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“I don’t think I’ve ever done this before, you know.”
“Done what? Riding in a car?”
“What —?”
“Worry not. I, as your skilled and bestest friend with no competition between two others, will keep you safe.”
Albert smacked Finch’s arm, both of them laughing. “While I appreciate the sentiment, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about stargazing.”
“Oh?” Finch prompted from the driver’s seat, his gaze never straying from the road ahead. “Not even on some random sleepless night where you stare out your window for an hour plus and wait impatiently for your thoughts to stop thinking?”
“That’s weirdly specific… and not even something you do,” Albert said with a sideways glance to his friend. “But yeah. It’s like the kind of thing you’d only see in movies or TV shows, and I’ve definitely never seen anyone do it for college work.”
Albert and Finch were currently sophomores in college, and one of Finch’s chosen science courses for this fall was astronomy. Being roommates, Albert had heard plenty of Finch’s complaints about the class, as well as his admiration of the virtual, night sky viewing program thing he’d been required to install on his laptop.
Finch did actually enjoy the idea, or at least the ‘aesthetic’, of astronomy. His childhood bedroom had that exact theme; it was decorated with hi-res deep space images, stylized star charts, detailed galaxy maps, stuff like that. He also loved using the night sky program for recreational purposes. On the other hand, learning about how all of it worked and those too frequent times when math got involved, Finch would make it very clear to Albert that he would prefer to do literally anything else.
Albert was used to it. They’d been put together as roommates in freshman year, and while they’d started off on rocky territory — first time living away from parents and surrounded by strangers — they found their footing after two-ish weeks. In those early days, Albert and Finch met and bonded with their dorm neighbors, Race and JoJo, and the four became close friends. Something about being roommates granted Albert in particular the insight to Finch’s astronomy-related stresses, and apparently, to helping him with assignments.
That’s what they were in the car for, driving just over an hour away out of New York City to properly see the stars in the sky.
It felt excessive to Albert, and Finch wholeheartedly agreed. Unfortunately, the professor wanted their students to ‘get some fresh air’, and the assignment due date was even extended an extra week so everyone could make time for it. Finch had mentioned how excited his classmates were to do it, or rather, how excited they were to leave campus and maybe partake in more than school work while away. He didn’t want to be the only one not doing it as ‘heavily encouraged’, and decided to drag Albert along on the trip for company.
“I’m still excited, even though I might have to do some math tonight,” Finch said now, dejected at the thought of solving complicated equations under a clear, star-filled sky for once.
“Don’t get me wrong — I’m not annoyed by the reason for our adventuring,” Albert clarified. “I just realized that we might be the first people going stargazing for academic reasons as opposed to love confessions or romantic dates.”
Finch let out a short laugh at the absurdity of it. “I think we might be the first people to be going for only academic reasons, if you get my meaning.”
“Are you implying that your fellow classmates may not be as straight-laced as they appear, Finch Cortez?”
“Maybe I am implying that, Albert DaSilva, and maybe I’ve seen a number of Instagram stories in the past week suggesting as such.”
“In that case, we have to set an example.”
Finch raised his eyebrows, still focusing on the emptier street they’ve gotten on. “You’re not even in the class.”
Albert pointed at him knowingly, grinning. “Exactly! Once they see that someone not even enrolled in the course follows the directions, it’ll inspire them to do the same.” He nodded and readjusted his baseball cap with an air of confidence.
“That’s —” Finch tried to argue, or possibly even agree, Albert couldn’t tell, but he just gave up with a hearty laugh. “Let’s see what happens tonight.”
There might’ve been something more in the sarcastic way that was said, the words harboring some unspoken but implied meaning, but Albert had a feeling he was reading into it too much. Dealing with stress by association was making him question everything Finch said, and he hated it.
Finch was the real stressed one, even though he tried to ignore it. He’d picked out the town they would stargaze from: a small, wealthy community surrounded by forests. When Albert casually asked why that place, Finch had said some relatives lived there. Connecting the dots brought Albert to the realization that these relatives were on the rich side of the Cortez family that his friend didn’t like to talk about. In a purposely vague way, Finch decided that they would drive out and back all in one night. Albert could deduce this wouldn’t be a family reunion, although the lateness of the night suggested they wouldn’t see any of them anyway.
