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He hadn’t expected, all those years ago when Gwen first brought home Ernesto, that he would one day find himself here, giving his sister away to a man whose face was a living echo of the ghost of someone he could never forget.
I guess fighting the actual ghost of the monster that took both their brothers really can build a solid foundation for love, he thought.
The evening air held the soft chill of early autumn, and the distant music from the wedding reception was muffled from this far. Finn stood by the lake’s edge, a solitary figure in a well-tailored suit, the moon painting a wavering silver path across the water.
The ceremony was beautiful, Gwen had been radiant, and Ernesto had cried through most of it, gazing at her as though he would hold up the sky if she asked.
They were happy.
Both families were happy.
Finn was happy for them.
Yet, as the reception laughter swelled, a quiet, familiar hollowness expanded within his chest. He offered his excuses and slipped away, drawn to the stillness and darkness of the lake.
The click of his lighter was unnaturally loud. He inhaled the smoke, watching it dissipate toward the sky, and tried to let the night sounds bring him peace but they stood no chance against his loud thoughts.
He’d ended things with Violet a week ago, the idea of her beside him today felt like too much, and he tried not to dwell on it… He loved her enough to know she deserved better.
Still, it was not the breakup bothering him.
He could tell himself that Ernesto looked like a ghost all he wanted; it didn't change the fact Finn was the one haunting every corner he was in.
Everybody moved on.
He stubbed the cigarette out on a rock and let it fall, tilting his head up and whispering, “Sometimes I feel like I’m right where you left me.”
Was he going to stay there forever?
It's been so long.
Fake it till you make it; and he did it! He'd killed that monster twice. He'd moved on; built a life, a good one; found happiness, or as much as he could anyways.
But there was a part of his mind, a piece of his very soul, that stayed frozen in time, stuck with him and all they could have had.
He was never whole, not even in his happiest moments.
“That’s not what I wanted for you, cariño.”
Supernatural occurrences no longer scared him, they'd been an unwelcome part of his life since that fucking basement; he was numb to them. But that voice… Fuck, almost two decades really managed to make Finney forget how he sounded and he hated himself for it. He had no doubt who it was, though.
His chest constricted, even as a sudden, gentle warmth manifested at his left side.
A sob rose, but he choked it back, a painful lump lodging in his throat. The tears, however, were traitors, tracing cool paths down his cheeks while he kept his eyes on the moon’s reflection on the water.
He breathed in, steadying the tremor in his voice. “What did you want for me then?”
“Dunno,” the voice mused, light and easy as it had always been. “Maybe a white picket fence, two and a half kids. Definitely a dog.”
A strangled sound, half-laugh, half-agony, burst from Finn. It dissolved into harsh, uncontrollable, wrenching sobs as the vivid and cruel images flashed behind his eyes: a porch swing, a muddy dog, Robin’s smile lined with age. He cried until his ribs ached, grateful for the isolating dark, not just because of the ghost-talking thing, but because he knew he was making a pathetic sight.
“I wanted it with you,” he whispered after a while, still not looking at Robin.
“I’m dead, Finn.” The words were gentle, yet each one landed like a shard of glass in his heart.
“Oh, I know.” His reply was flat. “Kinda hard to forget.”
The pain in his chest was so intense that it was almost as bad as any injury he had ever suffered. He had no idea how he was breathing. Why am I even breathing? He wondered with a detached hollowness.
“Look at me, cariño.”
He shook his head.
“Why?”
“You look like a kid,” he said completely helplessly.
Robin laughed quietly and it felt like a physical blow.
“Look at me. Please.”
Slowly, Finn turned and the regret was instantaneous when he saw Robin standing there, exactly as he was at thirteen; the difference in their height now was killing him. He should be taller than me, Finn thought desperately. Would he have been, if he'd had the chance to grow up?
At least he wasn't bloodied.
He was perfect, actually.
An old, wicked wish coursed through him: I wish I had died at thirteen too.
“I fucking love you so much it hurts,” Finn sobbed, disgusted with himself for even saying it when his best friend never made it past his teens, but it was true and he had to say it. “It never goes away. I’ll never be able to stop picturing our life together.”
A translucent hand lifted, cupping the air beside Finn’s cheek; he felt a soothing warmth, like sunlight through glass, right where the touch was supposed to be felt.
