WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 5/10 (So far)
Word Count: 6029
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Mild Sexual Content
Dinner that night was spaghetti. Regular store-bought pasta but 'secret recipe' sauce. Carole had developed the sauce herself and taught Finn to make it as soon as he was old enough to slice vegetables without needing a trip to the emergency room, so he didn't know exactly who the recipe was a secret from, nonetheless it tasted fine.
Carole watched her son as he loomed over his meal, chin in his hand while he twirled spaghetti around the tines of his fork absentmindedly. Unable to maintain the silence any longer she broached forth, “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Finn replied immediately, almost motionless in his response.
“No, something's wrong,” Carole countered, concerned. “You haven't exactly been peppy since... since what happened, but you look down. Did something happen?”
Finn let go of his fork and watched its tip droop slowly due to it being heavily laden with pasta at the other end, the motion was a near-perfect representation of his mood. As much as he loved his mom, she wasn't a TV mom, she didn't have the answer to every problem ready to be dished out as bite-size wisdom. She had a habit of overcompensating for his lack of a father figure by trying to provide a masculine perspective on his problems in addition to her own. The result was usually a mess and he'd learned long ago that it was often better to look for help elsewhere than walk the minefield of a conversation with her.
“It's...” He started and then quickly ran out of steam. His mood was caused by Will, but he couldn't tell her that and so instead he answered with the problem that had led to him seeking Will to begin with, “Rachel still likes me.”
“Rachel?” Carole repeated, trying to prompt her memory. “The one who made you the cat calendar?”
“That's Rachel,” Finn agreed. It really summed up Rachel very neatly, the one who made the scary couples' cat calendar two weeks after they'd started dating, and he'd broken her heart. The lyrics of her song echoed through his mind and he stabbed the forkful of spaghetti into his mouth forcefully.
“So, do you like her back?” Carole asked warily.
Finn was glad of the mouthful he had to chew before he could reply, it gave him time to consider his answer and there was no clear cut line. Did he like Rachel? He couldn't honestly answer no, but when he compared his feelings for her to the circus that erupted in his chest at the mere mention of Will, he knew for certain that he didn't love her.
“No,” He answered finally. “Not really.”
“Then I guess you have to let her know that.”
“She knows, that's the hard part,” Finn elaborated. “After everything, after Will... She sang this song for Glee today and I just... I hurt her but she still hangs out with me and smiles when she sees me-”
“She sounds like a good friend,” Carole noted.
“I guess I'm feeling lousy because I hurt her and I don't know how to fix it,” Finn finished.
“Start with an apology,” Carole suggested. “Let her know you don't feel that way about her, but make sure she knows you care about her as a friend and appreciate having her.”
“Just apologize?” Finn repeated quizzically.
“The big secret to relationships: sometimes it really is that simple,” Carole announced with a smile.
*
As Finn set his tray down on the lunch table, Rachel looked at him with a warning glare, “If you say the words 'Vanilla Ice' I am going to scream.”
“That, um, wasn't exactly the response I was expecting,” Finn replied to her greeting, clearly perplexed.
“Coach Sylvester decided the theme for our Invitationals will be 'temperature'. I appreciate your attempt to prevent her devouring the soul of the club but this is our chance to put bad white boy rap behind us and move on to greater things. We honored Mr. Schuester's memory, we can do so again when Sectionals comes round, but for now let's just not.”
“I actually didn't want to talk about Glee,” Finn answered her rant bemusedly.
“You didn't?” She asked, a slight redness tingeing her cheeks.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” She recovered quickly and looked at him, expectant and with a hint of the intensity that had always driven him away lurking in her eyes, “About what?”
“Your song on Friday. I-”
“Think it went well,” Rachel cut across rapidly. “Thank you. I think so too.”
“That isn't what... Your performance, you seemed upset and-”
“All good performances need to be acted and not simply sung,” She interrupted again. “I'm glad you appreciated the effort I put in but frankly I'm a little disappointed with Ms. Pillsbury's song choice. I have stronger material in my repertoire: anything from Funny Girl or even within the confines of Wicked there's Defying Gravity, but of course you remember that, and No Good Deed, now that's a song you can put some strength behind.”
Finn let the diva babble herself into silence, watching wordlessly throughout, “I'm sorry, Rachel.”
“For what?” Rachel questioned, a touch hysterically as she ran her fingers repeatedly through a strand of hair.
