli, one that was attached to the mall. "Hungry after all?" It was a foolish question. Finn Hudson was never not hungry.
He rummaged though the dash until he found a napkin and a pen. With careful strokes, he scrawled out a single word. COMPRIMIZ
His spelling hadn't improved much, but it wasn't hard to make out the word: compromise. Finn was hungry, he had always been hungry, but he hadn't wanted to go through a drive thru. Not because he wouldn't destroy his body like that, but because he knew that I wouldn't want to destroy mine. This was his way of looking out for me, as repayment for me looking out for him.
Or he really wants a sub sandwich. What did I say to you about reading too much into Finn's actions? He's…mysterious these days.
That was a kind way to put it. Mysterious, stupid, crazy, mute, traumatized, broken, it all went into the entire package that was Finn Hudson these days. "Lunch for both of us, then." If Finn hadn't been thinking about me, then he wouldn't have told me that it was a compromise, right?
The little voice had nothing to say to that, which meant point to me. I parked a ways back, always mindful of where I was, and what could happen to both me and my car if I got too close to anyone else.
Finn got his seatbelt off without a problem, but paused with his hand on the door, tense and worried. I came around and opened it for him, holding out a hand. "Come on."
He was still, his body turned very slightly towards me, but his hands were limp in his lap. I didn't say anything else, but I didn't drop my hand either. If I had to take him back home right now, I would, but there was no way I was leaving him alone in the car while I got the book, not even for five minutes. It had only taken that long for someone to grab him last time.
The mental war lasted for so long that I was starting to curse my decision to bring him at all. The first step, the one out of the house had been minor compared to this. This was a great leap into the unknown, into a mall where he would be surrounded by people who might do anything to him, and his only defense was me, who couldn't do anything that Puck probably hadn't tried last time.
You have a mean kick. And you have a shriek on you that could shatter glass if it came down to it. Plus, you have the added bonus of the fact that you would die defending him, no questions asked. Believe me, that helps.
I didn't want anyone to have to die. I just wanted to get Finn through what had happened, and give him a push into getting his life back. That was it. I wanted him to be able to talk, and go outside without being paralyzed by fear, and attend his junior year without being held back. I wanted the old Finn back, even if that meant giving him back to Rachel for more abuse.
You want Finn, period.
Not like this. I wanted Finn to be happy and safe, and, while I could do my best to make him safe, I would never make him happy, not in a million years. Rachel was cruel, but she was right. I was a boy, which meant I was not only last in his sexual list, I wasn't even on it. Thinking anything else was pure delusion on my part.
I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I jumped and nearly screamed when Finn's hand closed around my wrist. He startled backwards, but didn't let me go. Instead his eyes searched mine, questioning and deep. There was no way I could tell him what I had actually been thinking, so I settled for giving him a gentle tug. He came easily, his eyes never leaving mine. I was upset and he knew it, but what he didn't know was how to fix the problem. "It's alright Finn, I promise."
His lips moved, forming a word that I couldn't understand. "What?" Finn almost never did that, so what he had been trying to tell me must be important. But he wouldn't repeat the gesture. He just stared at me with a look that said either it should have been obvious, or I should have paid more attention the first time.
The deli wasn't crowded, and we were both able to take our time deciding what we wanted. Finn chose quickly, but it took me a while to both make my choice and be clear about his. There was a lot of pointing and hand motions as he tried to explain what type of bread he wanted, as well as which of the dozen or so condiments he needed.
Sometimes it was the little things about him not talking that seemed the hardest. His explanation, which should have taken all of 15 seconds, had drug out 3 minutes or more, and I had to keep waving people to go ahead of us. They did, but not without giving Finn funny looks, like whatever was wrong with him might be contagious. I was used to getting those looks, but I had never seen anyone give them to Finn. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did and just didn't care. It was hard to tell what did and did not bother Finn since he had come back.
The nice thing about eating with someone is that neither one of you has to talk. You can just concentrate on eating and it was easy to pretend that this was a normal outing between two normal people. That Finn and I would eat and then he would break off to go to Spencers or the FYE Store, and I would hit the more fashionable (but still pretty pathetic) places. Then we would meet up just in time to go home. Just like things might have been if Finn and I had ever decided to hang out together, just the pair of us. It was nice to pretend for just a few minutes.
All too soon we were finished, though. I spooned the last of my yogurt into my mouth and Finn took an enormous final bite of his club sandwich, extra bacon and cheese and no mayo. Then he drained his drink in quick pulls and gathered both of our dishes together to throw away.