Letting his suspicions go, Albert scooped up his phone to hand pick the next song from their shared ‘ROADTRIPPPP’ playlist (they were quite proud of picking such a creative name). They were back to jamming out and singing as the road stretched out ahead of them.
With impeccable timing at the end of a song, the headlights illuminated the town sign as they passed it. Finch took a deep breath as he continued driving, and a flash of worry passed over Albert. He paused the music before another song played, and started talking before Finch could question it.
“Where exactly are we going? The sky is much more visible here, I’ll give you that, and the public buildings are tiny, but I doubt your plan was to climb onto a rooftop.” He grinned when Finch laughed.
“And you’re right,” Finch confirmed. “No roofs, unless it rains, which it wasn’t calling for. We’ll be out in a secluded field I know about.”
Albert’s eyebrows rose. “Secluded? You trying to get me alone so you can finally murder me for snoring?” He gasped dramatically. “Is that why you asked me out here? Not for some dumb astronomy assignment, but so you can get rid of me forever? I thought we were friends, Fi.”
Finch laughed even harder, saying, “Ah, yes. My plans have been foiled,” in that special kind of acting voice of his. He proceeded to improv what said plans were and bemoaned all of his so-called setup being ruined.
Thankfully, Albert couldn’t identify any stress underlying it even as they drove through one of the town’s main streets. They eventually turned into residential roads, which wasn’t clear to tell right away. Albert thought they’d ridden back into the trees, and then he saw the first house.
“Goddamn, that’s a whole mansion!” He exclaimed, tracking the grandiose building even after they passed it. “Are they all like that?”
“Basically,” Finch replied simply.
Albert felt that worry pressing on his shoulders again, and he could only imagine how driving through here must feel like for Finch. Reeling in his excitement, he carefully asked, “Did you, um, grow up in this town?”
Finch nodded mutely after a moment, his lips twisting wryly. “All eighteen years. A long time to be struck here with that competitive heir bullshit.”
The competitive heir topic had come up in passing before, though Finch seldom gave details about it. Albert quickly compiled what he knew: Finch had a twin brother, Dominic, and both of them were liable to claim inheritance from their wealthy moms at some undisclosed time. Being twins complicated things, and Dominic, proclaimed asshole, had always tried his damnedest to be better than Finch in every way.
Albert started to nod, sympathetic, before freezing. “Wait. If you had to deal with that here, does that mean your immediate family lives here?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, man. I thought you meant, like, cousins or grandparents — not your asshole of a brother and parents.”
“We aren’t going to see him so it’s fine,” Finch said dismissively (Albert didn’t miss the clarification of ‘him’ rather than ‘them’), then continued. “To answer your question from earlier about where we’re going, there’s a playground with pavilions and a parking lot, both of which are close to the field. It’ll be a seven minute walk, if we keep pace and stay on the path that should still be there.”
“Sounds good to me.” Albert knew better than to push his luck, though he wouldn’t stop thinking about it as easily.
They were back in Finch’s hometown, where his family still lived, just to go stargazing for a college assignment. Albert wondered why Finch even chose this place. Familiarity was the only reason he could think of. To be fair, Finch often spoke fondly of his childhood, except for any part regarding his brother, which he always deflected. Unsure, Albert forced it to the back of his mind. If Finch wanted to tell him more, then he would do it on his own time.
A few minutes later (in an awkward silence because Albert felt weird about restarting the music), the car pulled into an empty parking lot. They’d left campus after having a late dinner with Race and JoJo, and it was already dark outside an hour before then, so now it seemed really dark.
After parking, Finch didn’t move to get out right away.
Albert noticed. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Fi? We can just keep driving until we’re out of town, stop roadside in the middle of nowhere, and sit on the car roof to stargaze instead. We have no obligation to stay here, especially if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not —” Finch tried to protest, but stopped when he realized it to be futile. “It’s fine, really, Al. Only my brother is the problem, and he won’t be around, not this late and definitely not at this park.” He turned to look at Albert with a small smile. “I’m totally good otherwise. I really like this field we’re going to.”
“Whatever you say.” Albert said. He laid a hand on Finch’s arm. “Just know I’m down to leave if you really want to. Say the word, and I will break the laws of physics or whatever to get us out of this place in thirty seconds tops.”
“That’s a little extreme.”
“I’d do it, though. I’m talented like that.”
“And this is why I’m scared to ride as a passenger with you.”
“And you still promised to let me drive back to campus, so I’m holding you to that.”