“You still like me-”
“No, I don't,” She denied, though for all her claims of acting talent the words didn't sound believable. “Why would you-”
“We need to talk about this Rachel,” Finn insisted. “I was hurting, so I ignored you, but I can't just avoid your pain anymore. That's not what friends do.”
“Friends?” Rachel repeated. “Just friends,” She spoke the words like a prison sentence.
Finn squirmed a little, but he couldn't ignore the fact that there was no line in the sand for him to place his feelings behind. “I can't say I don't like you, but with everything that's happened I don't think I'm ready to start dating again.”
“So, maybe sometime?” Rachel prompted hopefully.
“Maybe,” Finn agreed, placing his hand over hers on the tabletop and squeezing for an instant before letting go. But not for a long, long time. He added mentally, a painful pulse running through him as he remembered the unanswered phone call he'd made to Will.
*
Standing in front of the payphone, twirling a quarter between his fingers nervously, Finn's mind ran over the question that had postponed the phone call all weekend. Had Will not answered because he didn't want to or because he was in some kind of trouble? Neither answer was appealing and Finn hated himself a little bit for preferring to think that Will was in some kind of peril, rather than think that he might have willingly ignored him.
Sinking a few coins into the slot, Finn tapped out the number and licked his dry lips, wondering if his soul could stand to hear only the dreary sound of the dial tone a second time.
“Hello?” Tired but otherwise bright and cheerful, the sound of Will's voice made Finn's knees tremble with relief.
“Will.” The name was a sigh on Finn's lips, “Will, it's me.”
“Finn.” The smile was audible, “I was beginning to think you'd forgotten my number.” It was spoken with a twist of humor but he could hear the question the joke concealed.
“On Friday, I- Where were you?” Finn tripped over his question as his heart rate started to smooth out.
“On Friday?” Will repeated the question, perturbed, “I had my first session with Dr. Jackson.”
“Oh.” Finn breathed out softly and considered why he hadn't thought of such a simple solution during his freak out.
“Why?” Will prodded, aware of his concern.
“I called on Friday and you didn't answer. I got a little paranoid,” Finn admitted, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
“Paranoid how?” Will asked, amused.
“I'd narrowed it down to either, you'd been kidnapped or that something really heavy had fallen on top of you and you were trapped,” Finn answered, the heat intensifying as he heard his lover's soft laughter. “So if you hadn't picked up I'd have been at your apartment ready to rescue you, restraining order be damned.”
“That is quite possibly, simultaneously one of the craziest and one of the most romantic things I've ever heard,” Will stated.
“Yeah, well. You aren't trapped so no knight-in-shining-armor for you,” Finn responded to his lover's teasing with affectionate sarcasm.
“Oh darn.” Will's curse lacked any intensity due to his continued laughter, “Then I suppose I'll have to stay trapped in my tower and sing lonely songs to my animal friends.”
“I didn't get it before but now it totally makes sense. You're clearly mad, so they sent you to a shrink.”
“Oh, and this from the one who was all set to charge across town and save me from a heavy wardrobe not two minutes ago,” Will shot back.
“So, we're both crazy,” Finn amended with a smile. “At least Dr. Harper says they're not gonna put me on any drugs, but talking to you feels like a drug. A little boost of happiness when I need it. Is that weird?”
“No, I feel the same,” Will answered openly. “How is Dr. Harper?”
“Evil,” Finn responded casually, as if commenting on the weather. “She smiles like someone in a toothpaste commercial while she's calling you the Devil.”
“Hey, I can't be the Devil,” Will defended himself. “My guy's the Devil. He just sits there and quietly judges me. His eyes, his eyes are like fire.”
Finn wished yet again that he could somehow transport his touch to Will, to comfort him, “Can we make this?”
“We're gonna have to,” Will answered. “Five and a half months, one session every two weeks. That only makes 11 more sessions.”
“11 more sessions,” Finn repeated, sighing heavily at the prospect. “I can manage that.”
“You'll make it. Just remember that I love you Finn.”
Finn smiled gently, “I love you too, Rapunzel.”
“Hey!” Will's offensive cry collapsed quickly into laughter, “Why Rapunzel?”
“You know how much I love your curls,” Finn replied.
“Fine,” Will declared with a dramatic 'huff' sound. “I'll stare out the bedroom window at night and grow my hair long.”
