memory’s so treacherous
”I don’t know.” Her enthusiasm coaxes a boyish smile from the Spyglass, and it’s all the better because he’s being honest. He doesn’t know. ”In a worst case scenario, I imagine that they will in time. One of them...” He almost says it. One of them looks just like me. But he swallows it back, distracted in any case by the reminder to remove his shirt. Humming an acknowledgement and helping as best he can (though really, she does all the work and they both know it), Finn eases himself down onto the bed.
”Some medication, to sleep. More journaling and meditation. Breathing exercises.” He lists them all off like they’re old friends, and at times in his life, they have been. But they prove to be fair weather, when times get rough. The last treatment she mentions has his brow furrowing, and he shakes his head softly, letting her go about her inspection. Finn’s left side is a mottled mess of dark and yellowing bruises, tender and excruciating to the touch, though he manages to contain it well enough.
”Some medication, to sleep. More journaling and meditation. Breathing exercises.” He lists them all off like they’re old friends, and at times in his life, they have been. But they prove to be fair weather, when times get rough. The last treatment she mentions has his brow furrowing, and he shakes his head softly, letting her go about her inspection. Finn’s left side is a mottled mess of dark and yellowing bruises, tender and excruciating to the touch, though he manages to contain it well enough.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