Finch shook his head in disbelief of his own decisions as he unbuckled his seatbelt. They got out of the car, stretched and complained about aching bones at the ripe age of nineteen, and grabbed their supplies.
Albert hoisted a small lunch bag with snacks and their metal water bottles clinking with ice cubes, passing Finch’s over, and took the navy blue, weather-durable blanket from the trunk. Finch slung his backpack over his shoulders, which contained astronomy books (yes, plural, because there’s a workbook and a textbook for the course), his laptop, a portable charger, and some other basic school supplies. With everything collected, the car was locked and the keys were passed regrettably to Albert.
Off they went, phone flashlights chasing away the dark where street lamps didn’t.
The playground was easy to see, and Finch commented that it looked no different, going on to share the tale of Hell Slide. Apparently, it was the only metal slide in the area, and a bunch of bratty rich kids used to bet each other to ride down it, not knowing any better. They would be surprised when the heated metal hurt, and whine to their rich parents. Naturally, all it took was a little money to convince the government officials to have it removed. The memory of Hell Slide was preserved in one of the surrounding park benches, though, which the two friends located and took a selfie with.
Past the playground were covered pavilions filled with long bench tables. Finch pointed out broken ones and random chips in the wood, each having their own story. He even indicated the bench where he had more friends sitting with him than his twin did during one of their earlier birthday parties. They lingered there briefly, Finch caught up in his thoughts. With a gentle nudge, Albert brought his friend back and they left the pavilions.
As they started following a timeworn path, Albert struck up more conversation.
“Did you walk to this field pretty often? You mentioned you liked it, so I’m assuming there’s some history.” He kicked a rock, listened to the soft rustle of it landing in the nearby grass.
“Yeah. I liked to come here with a couple of the neighbors’ kids,” Finch said, also kicking a rock in front of him. “I met them because we’re neighbors, obviously, and because of family events I had to attend. They were the only friendly kids I could find, while the snobbish ones and my brother got along swimmingly.”
“But isn't it just a field? What’d you even do there?” Albert asked, genuinely curious.
“Plenty of things. Kids make stuff up and make it work,” Finch replied like that explained everything.
“Like what, though?”
Finch gave Albert a strange look. “Don’t you have like six siblings? How do you not know the creative and occasionally insane ways kids spend their time outside?”
Albert shrugged, kicking another rock with a little more force than required. It flew off to his left, landing much farther into the grass. “Doesn’t mean they liked me enough to ask if I wanted to play with them,” he mumbled.
“Oh.” Finch breathed out. He rushed to apologize. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed —”
“Don’t, you’re fine,” Albert interrupted. Copying Finch’s move from before they’d left the car, Albert gave him a small smile. “Just tell me about it.”
For the next seven minutes, that was exactly what he did. Finch talked about the intense hide and seek games they used to play, a repeated test of their creativity to find new spots amongst the trees. There were races in which they would run until their lungs burned. There were scavenger hunts for the best leaves or rocks or flowers, and subsequent arguments about the ‘best’ of them. They liked to whistle with the birds, even talk to them occasionally. (“Is that where the nickname came from?!” “Perhaps…”) And of course, kids played make believe — a true classic. (“Is that how you learned to act?” “That’s also a maybe.”)
Again with perfect timing, Finch wrapped up a story about a rather passionate make believe session of supernatural creatures and monster hunters just as the path ended. It opened up to the renowned field of Finch’s childhood and they stopped at the edge of it.
Finch sighed happily, his eyes raking across the moderately sized, flat expanse ahead. “Ten years later and it hasn’t even changed.”
“Kind of freaky if you think about it.” Albert shifted his weight, squinting distrustfully into the field.
Surprisingly, he could see just fine. The night sky was entirely devoid of clouds and the moon seemed to be shining brighter over this particular location. A pale glow bathed everything here, and while the light was welcomed, Albert could only deem it strange.
“It’s just in an eternal state of being, that’s all,” Finch said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Have I told you how weird you are? Because that’s weird.”
“Shut up. Just let me reminisce in peace.”
“Sure, and when you’re done, you can think about how we came here because you had college work to do.” Albert shoved at Finch’s backpack while the latter groaned at the reminder.
