Word count: 479
Pairings: Finn x Reader
Warnings: mild language
“Finn? Are you in here?” You called, knocking on your boyfriend’s bedroom door. You heard him grumble from inside the room. You entered. “Polly let me in.”
You had grown used to this over the past few weeks: the constant feeling of being ignored; the long, awkward silences. It was exhausting trying to drag a conversation out of Finn these days, let alone anything romantic - a decent hug for example, and not just a tap on the shoulder.
“Finn?” You asked expectantly.
“I’ve not the foggiest what gives me this idea,” you started sarcastically, “but I get the feeling you’re not interested in me anymore.”
“Hm.” Finn responded, more interested in the packet of cigarettes in his hands.
“I’ll just leave then shall I?” You asked, heading towards the door, not expecting a response and not receiving one. You slammed the door on your way out.
“(Y/N), what’s wrong, love?” Polly asked as you passed her in the hallway.
“Ask Finn,” you replied, “He might actually talk to you.”
That was the last time you spoke to Finn for a long while. Your mother had noticed him hanging about outside the house and shooed him away before you could catch a glimpse of him.
One Friday morning, your mother had gone to work - she worked alongside Michael at Shelby Brothers Ltd. You were staying in bed because you had developed a head cold.
“(Y/N)?” Finn called as he headed towards your bedroom. You turned on your side, pulled your pillow over your head and tugged your blanket up and past it. Finn knocked on your bedroom door.
“Go away.” You grumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. He opened the door anyway.
“Oh God, are you okay? You look sick.” Finn speculated, concerned for your safety.
“Why do you care? You haven’t for weeks.” That shut him up. “How did you even get in here?”
“Your mum always leaves a key under the mat. (Y/N), please, give me another chance.” You were surprised that he remembered such a mundane fact.
“You had your chance, Finn.”
“Please, (Y/N), I can’t cope without you. Even ask Polly, I was on the Tokyo every day, I didn’t stop smoking. You help me, (Y/N), you’re my anchor.” He sounded like a drowning man.
“I’ll give you one last chance. If you fuck it up, it’s you’re fault.” You said after a long while spent deliberating.
“Thank you, (Y/N). I’ll show you how much this means to me: I’m going to spend the day looking after you.” A single tear rolled down his cheek as he professed his happiness.
And that is how Finn spent the day: making you soup; giving you massages; anything your heart desired. He just needed you to know: he loved you and couldn’t survive without you.