“I should have died,” Finn breathed, he could have after escaping and killing that monster, he thought about it a lot of times. “After… after it was over, it would have been my choice. Then I could be with you.”
His best friend's hand dropped, taking the warmth with it. “Don’t say that, mi vida.” Robin’s expression was devastated. “I’ll wait for you.”
Finn’s eyebrow arched in sheer disbelief and he gestured vaguely at Robin’s youthful form.
Robin’s laugh was softer this time. “This is just how I choose to look like today, mi amor. I’m not a child anymore, don’t worry.”
Well, that's good to know.
“Then why… why choose to look like this?” It was not much of a relief, he still would have to go back to his life after that, maybe live for more twenty years before seeing him again.
Robin’s lips thinned, his gaze piercing and guilty. “You still can barely look at Ernie. I didn’t think showing up as a grown man would help. Maybe showing up at all isn't helping.”
“I'd take any chance to see you,” Finn said, his voice desperate. It’s true, fuck his broken heart, knowing that Robin was still out there was worth it. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from reaching out, from trying to straighten that damned bandana.
As much as it hurt, Finn knew Robin was right. Seeing an older version of him would have shattered Finney, would have fed every fantasy of the family they could have had, would have made him long for a ghost beside him, would have ruined years of progress in learning to face his brother-in-law.
“Why today?”
A grin, bright and mischievous. “You think I’d miss my brother’s wedding?”
Finn huffed. “Yeah, but why talk to me?”
“I can feel longing, and while you long for me all the time—” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, making Finn roll his eyes, “—today it got really strong.”
“I wanted it to be us so badly.”
That was why.
No matter how happy he was for Gwen, he couldn’t shake the thought that it should have been them. Maybe they would have done it first, and today they could just team up to tease their siblings. Even when he tried not to think about it, the feeling lingered in the back of his mind. He’d ended a two-year relationship, but what crushed him was knowing it would never be their wedding. Even if they couldn’t have married legally, they would have found another way.
“After our first kiss,” Finn admitted, feeling his face heat as if he were thirteen again, “I thought you’d be my first everything,” he chuckled bitterly. “You never promised me anything, and I was already planning how to convince you to adopt a cat together.”
Robin’s laughter was a free, joyful thing, and Finn let himself drown in the sound of it.
He had missed it so fucking much.
“You were too sweet for your own good, mi amor," Robin teased. "And you're crazy if you think I would agree to adopt a cat.”
“Oh, but I know you would.” Robin had never been able to tell him no.
The, once familiar, fond eye roll was all the confirmation he needed that he was right.
They fell into a silence and Finn wondered what Robin saw when he looked at him, what he thought of the man he had become. Would they have even liked each other, had they been given the chance to grow? He knew he loved him, but liking is different, right?
“You look good in that suit,” Robin blurted out, out of nowhere, then looked immediately flustered.
Finn scrunched his nose. “That’s a little like having a crush on your teacher, you know.”
“Shut up, Blake. I’m older than you.”
“By four months!” The retort was automatic, "That doesn’t count!" Then he stuck his tongue out, a childish gesture that felt suddenly right.
The smile it sparked on Robin’s face was worth any embarrassment he felt after.
The smile faded into something more pensive. “I was sure you’d forget about me after everything at that camp. Not… not entirely, but forget about loving me. We were just kids, I thought I’d be a footnote by now.”
Finn’s throat worked, and he felt suddenly guilty. “I tried. I really did. I even loved someone else, once or twice, but…” It never felt completely right.
“Do you ever think,” Robin ventured, uncharacteristically hesitant, “that maybe you’re just in love with the idea of us? Of what could have been?”
“You said you’d wait for me,” Finn said, not really a question but Robin nodded firmly. “And you’ve waited this far... Wait—” A new, strange thought struck him. “Do ghosts… date? Because I’ve had my chances with other people. If you haven’t… maybe you’re the one who’s hung up on an idea.”
“Is that your way of asking if I’m seeing a nice phantom?" Robin teased, but his eyes were tender. “Don’t worry about that, cariño. Go on.”
Finn went on. “What I'm trying to say is that I know this is real. What we had. What we have. This connection, it's not just about what could've been to me, it's about you. I need you and it’s not going away, Robin.” The tears were back, his chest hurting like someone was squeezing his heart. “God, Robin, I’m sorry, but sometimes I wished it wasn't because it hurts really bad. Missing you is ingrained in me, I do it even when I'm not aware of it. Since I got out, all I’ve wanted is to make you proud, and I—” The sobs took him, shaking his frame.
