A/N: The idea of bipolar Finch came from somewhere on Tumblr and it just now started taking over my brain, so this happened.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Newsies
Patrick "Finch" Cortes was fine. That's what he told himself, at least. He felt fine. He didn't feel much different than yesterday, at least he was pretty sure. He knew he could never really tell, though, despite how he felt. It was fun, not even being entirely sure whether you were stable or about to walk right off another damn cliff. The fact that he realized that probably meant that he was fine. Probably.
"Did ya sleep last night?" Jojo asked. It was Saturday. A glorious Saturday with no school. Sure, they had dance team tonight, but that wasn't until later. It was probably close to ten by now. That was way better than seven.
"Yup," Finch replied, stretching and sitting up. Jojo was on his bed facing him. He was still in sweatpants with his comforter wrapped around his shoulders, which meant he didn't go any farther than the kitchen yet today. His reading glasses (Jojo would deny their existence if any mentioned them) were slipping down his nose. He had to have been up for a while now, judging by the books on the floor around his bed. The only time his half of their room was messy was when he was reading.
"How ya feelin'?"
"Like I'm still comin' down from a high," Finch admitted, giving Jojo a lopsided smile. "You interrogatin' me?"
"Just makin' sure you won't do anything stupid," Jojo said. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes that prevented his usual sunshine. Like he didn't really sleep in the past few days. Finch knew he could be awful when he was hypomanic and Jojo spent most of his time running after him.
"I'm sorry I was an ass," Finch said, getting up and dropping onto Jojo's bed. His older brother looked down at him, half amused and half exasperated. "If I had any control I, ya know, wouldn't be." On impulse, Finch reached up and pushed Jojo's glasses further up his nose, smiling when his best friend laughed. It was one of the purest laughs in the world. The kind that gave angels their wings.
"It's okay," Jojo promised, even though Finch could never feel the same way. Nothing about it was okay in any way. Not his lack of control or the guilt that followed or the fact that Jojo had to babysit him. "It's over for now and I've got plain ole Finch Cortes back."
"You callin' me borin'?" Finch cried in mock offense. "Them's fightin' words. Come 'ere!" Jojo laughed again as Finch pulled him into a headlock, pinning him and tickling him without mercy. Jojo's laugh was the best sound ever, especially after a crazy week that they would both probably feel a whole lot more later.
"You're an idiot," Jojo declared once Finch stopped his assault, still breathless. He was curled up against Finch's side, head on his shoulder and eyelids drooping. Did the poor kid sleep at all last night? Or the past week in general?
"Yeah, but you're stuck wit me," Finch agreed, pulling him closer. "I got lucky havin' such a damn good older brother.
"Couldn't've asked for a better baby brother," Jojo said, pressing even closer. Less than a minute later, Jojo was asleep, Finch content to just sit there and be a human pillow. His mind was as calm as it could be, calmer than it's been in a while, for a fifteen-year-old with ADHD coming down from a bipolar-induced hypomanic episode. Sure, Finch had problems, but he would always be fine as long as he had Jojo watching his back.