sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
Finn can't get enough breath, with this realisation pushing at the walls of his mind, and he finds himself laying down as well. Like the yang to Remi's ying, he smiles and frowns and his green-eyed reflection does the same. Tears well in Finn's eyes. His exhaustion oozes through his bones with every huff of air, and the floorboards grow darker and lighter in tandem. The guitar music wraps around the two of them; Finn hasn't noticed the way his fingers are trying to mimic the chords, or the way his hands move alter the tune.
Then a feather sits before him, and he hiccups in a full breath at last. "Yes," he whispers, reaching out to lift the feather to his eyeline, to let it run softly across his jaw. "Yes, I think you will." Its bittersweet, this realisation. Finn is both happy and sad to admit it. He will see Remi whenever he looks at his reflection too hard. He will see him in his dreams and in his memories. They will have more firsts, from one broken teacup to another.
Then a feather sits before him, and he hiccups in a full breath at last. "Yes," he whispers, reaching out to lift the feather to his eyeline, to let it run softly across his jaw. "Yes, I think you will." Its bittersweet, this realisation. Finn is both happy and sad to admit it. He will see Remi whenever he looks at his reflection too hard. He will see him in his dreams and in his memories. They will have more firsts, from one broken teacup to another.
FINN