“And stock in Head and Shoulders will triple,” Finn added.
“And you'll wisely cash in on that reaction, buy a motorcycle and rescue me so we can live happily ever after,” Will concluded.
“Happily ever after seems a long way off,” Finn commented, breaking the lightly mocking tone that had built between them.
“We'll make it,” Will reassured. “It won't be easy, but I promise you Finn. We're gonna make it through this.”
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, his chest swollen with affection and his hand pawing at the handset, desperate for human contact. “We will.”
*
“Since Coach Sylvester has decided upon the theme of temperature for our Invitationals, I thought it might be fun to ask you for songs you like that fit that theme,” Ms. Pillsbury explained at the start of Tuesday's Glee practice.
“You mean that you don't have a song prepared,” Santana accused, arms folded defiantly. “Coach Sylvester had a song and a routine planned for us when we showed up yesterday.”
“I am aware of the song choice she has made,” Emma answered, her opinion on the matter very apparent from her disapproving tone. “I simply thought it would be a good idea to offer you some choice in the second song we'll be performing, after all, Glee is about expression. So, does anyone have a suggestion.”
The awkward silence following the question was broken by the least likely person, “I, uhm...” Brittany raised her hand slowly and tried to retract it once the attention of the club had turned her way, “I like that Katy Perry song, Hot n Cold.”
“Great,” Emma beamed and turned to write the song down on the board.
“No, it's 'n',” Brittany corrected.
“Uhn?” Frowning, she looked back at the board, unable to understand what the cheerleader's criticism was.
“It's a British word,” Brittany explained. “Like 'fish n chips', just an 'n'.”
“I see,” Emma responded uncertainly and wiped the offending letters from 'and' away.
“If the theme is temperature, how about Temperature by Sean Paul,” Artie suggested.
“Or The Dull Flame of Desire,” Tina added.
“Madonna's Frozen would work as a good counterpoint to Coach Sylvester's song,” Kurt mused.
“If we're gonna include weather related lyrics, why not the classic Singin' in The Rain,” Rachel proposed.
“If you want to go for weather, you gotta have It's Raining Men,” Mercedes returned.
“Now, that I can agree with,” Santana responded with a grin.
“There's Cold as Ice and November Rain,” Finn supplied.
“Good, this is great guys.” Ms. Pillsbury smiled widely at the group as she finished writing their suggestions down, “Now is there anything here you'd really like to try?”
“The girls outnumber the guys right now, so I'm voting we take Britt's suggestions out for a spin,” Quinn answered.
“Yeah, I want to see her sing it,” Santana added her support.
“I-” Brittany ducked her head, “Someone else should sing it. I'm no good.”
“Girl,” Mercedes leaned across to take her hand. “This is a song that rocks, we're gonna need your sweet moves. Bust out some of that hairography.”
“We'll back you up on the lyrics,” Rachel insisted.“You can do this.”
The rest of the session was spent developing the early stages of a routine. Brittany had no trouble in remembering the words to the very catchy chorus and so they focused most of their effort on building up a dance routine to the contrasting examples outlined in the lyrics. Finn felt as clumsy and uncoordinated as ever but with the upbeat mood everyone was sharing, he focused on the enjoyment of being the example of 'up' to Artie's comparative 'down'.
*
Carole didn't attend Finn's next session at the Aaron Beck institute, stating that while she was entirely supportive of any and all steps towards him recovering, she was not willing to spend another hour alone in a noisy waiting room reading through six-month-old issues of magazines she had no actual interest in reading. Finn found the lack of support strangely supportive, it was almost reassuring to know that his mom had found the session just as insufferable as he had. Unfortunately he wasn't allowed to skip out on attending.
“If you ask me to show you on the doll where he touched me, I'm leaving and nothing you say or do will stop me,” Finn informed, slouched back in his seat with his arms folded. The perfect picture of a reluctant teenager.
“I wasn't intending to,” Dr. Harper placated calmly. “The doll is going to serve as a prop.”
“How?” Finn questioned dubiously.
“The doll will represent Mr. Schuester. I'll provide conversational cues and I want you to reply to them honestly so I can observe and understand the dynamic between you.” She passed the stuffed toy across and Finn accepted it reluctantly, “Now if you were greeting Mr. Schuester in a classroom environment, how would you do that?”
