we don't even ask for happiness; just a little less pain
Her sunny smile is utterly out of place in the storm that rages in Finn's eyes, and whilst he tries to emulate it, he can barely manage a twitch of his lips behind his scarf. The receptionist is an annoying sort of hum behind him, and when she leaves he barely notices. Tea, Tobi asks, and a hushed laugh heaves from Finn's chest, something that's almost a sob. "Yes please," he mumbles. He doesn't want tea. But saying yes is polite.
"Tobi, I don't know what to do," he says a moment later, reaching up hands that are chapped with cold to try and loosen the scarf, feeling suddenly as though it is strangling him. Even his clothes feel like grasping hands, and he wants to climb out of his skin, to plunge his aching bones into the sea and never come back up for air.
But he doesn't. He asks for tea. He lingers in the doorway, unaware that his chest is heaving with breath he can't catch.
"Tobi, I don't know what to do," he says a moment later, reaching up hands that are chapped with cold to try and loosen the scarf, feeling suddenly as though it is strangling him. Even his clothes feel like grasping hands, and he wants to climb out of his skin, to plunge his aching bones into the sea and never come back up for air.
But he doesn't. He asks for tea. He lingers in the doorway, unaware that his chest is heaving with breath he can't catch.
FINN
