memory’s so treacherous
She’s chipper enough to bring tears to his eyes, Finn unsure what to do with her cheer and her optimism, her acting like everything is alright. Because gods, he wants to believe it so badly. He wants to roll over and into her arms and sob out every drop of venom that’s infected his dreams and his mind. He wants to empty himself of it all, so maybe - maybe - he can soak up just a bit of her sunshine.
”Gods, please no,” he says of the massage, having the grace to sound dryly repulsed by the idea, though really, it does make him feel a bit sick. As for getting up? He’s still trembling even under the blankets, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering, and his attempts to get his elbows under him are foiled by the weakness in his muscles. ”I can’t,” he says apologetically, though water sounds wonderful in that moment.
”Gods, please no,” he says of the massage, having the grace to sound dryly repulsed by the idea, though really, it does make him feel a bit sick. As for getting up? He’s still trembling even under the blankets, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering, and his attempts to get his elbows under him are foiled by the weakness in his muscles. ”I can’t,” he says apologetically, though water sounds wonderful in that moment.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