Albert walked to the center of the circular field, leaving Finch to bask in the nostalgia at the threshold. He spread out the blanket, the shield between scratchy grass and their bodies. Sitting cross-legged, he placed his phone and the lunch bag down beside him. He was drinking some of his frigid water when Finch joined him a few minutes later.
“I don’t want to do my work,” Finch grumbled, a perfect imitation of a stubborn child.
“Now,” Albert tilted the metal bottle towards his friend, “if I knew you were going to act like this, I would’ve brought JoJo with us.”
“Too bad,” Finch mocked, a defiant edge in the set of his jaw. He dropped his backpack unceremoniously onto the blanket and crossed his arms. “You have to make me do it.”
Hold on a second — Albert could’ve sworn there was definitely something in the way that was said. After review, he realized it was the ‘make me’ part of the sentence that threw him off. People tended to say that when sexual tension was present, and saying that would ramp it even higher. But that clearly wasn’t the case here. Finch was making a joke out of being stubborn, looking for a fun way to annoy Albert.
That’s it. That’s what was going on, nothing else.
Then why did it catch you so off guard? Albert’s mind supplied, unwilling to let it go so quickly. Except, he didn’t have an answer right now and his friend was waiting for him to do something.
“I will.”
Albert switched his focus to the backpack, suddenly not wanting to look at his friend (now he’s the one being weird, great). He unzipped it and started pulling out Finch’s stuff, neatly laying it all out.
“Here. I got your books, your favorite purple pencil, and your laptop. It’s all set up so you can work now.” He motioned to each one as he listed them, then managed to look up to where Finch was still standing.
“I don’t want to,” Finch repeated in a near whine, the imitation on point. He turned his head up to the sky. “Can’t we just stargaze instead?”
“Afterwards, yes, but right now you have work to do. The longer it takes, the later we’ll get back to campus, and the less sleep we’ll get.”
“You said you could drive out of here super fast.”
“That’s still true, screw physics or whatever the hell, but —”
“You’re also awfully concerned about leaving so soon, Al. Don’t you want to spend time with me under a clear sky and pretty stars for a while?”
Can someone explain why that made Albert pause? Was his questioning even stress-by-proxy anymore, or something else entirely? Upon another review, it was probably the ‘spending time with him’ part. People just said that commonly, though. So Finch said that as a friend, asking why his friend supposedly wanted to ditch him.
Right, that’s what it was.
Caught off guard again by something so easily explained. Does that seem right? His mind whispered, and it started to sound like it was working against him here. But he didn’t have time for that.
“Of course I want to spend time with you, Fi. You’re my friend and you brought me all the way out here just for some stupid assignment. I don't want the trip to be wasted.”
Woah, okay, what was that. The tone there was much more serious than the joking one Finch was using. Albert recognized that and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.
Luckily, Finch didn’t seem to notice. “But what’s stopping us from just gazing wistfully for an hour and then leaving? I really don’t think —”
Impulsively, Albert reached up and grabbed Finch’s wrist, then promptly yanked his friend down to the ground to sit. Finch yelped, an undignified noise, as he collapsed in on himself.
“Work.” Albert firmly instructed before downing more icy water to clear his head.
Finch just blinked at him, then chuckled. “Not what I was expecting, but good job.”
Albert could only nod as Finch opened his books and turned on the laptop. He felt like he needed to pace. Like he needed to ask someone about why he was being weird all of a sudden. But the only person around was the person that made him act weird in the first place, so that was off the table. Texting his other friends probably wouldn’t be good either, because Finch would ask what he’s doing typing frantically on his phone and no one wants to explain that.
Perhaps he just ignored it. Perhaps he could just try and help Finch with his astronomy homework — you know, some of the reason why he was here at all. Albert didn’t know a single thing about astronomy, but he could be there when Finch needed to talk out his reasoning, something he’d done in the past.
Simple enough, just got to stick to it.
Only fifteen minutes in, Finch pointedly dropped his astronomy book onto the blanket and leaned back on his hands. His head was turned away from his work, straying to the surrounding trees.
“What are you doing, man?” Albert managed to ask. Let it be known that it was not a struggle to speak when Albert got momentarily distracted by the sight. Why would you think that?
“Fucking goddamn math.” Finch seethed, now glaring daggers into the pages. Albert guessed that his friend probably wished he had actual daggers right about now, if only to tear the workbook into fine shreds and scatter it to the wind where it could never bother him again.
