His Eugene.Tilly’s words rang through his body, and suddenly, he felt sick. Excusing himself, he quickly zipped up his coat, opened the door, and rushed out into the early afternoon light. It was snowing again, fluffy white flakes dancing all around him, an absurd carefree contrast to the immense sadness inhabiting his body. Leaning his back against the front of the diner, he breathed in gulps of serene air, filling his lungs, his heart pounding in his chest. As if each breath held some cleansing healing power. Rubbing at the front of his coat, loosening the suddenly much too constrictive scarf, he closed his eyes, tipping his head towards the weak winter sun.Shit. Fucking shit.
Chapter Nineteen
Hank
Now
Something had been up with Finn since they’d gotten back from the diner. Instead of coming back to the shop with him and Colton, he’d excused himself, saying he was tired, and gone back to the cabin. It was early evening now, and he hadn’t even come out for dinner. Usually, he’d hang around the kitchen while Hank was cooking, asking about his day, talking about yet another bird he’d encountered on a walk in the woods. It had become something Hank looked forward to, often catching himself glancing at the wall clock in the shop when the light grew dimmer outside and late afternoon bled into early evening. Some days it would feel like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a subtleunrest beneath his skin—the urge to get back home and listen to Finn’s voice as he recounted his day, hands gesturing wildly, golden hair flopping all over the place.
Often, the moments he’d shared with Eugene in that very same space would blend with Finn’s vivid depictions, his brown eyes gaining a yellowish hue from excitement, and Hank would have to excuse himself, making up some random reason for leaving the kitchen so abruptly. He already dreaded the end of winter, knowing it would be hard going back to being on his own again when Finn left. Since Eugene had died, he’d convinced himself that he was better off on his own, but being around Finn reminded him that man was not a solitary creature. It was not in his nature.
So, the fact Finn hadn’t joined him for dinner worried him. Hank had knocked on the door a few times, but since he’d gotten no reply, he assumed Finn was sleeping. Perhaps it’d been too much for him today. With helping at the clinic and then being dragged along to the diner, dealing with Tilly’s Nebraskan version of the Spanish Inquisition.
Hank couldn’t exactly say why it had surprised him so much to learn that Finn was a nurse. An ER nurse even. Perhaps because, up until now, he hadn’t really considered Finn as someone with a profession. It was stupid, really, but the way the younger man had just turned up one day out of the blue had given him this air of mystery. Like he had no past, almost. As if he existed in this time and place only. Yeah, it was stupid. He had a sister, obviously, and parents, so of course he had a past. A life and a profession.
When the front door suddenly sounded, he realized that he’d been sitting in the dark in the kitchen for some time now, his half-empty plate in front of him. He’d had no real appetite, suddenly used to eating with Finn, shooting the shit at the small kitchen table, Finn’s voice dipping into a soft chuckle whenHank said something funny. Mostly unintentionally, of course. Just random stuff.
As he got up, his knees protested over having to work again. He took a few steps towards the counter and watched Finn from the kitchen window. With an agitated air around him, he was pacing back and forth in the driveway like some restless wolf, staring at the dark sky at short intervals, running his hands through his unruly hair, tugging exasperatedly at the longish strands.
In the end, it became too much to witness, and Hank wondered if Finn was possessed or something. He pulled on his coat and went outside, observing Finn from the porch, quietly at first. When he didn’t seem to notice Hank, he cleared his throat.
“You’re gonna catch your death out here,” he hollered, rubbing his hands together, as the evening air had a bite to it.
“What?” Finn looked up, a spooked look in his eyes.
“What the heck are you doin’ out here anyway, pacing around like some crazed animal? It ain’t even a full moon yet. Two days left.”
“Aren’t I allowed to get some fresh air?” Finn’s eyes were nearly black, his face twisted in… anger? Yes, he looked angry. What the heck was he angry about? Hank did a quick rundown of the day, but didn’t recall having said or done anything to piss Finn off.
“Sure, you are,” he sighed. “But there’s a fine line between enjoying the outdoors and behaving like an idiot.” Why on earth he felt like arguing all of a sudden was a mystery to him, but Hank sensed frustration building over this stupid kid, who wasn’t really a kid, but clearly a man.Verymuch a man.
Finn came to a stop, mumbling something to himself, then shaking his head. Taking a few steps towards Hank, he lingered in the driveway, the moon lighting him up from behind, bathing him in a translucent glow. Tilting his head, he looked up atHank on the top step. There was a desperation in his eyes that immediately made Hank deflate, replacing the brewing annoyance with a softness.
“What’s wrong?” Hank offered.
Finn sighed, his exhale outdrawn, white air curling from his lips. Taking a few steps up the creaking wooden stairs, he came to a stop just below Hank.
“I feel like such an idiot,” he spat, avoiding eye contact, his hands buried in his pants pockets.
“Why?” His entire posture screamed guardedness. Something Hank hadn’t seen in Finn since the day when he’d threatened Hank with the bedside lamp. Since then, Finn had acted with an almost childlike openness around him, brown eyes filled with trust, sometimes giving him an appearance of being younger than he was.
“Because… Because here I am, staying inyourhouse, eatingyourfood, sleeping in that comfortable fucking bed. Andyou, Hank, you just…” His words came out in pants, puffs of white air shooting at Hank like small angry bullets before they dissolved into nothing. It was strange to observe how Finn’s voice went from an angry hiss at first to transform into a heartbreakingly quiet whisper.
“I what now?” Hank had no idea where this was heading, but he felt real regret pouring off the guy, and it didn’t take a genius to see that something was up.
“You cook for me and take care of me. You let me stay in your home, no questions asked. You’re this…” He paused, looking almost pained speaking the next part. “You’re the closest to a friend I’ve had in a long time. You’re kind and considerate and you just let me be… let me be how I want to be.” He shook his head again, a mumbled “fuck”slipping from his lips. The kid had a thing with cursing, that was for sure;fuck wasa frequent wordin his vocabulary. Good thing Hank didn’t care about things like that. Never had.
“And that ain’t a good thing?” Hank half-chuckled. “You want me to be more of an asshole? Is that it? You want me to treat you like you haven’t become a friend to me too? Because you have.” It wasn’t until he spoke the words that he realized they were true. Finn had become his friend. Rubbing absentmindedly at his chest, Hank’s voice softened. “Now, what’s goin’ on, Finn the Hun?” he teased carefully. He was met by a pair of wary eyes, a wet sheen to them, Finn’s bottom lip quivering.
“I saw his photos at the diner. Eugene’s,” he whispered, a small sound of regret clinging to that beloved name.Eugene.
“I see.” Hank nodded in understanding. It was bound to happen, eventually. It wasn’t exactly like there weren’t small traces of Eugene around town. If he recalled correctly, Henry also had a couple of Eugene’s photos displayed in his waiting room. “I assume Tilly filled you in on my tale of woe, then?”
“Hank…”
“What now? It’s true. I had a partner. Eugene. He was everything I ever wanted in life and then he died. I really don’t see what that has to do with you and me.”Goddamnit. You and me. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything, Hank!” Finn yelled, his hands flying from his pockets like some Wild Bill Hickok in a gunfight, gesturing madly at Hank. Before he could ask why, Finn took the last step to the porch and pushed past him. Storming into the cabin, he headed for the guest bedroom, Hank following him at a pace that made his knees scream,what the hell are you doin’, old man?.Reaching the bedroom, Finn grabbed his worn backpack from the corner next to the rocking chair. Frantically stuffing a few belongings into it, he checked the rest of the room, eyes bright with agitation behind the black frames.