A warm presence settled on his shoulder, a comfort and a torment.
“Odio verte llorar, mi amor.”
It only made the tears fall harder.
“A veces yo también desearía que lo hubieras olvidado, si eso te hubieras ahorrado este dolor.”
It took several ragged breaths to find his voice. “I still can’t understand Spanish.”
“You’d think you would’ve learned by now.”
Finn cringed.
Spanish reminded him of Robin, so he’d avoided it. It sounded wrong coming from anyone else. He’d flinched the first time he heard Ernesto call Gwen mi vida.
“I know it’s real too, cariño,” Robin whispered brokenly. “But I hate that it hurts you. I wish I could make it better.”
Hearing that youthful voice crack with empathy finally pulled Finn from the depths of his own sorrow. Robin was dead. He hadn’t left Finn by choice, he’d been ripped away in one of the cruelest ways possible. It didn’t matter how much Finn used to like relying on Robin to make things better; that was in the past. Finn was a grown adult now and he needed to get his shit together and stop troubling his friend’s afterlife.
It wasn’t fair. None of it.
Tomorrow, he’d return to his life, his house, his job. He’d come this far; he could keep going. Maybe he’d never feel completely whole, but he would live. He’d sit through boring meetings, go out with friends, and visit Gwen after her honeymoon. Maybe one day he’d have nephews.
He could completely lose his shit when Robin was not looking.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and the certainty in his own voice surprised him. “It hurts like hell sometimes, but I don’t regret loving you. Not for a second.”
Robin's eyes shimmered with light, his smile so soft and beautiful. “I don’t regret it either, and I’m so fucking proud of you, Finn.”
The desire to hug him was almost a physical ache, but knowing it was impossible, Finn simply raised his hands, palms out. Robin understood, mirroring the gesture, their hands touching the best they could in their situation.
“It’s warm where you touch me,” Finn murmured, staring at their palms.
“I can’t feel it,” Robin said sadly. “I’m glad you can, though. You should not be out here without a coat.”
“It’s not cold.”
Robin hummed, brow furrowed. “Your hands are so much bigger now.”
“I’d hope so since I'm thirty-two now.” A faint, teary smile touched Finn’s lips. “Do you think you're taller than me on your adult apparition or whatever?”
“Obviously,” Robin stated with absolute conviction but did not look him in the eyes.
Ha.
“Bullshit! I’m taller than everyone in your family.”
“So?” He squinted, like his statement couldn’t possibly mean a thing in proving his point.
“Oh, I'm totally taller than you,” Finn grinned broadly.
Robin glared, and Finn couldn’t help it, he laughed because it was just too adorable, shaking so hard their hands disconnected. That only made Robin glare more.
“Very funny, Blake,” he grumbled, though he was clearly fighting a smile.
They fell into silence again, and this time Finn let himself memorize every detail of Robin’s face, every feature time had blurred. He wished he could memorize an older version, too.
It was because he was staring so intently that he saw the exact moment Robin’s smile faded.
“You have to go, uh?”
“You know me so well.”
“God, I hate this.” Finn fought back another wave of tears, trying to keep his breathing even.
“I know, mi amor.” Robin extended his hand again and Finn covered it with his own. “You know I love you, right?” The air left Finn's lungs. “I thought… back then, that not saying it would make it easier for you.”
The lack of those words had never mattered, Finn had always known. Robin showed it through actions and thirteen-year-old Finn had been more than satisfied.
Still, hearing it now left him speechless.
He could only nod, his vision swimming.
“Promise me you’ll try to be happy.”
“I promise.” He would promise Robin anything.
Robin’s face lit up, like he had no doubt Finn would honor the promise.
“I love you so damn much,” Finn whispered, like it was a secret and not a fact well-known. “I miss you.”
“But you’ll keep on keeping on, uh?”
Finn snorted wetly. “You know I will.”
Robin’s form was beginning to soften at the edges, but he kept smiling. “Bye, Finn.”
He didn't want to say it.
But he had to.
“Bye, Robin.”
The warmth under his hand vanished almost as quickly as Robin’s form, leaving Finn grasping at empty air and a cold deeper than any he’d felt before.
Finn would go back to his life. He would live. But for now, he bent down to the dirty ground and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe, mourning once more the life he would never have.