“Just text Race for help, he’ll figure it out somehow,” Albert suggested. Him, Finch, and JoJo all tended to contact Race when it came to math; the guy was a genius in that field.
A message was sent, and a complicated answer was received three minutes later. It wasn’t understood by both the non-astronomy student and the astronomy student. Still, the answer was copied down and Finch continued working. There were no further delays for another forty-five minutes.
He had to talk through pretty much every question, and while Albert could only provide his vague opinion, Finch took it as best he could. The real night sky was the focal point of the assignment; he was supposed to chart some of the constellations that he could pinpoint, using the viewing program on his laptop for reference.
“And…” Finch drew out the word for as long as it took for the screen to load. It took a while due to the lower reception in the field. “It’s submitted!”
“You don’t have to do anything else?” Albert checked from where he was laying down on the blanket. His eyes were shut, blocking out the moon’s soft light.
His back had started to hurt from sitting up twenty-five minutes ago, so he’d fallen back, which was apparently risking the potential of falling asleep. You couldn’t even blame him: the field was essentially a white noise machine of nighttime ambiance. Albert found it odd that nature sounds worked just as good as city sounds, but he chalked it up to the general peacefulness of the area and the company he had (which happened to be the same person for both places).
“Yep, I’m done for the night.”
“That’s good.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence, but Albert soon heard shuffling nearby. Finch was most likely just packing up his backpack, and yeah, that zipper confirmed it. And wait, another zipper, maybe the lunch bag? That was on Albert’s left side, so Finch would be reaching over him to get it.
…Was Finch above him right now?
Why does that matter so much? Albert’s mind prodded — definitely not helping. He ignored it and did not open his eyes to see because it didn’t matter.
The shuffling paused for a moment, which became several moments, then it had been long enough for Albert to lose track of what Finch was even doing or where he was currently. Out of nowhere, Albert heard:
“You look really handsome in the moonlight.”
Finch spoke from directly above him.
Albert cracked open his green eyes, zeroing in on his friend’s dark brown ones. Finch had been sitting on his knees before, and now he’d rolled onto his hip to lean over Albert. Quite literally poised over him, Finch was using one hand to support his weight on Albert’s left side, also positioned close to the opened lunch bag.
“…What?” Albert’s voice was barely audible, but he couldn’t help it.
The weird moon was acting as a perfect backlight and casting practically artistic shadows over Finch's body. Every edge of him was glowing, from his brown, tight curls to his shoulders to the sharp plane of his jaw where his head was turned. More subtle details still shone through, such as the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and on the upper curves of his cheeks. They were akin to the stars and just as, if not more, worthy of being gazed at.
Poetic words — ethereal, entrancing, divine — presented themselves to describe this special view, and Albert could only conclude one thing:
Finch also looked really handsome in this light.
And he gave Albert a warm smile then, and just wow…
Wait —
“Aw, why thank you,” Finch replied, as if he’d been told something, and oh god.
Did Albert just call his friend handsome? Out loud? And mean it?
“I must say, though, you look absolutely dashing under the stars.” Finch added in a perfect British accent, and he finally rocked back, a snack in hand. The starry sky was visible again to Albert, and he felt somewhat disappointed by the change.
Hang on. Processing was required. What was with the compliments and the accent? Why —?
Then it hit him.
Finch was joking. Not that he was necessarily lying, nor was he trying to be mean or underhanded. It was just said in a comedic way. Like fake flirting. The kind you did with friends because it was funny. The kind that harbored no real emotions behind them other than humor and nice compliments.
But Albert was experiencing those very real emotions.
Another realization slammed into him.
I have a crush on Finch.
Unused to this freshly developed feeling (it is new, right?) Albert sat up abruptly, causing his head to spin.
“Woah, you good, Al?” Finch’s concerned voice sounded a little echoey but that’s not right. They’re outside in an open field, nothing should be echoing.
Albert shut his eyes and took several, stabilizing deep breaths. He needed to calm down and attempt to somewhat come to terms with what he just realized, as difficult as that appeared to be. Once everything felt almost normal again, he opened his eyes to the abnormally luminous expanse of grass around them.
“You okay? You just shot up and wouldn’t say anything for a minute,” Finch spoke again, distinctly echoless. He held up Albert’s water bottle, an offer accepted without a word.
His mouth felt uncomfortably desert-like, but the water helped. Albert was aware enough to know he shouldn’t drink too fast — choking would be the sour cherry on top. He cleared his throat before answering.
