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"Checks!"
I move my head from my pillow, my eyes going to the bright light that emerges from the door, Shannon standing at the entrance. She clicks her pen twice, looking at me and then Finn who sits on his window sill.
After a moment, she leaves as quickly as she entered, shutting the door and leaving us in almost total darkness. The only light being the faint shine from the moon that peaks through Finns window, his silhouette plastered onto the opposite wall.
"Why do they do that?" I question. He turns towards me, his attention brought up from his cigarette and to my question. "What, checks? They always do that," he answers. "Yeah but why?" I press.
He shakes his head, squinting his eyes as he turns back towards the foggy window. "To make sure you didn't die in your sleep or kill yourself. Or you know, to make sure your psycho roommate didn't smother you with a pillow."
The last part made me slightly uncomfortable, now noticing I have sat up in my bed, I tuck my knees in tightly. I clench onto the blanket that i've draped over my shoulders, looking down towards the plain sheets. Though I don't look up, I notice that Finn has turned back to me. His eyes practically burning through the top of my head.
"Not that I would smother you with a pillow," he assures. I look up, barely seeing the features that occupy his face. His dark hair only darker in the lack of light and the side of his face illuminated by the faint gleam from the window.
"That's good to know," I say nervously, wondering how long i've been staring at him and if he's noticed. He nods his head, a weak smile appearing and disappearing as quickly as my will to look away. But he doesn't either.
I take the time to not only take in his features, but the ones that aren't physically on him but are added. The broken seal of his cigarette box, the used matches he stuffs in the corner of the window. The shirt he seems to wear all the time yet it's not dirty, the tattoo on his back that peaks through his shirt at the neck. All things that define a person physically, yet are just added.
Me- well I guess i'm boring. My short hair and my same pack of Embassy's is what makes me, me, nothing else. Yet Finn has all sorts of small details I could pick apart and question.
"What in gods name is so interesting about me that you can stare for that long?" he asks, giving me a toothy smile. I feel my face heat up, my cheeks raise nervously as I realize what I just did was really creepy. I look down, stumbling over my words, "Oh nothing. I guess i'm just tired."
Finn nods his head, hopping down from the edge of the window and throwing his cigarette in a cup of water. He turns to me, stopping in his tracks like he's about to ask a question. "What do you think about?" he finally asks.
Except the question is more challenging than I expected. I think of a lot of things, I even consider myself an over thinker. How would I answer a question as broad as the one he just asked?
"Everything," I answer simply, finding it to be the best possible response. He scrunches his eyebrows, his forehead crinkling as he appears to be on the verge of asking another question again. But he doesn't, not at first. Finn walks forward, his light steps only making a low tapping noise against the hard floor.
I tuck my legs in more, lowering my head as he comes to stand in front of me. It made me uncomfortable, having to look up at him, which I felt with most people. Luckily, I think he notices because he takes a seat right next to me, sighing and putting his hands on his knees before looking over.
"What goes on in your head?" he asks casually, like the question didn't involve me flipping through countless thoughts and memories to even produce a two word answer.
"That's too much to think about," I reply blandly. He moves to the side, at first I thought he was going to fall on me but instead he rests his head on my shoulder. I look down at him, wondering if he was going to spill some secret or this was just the beginning of us falling asleep together again.
"I think a lot. About everything," he admits. I continue to look down at him, eyeing the constellation of freckles and dark eyelashes that brush against his cheeks when he blinks. "I over think," I say, without even meaning to say it. Finn looks up, his glassy eyes meeting mine.
"You do?" he questions and I nod. He then sits up, moving his face closer to mine and bringing his hands up. Each hand cups each side of my face, grabbing my full attention. "Do you think I can ever get better?" he asks me.
I open my mouth, not sure what to even say. He seems like he can be fixed but he also seems like a lost cause. Maybe i'm the same way.
"I don't know," I say, my voice cracks a bit because I don't know and I wish I could say yes but again, I don't know. He nods, "Good answer," he says, before running his hand across the side of my face. I breath in deeply as he leans in, kissing my forehead gently.
"I like talking to you. Even if you're quiet and its not often we talk, I treasure the times we do," he admits in an alluring whisper as he pulls away. I swallow hard, wondering where this sudden fondness came from. I always considered us friends (well kinda) but this is just different.
"Uh me too," I add. He studies my face more, somehow scooting closer to where his knees touch my crossed ones. "Why did you do that?" I question.
"What?" he asks, dumbfounded. "Kiss me," I say. His eyebrows scrunch and he looks confused. But not long after it's replaced with a smile and him moving his head even closer.
"Because I like you. I kiss things I like," he replies. I smile too, unable to keep it away at this point. "You like cigarettes and I don't see you kissing them," I state. "Technically-"
"You know what I mean," I interrupt, him laughing lightly in response. He looks down, pulling away but still keeping his hands on my face. "You don't kiss anyone else here," I say but then immediately regret it. "Or- uh, do you?" I add in a hurry.
He laughs again, looking back up, "No." I blink, pressing my lips together hard to keep from saying anything else embarrassing.
"You wanna sleep?" he asks. I look at him, my hands fumbling around in my lap. "Sure," I reply but he doesn't budge. "With me? and not like-"
"I know," I say into a smile. I don't see him sleep often but every once in awhile he'll ask to join me and I don't say no because well- that's the only time he sleeps. He scoots away from me, falling back on to my pillow that I laid on earlier. I crawl from the foot of the bed to where he lays and lay on my back next to him.
"Goodnight," he says.
"It's probably the morning by now," I add, laying my head on his chest. He laughs, moving his arm around me to pull me closer.
"Shut up and sleep."
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