"Do you want to go anywhere but the bookstore?" I didn't offer Finn my hand this time, because I knew that he wouldn't take it. Not to mention it would get us teased and possibly beaten up. I would have taken the risk if I thought that Finn wanted it, but he had already stepped away and into the doorway, eyes scanning for any possible threat. I started to step towards him, but he held a hand up until he had checked out as much of the mall as possible. Then he nodded and made a 'come here' gesture.
Aww, it's kind of cute when he's all protective.
It was cute; at least it would have been if it wasn't so darn sad. Finn shouldn't need to protect anyone, least of all me. He shouldn't be worried about that at all. But he was. I wondered if he was looking for the man who had taken him, or if he even remembered who that man was. Maybe everyone was potentially that man, and that was why he was so nervous around Dad, and around all these strangers.
I took a few seconds to count the people around us, and wonder what it would be like to be afraid of every single person in this mall, to think that one of them might steal me, or hurt me, or even kill me. Just pretending put chills up and down my spine, and I couldn't imagine living like this.
But Finn did. He did it day in day out, and had been doing it for at least two weeks. Suddenly his fears, the lights, the doors, his refusal to leave the house, it all made more sense. It was easy to defend yourself if the lights were on, and the doors were all open so you could make a quick escape, and you never left the house, so you could know every nook and cranny and how you might use it to your advantage. Maybe half the reason that Finn looked so blank these days was because he was so mentally exhausted.
"Finn." I waited until he was looking directly at me before I continued. "How about you let me do that?"
He gave me a confused look, but at least he was focused on me, instead of everything around him. I tried to clarify. "I know you're worried, and that you want to take care of me, but why don't you let me do the worrying for right now, ok? I'll keep both of us safe. You just relax."
The look in his eyes said that his didn't trust me with that task, but that he very much wanted to. "Please, Finn, let me try."
After what felt like an eternity, he nodded and his body relaxed slightly. Not much, just enough to be noticeable. I stopped at the little pretzel kiosk and bought him a lemonade, less because I thought he might be thirsty, and more to give him something to hold on to and keep his hands occupied. "If you spill this in the bookstore, you are…in huge trouble."
I had barely stopped myself from telling him that he was a dead man. I would have said it to anyone else, but I knew that Finn would take it far too literally and end up panicking. Not that he didn't have reason to, of course, but I wanted this to be a good day, one where he understood that not everyone would try and hurt him, and that the rest of the family would keep him safe.
Finn kept in step with me while on the way to the bookstore, his focus going between the lemonade in his hands and his feet. I touched his back twice to guide him correctly, and both times I could feel that his muscles were so tense he was shivering. He was trying so hard to let me take care of him, but he just wasn't ready to fully trust me yet.
"Almost there." I was proud of the fact that I still sounded confident, that my voice didn't waver at all. "Just a one stop at the bookstore, then we can go home."
The color was rapidly leaving his face, and I prayed briefly that Finn would neither pass out nor throw up. His fingers were tight on the cup. "One little stop."
"Sir, you can't have a drink in the store." The man's voice was gentle and unthreatening, but I was rapidly coming to find out that there was no such thing as gentle and unthreatening with men these days. At least not in Finn's mind. He started to back up, and I knew I had seconds to fix this before he fell apart. I put my body in between the two of them. "I'm sorry, my brother is….. um….autistic. That cup is the only thing preventing a total meltdown. I just need to pick up one book that they're holding behind the desk and then we'll leave. He won't spill, I promise.""
Lying had never come naturally to me, and if the situation hadn't been so desperate I could have never pulled it off. As it was, I could tell that he didn't quite believe me, but he did seem to sense that something was off about Finn, who was looking at the ground with his eyes shut; probably pretending that he was anywhere but here right now. Actually, he was giving Finn a long stare. "Do I know the two of you? Your brother looks very familiar."
That was a wrinkle that hadn't occurred to me. Everyone in Lima knew who Finn was, since his picture had been everywhere, but I hadn't considered that anyone else would recognize him. "I don't think so. Mitchell here is very shy."
I prayed that Finn wouldn't blow this by choosing this moment to not only talk, but tell everyone that he was neither autistic nor named Mitchell. Luckily, he didn't, just stayed as still as a statue. The employee backed down, no doubt with visions of ADA violations and lawsuits dancing through his head. "Alright, just be quick."
"Thanks." I all but drug Finn over to the desk, where I picked up my book and paid as quickly as possible. I took Finn outside through the bookstore entrance, hoping that the fresh air would help. He breathed in big gulps of air, as if he had been choking to death inside. I patted his back again. "See, you did it. I told you that I wouldn't let anything happen."
He couldn't even summon the weak smile he had given me earlier. Carole had been right; it was too much for him, too soon. Why hadn't I listened to her?
