above pic is finn

--

"Morning." I muttered wearily, scratching my head as I wandered into the kitchen.

"Morning, Finn." my dad responded, standing up from the table to give me a hug. It was six o'clock in the morning, and the kitchen was dimly lit as I wondered around the small room, fixing myself some breakfast. Sunlight filtered lazily through the window as I sat opposite my dad, who was sipping from a mug of tea and reading his newspaper. Taking a bite of my jam on toast, I relished the calming atmosphere and peaceful silence that had descended upon us like a hazy glow. I had a book with me, 'Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe', and I sat reading it for about an hour. At exactly seven, however, the peace was disrupted.

"Get up! Get up!" the calls echoed around the house, a high pitched voice screaming as it did every morning.

"I'm off to work," my Dad smiled at me.

"Get up!" the voice screeched again.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you, Dad." he leant forward and kissed me on the cheek, his stubble scratching against my face. I watched his figure recede, a tall, lanky, ginger-haired man dressed in a crumpled beige suit. He ducked to go through the doorway, briefcase in hand, and left our house. It was only a short walk to the train station, where he would catch the train to London. Thinking about it, I wasn't actually sure what he did. It was something to do with accounting. His job wasn't particularly low-paying, but he didn't make near enough to comfortably support his whole family, something that he couldn't really help. He worked hard.

He would arrive home about Midnight, and worked every day of the week except Wednesdays, which he spent in bed, so that one hour in the morning was the only time I spent with him. My Dad had suffered with depression for a year now, but he never went to get help for it; he instead just went through the same, mundane routine every day with no change.

"Get up!" my mothers voice began to draw closer. A second later, she appeared in the doorway. "Did you remember to wash your dishes?" she exclaimed. I nodded, and she huffed and strode past, "It doesn't look very clean, Finn."

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"Did you make breakfast for your brothers?"

"Mhm." I responded, shuffling out of the kitchen before she could say anything else. I reached the bottom of the stairs as a slow rumble shook the mirror on the wall, as it did every day when the boys were awake and hungry. Sighing, I stepped to the side. The sound of a hundred hooves thudding against the floor filled my ears as all six of my younger brothers sprinted downstairs, trying to be the first one down so they could get their food first. They ignored me as they piled into the kitchen, and I began my ascent up as soon as the stairway was clear. Our house was tall, and narrow, my bedroom on the third and final floor, along with a single bathroom. It wasn't much use, as the toilet and shower didn't even work.

Entering my room, I sat down on my mattress and sighed. It wasn't very personalised. It was small, and cramped, and stacked with random boxes because the eldest boy in my family, Adam, who was a year younger than me, broke the door to the attic three years ago when he was 13, and the boxes that should have stayed up there, moved down here. It was a small price to pay for my own room, however. There were only three other bedrooms in the house; one for my parents, one for the three oldest brothers and one for the three youngest brothers.

It didn't take me long to get ready for school. I wasn't feeling great, so I just chucked on a hoodie and some leggings with my only pair of nice shoes, my checkered vans. They had been a Christmas present from my parents two years ago, after they won £50 in the lottery and Dad was doing well at work. Better than he was now.

"Finn! Your friends here!" my Mum called up the stairs. I cursed under my breath as I heard shouts and footsteps as my brothers ran out of their bedrooms, having finished their breakfasts a while ago.

"Hey, Rach." I said from the top of the stairs. She was leaning against the doorframe, smirking as all six of my brothers lined up by the bannister, pushing to get a better view, all oogling her in her joggers and crop top, which displayed toned abs I was... also totally not staring at.

"Ignore them, please." I muttered, embarrassed. She had been giving me a lift the past week or so after hearing I walked to school, and my brothers always ran down to stare at her as soon as she turned up on the doorstep.

"No worries." she let out a silvery laugh as I walked down the stairs to meet her. She turned to leave my house, her impossibly long, dark, red-streaked hair swaying as she moved.

"Have you ever watched Harry Potter?" Rachel questioned innocently as we got into her car pulled out of my drive.

"No, my family is not the Weasleys, no I don't know Harry Potter personally, no I'm not Ginny Weasley." I announced, rolling my eyes and sighing in exasperation.

