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Finn.
Finney blake.
Where could I ever begin with him?
Finney Blake, my ex-best friend. The kidnapping survivor who walks these halls like a fucking martyr, a savior, rivaling jesus christ himself. Golden, holy, bathed in light. If I had ever kissed him, he’d taste of frankincense and wine. I bet his lips would be softer than mine too. They’d be perfect as he is. Never cut and callused by years of fighting, years of subconscious chewing.
Chewing on my lips was a bad habit I picked up after Finney left, actually. I imagine all my imperfections only resurfaced after I was dragged away from his golden, all-healing purity.
His absence was entirely my own doing. Sometime around two years ago, I think in July maybe August, id figured out exactly what it was I felt for Finn.
Sleepover. Movie night. Horror flick. Only one hour into our marathon and Finn was already asleep on my shoulder, brown-blonde curly hair tickling my neck. Lord, how he killed me.
Despite my better judgment, I swung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him as close to me as I could. Despite my pessimistic expectations, he leaned in and laid his head to my chest. It was only then, as I nearly pressed a kiss to his temple, that I realized what that burning weight in my chest was. What it had always been. What it always would be.
Horrified with myself, I jump back. Finney hits the floor, hard. I apologize, he sleeps on my bed, I stay up staring at the wall, praying for the aching in my chest to go away.
Of course I tried to pray it away. Of course I hated myself. I was raised catholic.
‘No kissing boys Robbie! You’ll burn in hell!’. I am Jack's religious guilt.
The feeling lingered with me like a fucking parasite. Like an infected wound. It blistered, swelled, bled. It was the kind of lust that urges you to take a loaded forty-five to the mouth just to make it stop. I couldn't be around him anymore, I found. It hurt too much.
So, I left. I found new friends, new hobbies, I even took different electives just to avoid him. Of course, I never actually told him it was over, so he clung on longer than ever imagined he would.
I soon discovered there is no god. No one with the ability to stop me from hurting him as long as I did would’ve stayed quiet.
We argued a few times before he left, especially near the end.
“Fucking Vance Hopper!?” he yelled at me one night. My Finn never yelled.
“How can you even stand to speak to him after all he's done?” It was the first time he ever got so openly angry with me. I almost cried.
If you don't want to be around him, don't hang out with us. I spat.
Fighting was the only way I knew to express my emotions, I think that fact is clear. If Finn walks the halls like a god, I walk them like some deranged eldritch horror. The stares I receive are nothing new. Yes, these are marks from fighting. Yes, I'm comfortable with that. I am enlightened.
In the end, it was Donna that took him from me. One kiss from her and he never spoke to me again. Suppose it was fair, I let most of his calls ring out anyway.
As much as I want to believe them going steady was a completely non-orchestrated, non-plotted chain of events with no real intention to hurt me, I wholeheartedly believe Donna did it intentionally. She’d always look at me funny if I was hanging out with Finn when she wanted to talk to him, glare at me across classrooms when she could.
This theory was only reinforced when she and her clique stole my lunch spot, too. A nice little table in the corner of the library Vance and I normally sat at. It only had two chairs, they’d pulled up extra.
“If you don’t like us, don't hang out here,” she spat, my own words coming from her mouth.
First, she took my Finney, then my table. What's next? My appendix possibly?
I could see Finney sitting at the seat behind her from where I was standing. Close to the wall. He looked absolutely dejected. I could feel the aching again. I turned on my heel and left.
Me and Vance skipped the next period and snuck over to the arcade. That distraction hardly cured the burning gash in my chest.
I feel that burning again now. However, that might just be the punch that Vance helped me spike. Half-empty and loosely grasped in my hand. Just like me, just like Finn.
I lay back against the wall of the gymnasium, trying to seem comfortable in this stiff-ass dress shirt. I look pathetic. Alone and tipsy, Love Of My Life by Queen blaring so loudly in my ear I can hardly think.
In the center of the dance floor, I could see Donna and Finn. Holding each other, gently swaying. I wanted to cry, to vomit. Shoot me and paint these poorly decorated walls with my brain matter. I sink to the floor and take another swing of my vodka-kool aid poison. I am a member of Heavens Gate prepped to meet the mothership.
Without much impulse control, I let myself look at him. Really look at him for the first time in ages. I recognize his soft brown eyes instantly.
He's looking at me too.
He's looking at me the same way Donna is looking at him.
He is looking at me the same way I'm looking at him. My stomach drops.
I am Jack's catastrophic misjudgment.
We are Jack's broken heart.