Because you weren't paying attention, that's why. You listened to Mercedes, and you listened to Tina, and you let them tell you that they knew Finn better then you did. If you had listened to your own instincts, you would have known to leave him at home.
For once, I was as silent as Finn during the walk back to the car. He climbed into the seat and closed his eyes, seeming to go to sleep before I could even make it around to the drivers side. It was one of the ways he dealt this stress these days, by just shutting himself down. It nearly killed me to think about where he had learned that trick, and why.
Carole was still gone when we got home, thankfully. If she had seen the condition I brought Finn home in, she would have never leave me alone with him again. I shook Finn's shoulder. "We're home."
It took a few minutes to get him to the point where he could slide out of the car, blinking tiredly and swaying on his feet. If he was pleased to be home, he didn't show it. In fact, he didn't act like he had any idea where he was.
I took his arm and guided him towards the house. "Come on, love." The endearment slipped out without my thinking about it, but Finn didn't react. He just let me lead him downstairs and put him to bed, still fully clothed. He did toe his sneakers off with a little bit of gentle coaxing, but he pulled away from me when I tried to help him get his T-shirt off, so I left well enough alone. I pulled the blankets around him and turned on the white noise machine by the bed, hoping the block enough noise that he could get some rest. "I'll wake you up for dinner."
No response, but I left anyway, because I had hurt him enough for one day. I didn't cry of course, because that had never done much for me, but I did sit quietly in front of the television, mindlessly focused on some show I knew nothing about.
Things had taken longer then I though they had, though not as long as they had felt, and certainly not as long as it had probably felt to Finn. Carole appeared about two hours later, weighed down with grocery bags. "Hello, Baby, how are things? How's Finn?"
Every thought I have has the bad habit of flashing across my face, and she could read it in an instant. "What happened? Is he alright?"
"He's fine, I think. You were right; he wasn't ready to go anywhere. I'm sorry, Carole. I, uh, I messed up." I very seldom heard my voice sound quite so small.
She sighed. "What happened?"
I went over the day in as much detail as I could, telling her about lunch and skipping the park and what had happened at the bookstore. "Then he fell asleep in the car and he's pretty much been like that all afternoon."
She looked outside. "Is he still out there?"
"No, I got him to come inside and go to bed, but he was pretty out of it."
That earned me a sad chuckle. "He's always been like that. I always swore I didn't know what I would do when he got too big for me to carry. But he's pretty good about letting you guide him. When he's really out, though, he's out cold."
"I didn't mean to upset him. I just…I should have listened to you." It was hard to admit, and I knew that Carole had every right to be upset with me.
She sat down on the couch next to me. 'Kurt, it's alright. I know that you love Finn as much as I do, and you want him to get better."
Kurt loves him more then you do. Well, maybe not more, but as much, just in a different way. Both of you want what's best for Finn.
There was no voicing that thought, though, and Carole kept going. "I think you were right to try, though. There's a line between babying and comforting, and I might be babying him. It's just hard to see him as almost grown right now."
I almost wished that she had yelled, because now I felt terrible. I hadn't done what was best for Finn, and if I had taken just a few minutes to think about it, I would have known that. "Yeah, look how well that turned out." My voice was hoarse and ugly and I cleared my throat a few times.
"But it sounds like you handled it really well. You changed plans in the middle, and got him home safe. Finn's lucky to have you watching out for him."
I'm sure he feels lucky right now.
"Everything I do with him is wrong." The words came out without conscious thought.
She nodded, and there were more sadness in that slight movement then should have been possible. "I know. But believe me, Kurt, you aren't any different then the rest of us. Do I let Finn hide in the house, because he's secure there? He can't spend the rest of his life in our basement. But how can I push him out, when he's so obviously afraid? I don't even know how I'm going to get him to deal with the therapist tomorrow, or how I'm going to pay for it once he's there. My insurance will only cover 12 sessions, and he's going to need more then that. So I have to come up with $300 per session, for a kid who probably won't even speak to this woman. I can't leave him at home either, though, because he's not getting better by himself. He won't so much as look at your father, and I have no idea how to fix that either. So, all of the choices are wrong, and what do I do?"
"I don't know." I wanted to say something to comfort her, but there was nothing. Finn might be in therapy for the rest of his life, and still never get over what had happened to him. What would happen to him in the long term if he couldn't start healing now?
"Exactly. It's alright not to know, and it's alright to make mistakes. So today didn't work out the way you wanted it to, at least you tried. No matter what you to wrong, you're still making his life better then it was a few weeks ago. Just love him, Kurt, and do your best. It's all any of us can do for him right now."
Ok, we can do that.
"I'll try." The words came out sounding weak and I forced them to be better. "I mean, I will. Don't worry, Carole, we can do this. You, me, and Dad, we'll be enough for Finn."