"Woah," Rachel giggled, "Slow down there, soldier. I was just gonna say I have a big collection of Harry Potter books I'm looking to get rid of, and I was wondering if any of your brothers would want to read them. Some of them are quite young."

"Oh." I giggled, embarrassed, "Sorry. Thank you, but I don't really have any money at the moment."

"Shut up," Rachel rolled her eyes, "It's free, idiot."

"No, you don't have to, honestly, it's fine."

"I'm giving them to you whether you like it or not. Consider it an early Christmas present for your family. I'm not saying anything else on the subject, I'm giving them to you, deal with it. We gotta go pick Emma up after James, by the way." Rachel added.

James' house was a gorgeous, large, detached house and I admired it as we pulled up on the driveway. He lived there with his two younger sisters, both of them adopted from Malaysia, and his two parents.

"Can you give Kanta a lift?" James questioned, leaning through the open window as his boyfriend appeared beside him.

"Sure, if you can all fit in the back together," Rachel laughed, "Emma needs a lift, too."

"I'm sure we will!" James grinned. He climbed into the backseat with his boyfriend, and they shared headphones as Rachel shoved an unnamed CD in and bass music blasted out. She nodded her head along to the beat, navigating country lanes as we drove to Emma's village. Her house was on the smaller side, although having two floors, and despite being in a quaint village the area she lived in seemed rather run-down.

"Hey Emma!" Kanta grinned as she opened the car door. They had always gotten on well.

"Hey buddy. Morning guys." Emma grinned at him then us and after smiling back at her I turned to the front. She settled into the backseat with James squashed in the middle as I tried to control my breathing. We hadn't spoke much since the ball. She had become increasingly more reserved around me since that. Part of me was grateful, though. I had become close with Rachel, and couldn't help but fall for her - much quicker than I did with Emma. Leaning forward, Rachel turned up the music to an almost unbearable volume once more as we forgot all previous conversations and house music filtered through the car, windows down. Rachel basked in the disapproving looks cast by pensioners as they drove past.

--

"Hey, wanna come round mine after school?" It was two days later, and Rachel was sat opposite me in Art, red wireless headphones around her neck and a wolfish grin on her face.

"I- Yeah, sure!" I beamed at her and she smiled happily.

"Great. My mum's gone on holiday so I've got a free house all week. I'm gonna have a party tomorrow night, wanna come? Kendra isn't invited." she giggled and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm down as long as Kendra isn't."

"Of course." Rachel grinned again and it was contagious as I chuckled. I hadn't seen Kendra much recently. Whenever she spotted Emma, her eyes would fill with tears and she would burst out crying as her bratty friends put 'comforting' arms around her shoulders and sent deathly glares our way. Kendra was seemingly under the impression that Emma and I were dating, which was untrue. Thankfully untrue, as it appeared I was unable to keep my eyes from Rachel whenever she was in my vicinity.

Just then, I noticed something weird across the classroom. Mrs Elderflower was standing by the sinks, one hand resting lazily on her waist and a tea towel gripped in the other, having just washed a few brushes. She was gazing carefully at Emma across the room, her eyes never moving from Emma's head. Emma was sat chatting animatedly to Isma, a beautiful, dark haired girl that I didn't really know very well. As they spoke, Emma's hand was resting on Isma's upper arm, and Isma was blushing slightly. An untrained eye would suggest they were flirting, but after spending so much time with Emma, I knew she just had a flirty personality. Mrs Elderflower was probably just staring because Emma had forgotten to hand her coursework in. Again.

Emma had a habit of singling you out, putting you in the spotlight and making you feel as if you were the only person in the world. When you're taken out of that spotlight, all of a sudden the world feels rather cold.

"Yo, yo, yo!" Emma appeared besides me, Isma having gone back to her work. Mrs Elderflowers eyes briefly connected with mine before she turned away and continued to wash up. Emma sat down and began to tap her pencil on the table. "I'm bored. Art is boring."

"Why'd you pick it as a subject then?" Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I like... admiring art," Emma glanced at Mrs Elderflower, who was staring at her again, "but I hate painting and shit." she sighed, "It's just so boring. I want to study art, not bloody do it."

"Studying art is boring. You just sit there and stare at some colours and write an essay about it. Making it is fun as hell. You can turn an idea in your head into a historic work of art - a picture that sells for millions!"

"Or a fiver, in your case." Emma snorted.