“I’m alright, Fi. I just, uh, realized something that’s like, half amazing and half terrifying.” Albert wasn’t sure why he explained it like that.
Finch’s brows furrowed, his head tilting in that endearing birdlike way of his. “Oh, okay. Sounds… confusing, but as long as you’re good, I’m happy.”
Albert made an agreeable sound. “Did you still want to stargaze for a while? For recreational reasons?” He smiled, counting on a yes.
“You know how I love recreational stargazing.” Finch smiled back, and damn, was it definitely doing things to Albert now.
He wasn’t complaining.
“Tell me about the constellations. Which ones can we see?”
“We can see a bunch of them actually, but not all of them at once because of the horizon line of the Earth. It blocks our full view of the celestial sphere, as it’s called…”
Finch continued sharing what he learned from astronomy and what he knew from his own research, which was significantly less information. Albert sat beside his friend, simply listening, but if he did happen to gaze at the ‘stars’ at his level from time to time, that was for him to know.
They completely lost track of time.
At some point, when Finch was in the middle of attempting to explain the story of Orion, their cell phones dinged at the same time. How they’d hadn’t gotten any notifications up to this point was honestly astonishing, but the streak had been inevitably broken. Retrieving their phones, Albert opened and read their identical group chat message, while Finch exclaimed about the time.
“How is it midnight already? No way we were talking for that long…”
“And Jo and Racer are asking where we are, so I’ll let them know we’re leaving now.”
The pair packed everything up and bid farewell to the accommodating field of Finch’s youth. In passing the threshold yet again, Albert officially confirmed that it was, in fact, brighter out in the secluded field. The light had noticeably dimmed in the area beyond its limits. The verification led him to believe that it may have been haunted, magical, and/or contained some otherworldly presence.
He was reminded of those descriptive, poetic words for Finch, and unashamedly determined that someone ‘otherworldly’ had certainly visited tonight.
Like before, the trek back to the car was guided by phone flashlights. They deposited their belongings into the back seat carelessly, then climbed in. Albert was in the driver’s seat as originally planned and Finch was in the passenger’s seat, looking more tired than Albert would have expected. Comparable to their shared stress from hours ago, Albert felt the sleepiness rubbing off on him, but he fought against it. He had driving to do, after all.
Finch said he wanted to nap on the way back to campus, but Albert could play music still, just at a lower volume. That arrangement held true, and Albert sang quietly to himself while Finch slept as comfortably as one could in a car.
Albert also had the opportunity to think. When Finch had said that they’d ‘see what happens’ this evening, it was clear that he was referencing not wanting to do work at all and instead just stargaze for fun. Technically, both had happened, the former being far more brief than the latter.
Now, Albert realizing he had a crush on one of his best friends was not on his own list of things to be expected tonight. Again, he wasn’t exactly complaining about it either.
Just over an hour later, they made it to campus. The walk to their dorm building felt much slower than the one from the field to the car, both of them now properly dragging their feet. The elevator dropped them off on the third floor, and they were met with two far-too-awake dorm neighbors waiting for them with an open doorway.
“What the hell took you guys so long to get back?” was JoJo’s greeting.
“How was the date?” was Race’s.
Each of the exhausted friends took on one more-cognizant friend to respond to. Finch merely said “stargazing” to JoJo, who was looking for further explanation but got none. Albert, on the other hand, took off his baseball cap and promptly clapped it against Race’s head, who’d preemptively braced for the attack. He wasn’t in the mood for his friend’s jokes right now, even though it did put the question in his mind of if that qualified as an unofficial date.
Regardless, wishes of good nights were passed around and they split off for their respective rooms. Albert and Finch got ready for bed and pretty much collapsed onto their mattresses.
They browsed their phones briefly. Albert got a notification for being tagged in an Instagram post that Finch had just made. It contained their selfie with the Hell Slide memorial bench, and another of the perfectly moonlit field, a wide shot with Albert setting up the blanket for them in the center, unaware of being photographed. The caption was in theme with the rest of Finch’s account. Albert was the first like on the post, and he also left a funny comment that received a soft chuckle from the bed across the room.
Just before sleep overtook the pair, Albert led a short exchange.
“Stargazing was a good idea.”
“I had a feeling it would be.”
“…Good night, Fi.”
“Good night, Al.”