Her eyes told me that she didn't believe that, even as her mouth smiled. "Have I ever told you that I love you, Kurt?"
No, but I had wanted her to for a while. I shook my head and studied the countertop. Please, please, please….
"Well, that was a mistake. I love you, baby, just like I love Finn. You're both my kids now, and I would do anything for you."
As desperate as the situation was, I did feel a warmth in my chest at her words. "Thank you." I wanted to be able to tell her that I loved her, too, but I couldn't quite do it.
She read my mind. "It will come in time. We're still new to each other, and new to being a family. When you love Finn and I, you'll be able to say it without any problem."
Damn, she was smart sometimes. Carole sat down next to me, her shoulder almost touching mine. Dinner sat half prepared on the counter, but neither one of us stood to fix the rest of it. Even though she was right there, I still couldn't quite form a connection to her, not like I had had with my own mother. Finn was what connected us, and without his influence, the cord was frayed and strained. We were together, yes, but rather then feeling closer to her since Finn had returned, I was actually feeling even more pushed away.
Well, what did you expect? Finn coming back doesn't solve any of your problems, other then the fear of wondering where he is. You still have a major and inappropriate crush on him, your father is still dating his mother and forgetting yours, you're still sharing your room with someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'hamper', and Puck is still dead. This isn't TV, and it's not going to suddenly get better. It'll be work on every one's part. If you can do that, great, because I don't think he's going to make it without you. If you can't, well…
I got it, but I was only 17 years old. How could I possibly assume responsibility for another person? Then again, how could I not? What could I possibly have to do that would be more important then Finn's mental health?
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the need to see Finn for a minute, just to reassure myself that he was still really here. "I need to go downstairs and get changed for dinner."
It was a thin excuse, even to my own ears, but she let me go. I kept my footsteps as light as possible, so I wouldn't disturb Finn if he was still asleep. All I needed to do was take a quick look, then I would leave him alone.
As it turned out, Finn wasn't asleep at all. He was awake, and watching me in the dark room. I forced a smile. "Hello, Finn Hudson."
He didn't smile back. His stare wasn't accusing, but it wasn't terribly friendly either. It was almost…appraising. Like he was reevaluating my place in his life. Normally that would have been a good thing (and possibly a very good thing), but there was a dark look in his eyes that worried me. "Your mother is making pot roast for us; it should be done in a half hour or so. Do you need to take a shower before we eat?"
I knew that he had taken one this morning, but I was starting to get a bit creeped out by the way he was looking at me without any hint of what he was thinking. His head shook once, and his eyes never left mine. "Do you want something else?" I tried to keep my voice encouraging and not frustrated, despite my actual feelings. Finn was freaked out enough, and speaking harshly might put him over the edge.
From the way his eyes softened, I knew that there was something, but he wouldn't even try to tell me what. He just sat up and stared at me, as if he thought I could read his mind. So I went in different direction. "I'm sorry about today."
Me, too. The gesture, our first one, was as clear as it had been a few weeks ago.
"You don't have to be. I should have just gone by myself and let you stay home. It would have been better." I sat down on the edge of the bed, and was secretly pleased when he didn't push me away.
His head shook rapidly. One hand came up and he pointed at me, then himself, then pressed his hands together. Apparently he was taking the whole 'sticking together' thing to heart. "You're a good brother."
That earned me a slight narrowing of his eyes, though he didn't actually do anything. What did that mean? He hadn't wanted to move in with Dad and I in the first place; maybe he was still uncomfortable with the idea of being brothers?
You are so incredibly dense sometimes.
What was that supposed to mean? While I was still thinking about it, Finn jumped up and went into the bathroom, making sure that the door was closed no more then the requisite amount. I stared at the back of the door, noticing the scuff mark from where Finn had kicked over a chair so many months ago. I had intended to paint over it, but, in the end, I hadn't had the heart. It was a small proof that Finn had actually been there. Now that he was back, though, there was no reason not to fix it. If I could make the door clean and white and perfect again, maybe I could do the same for Finn.
You can't. You can't make time move backwards, and you can't make Finn be the person he was before. All you can do is make him be the best person he's capable of being, right now. He's looking to you as it is, just be there for him, no matter what he needs from you.
I wondered what that voice knew that I didn't. Logically, the answer was nothing, because it was all in my head. But it seemed to consistently come up with things that I had missed, like insisting that Finn was alive when I was sure he was dead, or letting my know just how creepy my fixation on him had been. Somehow, things that should have stayed in my subconscious were being brought up, and I wasn't sure that it was entirely a bad thing.
Maybe, between that voice and I, we still had a chance of helping Finn.