"Wheyyy!" I giggled at Emma's joke.

"Oi!" Rachel punched my arm playfully, "You're supposed to stick up for me, mate."

"Oh, we're mates?" I said sarcastically.

"Yeah! I'll chuck this paint at you, Finn!" Rachel said adamantly.

"Shut up." I grinned.

"Make me." Rachel winked, and Emma cleared her throat as mine went dry.

"Well... I'll leave you guys to... whatever this is." Emma laughed salaciously and stood up, seeming only happy that her best mate was flirting with her winter ball date, and thankfully not jealous at all. It was strange, how she had gone from liking me to treating me as just a close friend, but personally, I wasn't fussed. I couldn't have had a relationship with Emma whilst liking her best friend, anyways.

--

"So, this is my shitty home. Welcome!" I followed Rachel into her apartment after she unlocked the door. It was clean and well furnished, with an open-plan kitchen and living room. "I live here with my mum and little brother. He's six years old, although they've both gone on holiday to Scotland to visit family. Mum said I couldn't go because she's super ashamed of me." Rachel shrugged.

"Oh, I'm sure she isn't-" I began.

"Nah, she is, trust me Finn. It's just because everyone in her home town thinks I fucked the priests son. Which I DIDN'T." she whipped around and narrowed her eyes, "I absolutely did not fuck the priests son."

"Okay, got it. You didn't fuck the priests son." I giggled as she chucked her rucksack on the sofa.

"I definitely didn't fuck the priests son. I just fucked the priest himself."

"You what!?" I spluttered.

"Yeah, I mean I don't do things in halves, y'know?"

"W-What!?"

"No, I'm joking, I'm joking." she laughed and grabbed my hand, "I stayed because missing a week of lessons in A Levels is a guaranteed way to fail every subject I take. Also, I wanna partyyyy! Come on, come on," Rachel began to drag me into her bedroom, "God, you should see the look on your face!" she exclaimed with a smile that made my heart flutter. Her room was quite big, with three red walls and one black wall. Her bed was a double, with matching red pillows and a red duvet.

"You sure like the colour red."

"You sure like the colour yellow." Rachel retorted, nodding at my yellow rucksack and yellow dress.

We chilled in her room as the hours went by. It got to eight o'clock in the evening, and I realised it was time for me to go. I had outstayed my welcome.

"I should probably head home now." I muttered.

"Nooo..." Rachel groaned, pouting, "Sleep over! We can share my bed!"

"No, I can't." I said, my heart heavy - there was nothing I wanted more in the world right now than to sleep over in Rachels bed, "I have to go home."

"Fine," Rachel sighed, I'll let you go. But only 'cos I like you." she winked.

"Of course." I giggled. We had found ourselves in an odd position, where I was laying on Rachel, with her arms around me and one of her hands playing with my hair. My left hand was dragging lazily up and down her arm, and as I sat up I immediately felt cold without her touch.

"You still coming to the party tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely," I smiled, "See you at school."

"See ya."

--

"Finn. You're awake." My dad appeared in the doorway of the living room, his eyes slightly bloodshot. My father might have been handsome once, but his chiselled features were worn with age and ruined by a long, beak-like nose that had clearly been broken and reset several times. The combination of the two gave his face a somewhat flattened aspect, as though he had angered someone wielding a particularly heavy frying pan. When taken together with the dark circles under his black eyes and the three day stubble decorating his jaw, he looked every inch the broken man I knew deep down he was.

"Couldn't sleep." I responded. I had been sat in the living room since I got back from Rachel's.

"Ah." he muttered. In the light of the lamp, I could see how tired he was, the ghosts of his past dancing in his hollow eyes. He stepped further into the room, almost reluctantly, then walked towards me. "I- I love you, Finn." my Dad said awkwardly, stuttering slightly. I couldn't remember the last time he had said those words to me. Bending over, he embraced me in an uncomfortable, almost suffocating hug, his various limbs digging into me slightly as his skinny body struggled to stay balanced in the awkward position he was in.

"Uh... love you too, Dad." I pushed him off of me ever so slightly and he gave me a gruff nod. I got a whiff of cheap cologne and beer as he lumbered out of the room. There was also the scent of women's perfume; a perfume I knew, sadly, was not my Mothers.