Finn looked into the blank button-eyes of the doll and felt ridiculous. “Well, hey Mr. Schue,” He declared, over-emphasizing each word due to the discomfort of the false situation. “Why are you suddenly only ten inches tall?”
“Finn,” Dr. Harper denounced.
“I'm sure that would be my honest reaction to the situation,” Finn defended, letting the doll sag in his grip.
“I am aware this might be uncomfortable for you and this was an attempt to make things less awkward. Are you going to cooperate?” Her eyebrows arched imperiously.
“I, okay, but...” Finn looked down at the doll. It wasn't quite marionette but similar enough to cause discomfort, “Can I change the doll?”
Dr. Harper tucked a stray strand of hair back into place, “If it will help, I suppose so.”
The near-marionette doll was dropped unceremoniously back into the chest and quickly buried under several animal hand-puppets. Searching through the toys for one better suited to represent his lover, Finn once again felt that the entire scenario was stupid but settled on a humanoid sheep plushie with a head of curls similar to Will's and a collar and bow-tie at its neck.
“So,” Dr. Harper prompted once Finn had sat down again. “If you were greeting Mr. Schuester in a classroom, how would you do that?”
Finn looked down at the sheep, bit back a smart-mouthed comment and answered, “Hey, Mr. Schue.”
“That would be it?” The psychologist pressed.
“Yeah, then I'd probably sit down and wait for the lesson to start.”
“So it was important that you didn't express your relationship where others could see it,” She summarized.
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, desperately wanting to add 'duh' to the end.
“Did he tell you that, set rules or guidelines as to how you were to behave?” She asked.
“Uh no, he didn't tell me not to, I just didn't. It seemed kinda obvious,” Finn explained.
“What about outside of school?” Dr. Harper asked, “How would you greet him at, say, his apartment?”
Finn looked down at the woolly-headed impersonation of the man he loved and felt a grumble of frustration building in his chest. Pushing it down, he recalled the sweet sincerity with which Will had told him that he could make it through the psychologist's torment and spoke with affection, “Hey Will.” He looked up at the doctor, “Then I'd probably kiss him.”
“Would the kissing continue?” She inquired clinically, showing no reaction to the tenderness in his voice.
“Sometimes.” Finn turned his gaze back to the stuffed toy but his mind wandered away to memories of Will, “Other times we'd just talk, or eat, he's a great cook. At times he had schoolwork to mark, so he'd put a CD on and lay down on the couch, I'd sit on the floor with my head leaned back against his legs and just let the music wash over me.” Finn smiled shallowly at the phantom sensation of fingers reaching down to ruffle through his hair, while Will promised 'Nearly done'.
“Did he push for physical intimacy?” Again, she seemed to be unmoved.
“You mean sex?” Finn questioned, “You've got that backwards. I pushed him, I think it would be better described as begging.”
She coughed uncomfortably, “So you wanted to pursue a sexual relationship and he didn't?”
Finn was confused for an instant before he remembered his lie, as far as Dr. Harper knew there had been no naughty-touching between him and Will, “I wouldn't say he didn't want it.” Finn's ego had grown strong from Will's desire and it would hurt to claim that he had expressed no interest at all, “He was very firm about how far our relationship should go.”
“Where was that limit precisely?” Dr. Harper queried.
Finn dropped his gaze back to the toy sheep, remembering that dishonesty could be seen in a person's eyes, “Kissing, heavy kissing, but nothing below the belt.” In his mind he rationalized that his words weren't strictly a lie, Will's belt was always shed long before they reached the bedroom.
The doctor kept her head down and scribbled notes for a minute or so, “I believe that's enough for today.”
Finn nodded and returned the Schue-Sheep to the toy chest, “So now what?”
“As we've covered the first of our goals, I think we should move onto our second: your attitude,” Dr. Harper answered. “I want us to try a word association game. I'm going to list some aspects of your life and I'd like you to tell me how you feel about each of them in as few words as you can.”
“Okay,” Finn nodded and fell back into his reluctant teenager stance in preparation.
“School,” She stated.
“Sucks,” Finn replied readily.
“Home.”
“Lonely,” Finn responded after a moment's thought.
“Mr. Schuester.”
From the burst of emotions the name invoked in Finn's chest, he chose the strongest and the most familiar, “Love.”
She frowned at his response and spoke again, “Glee club.”
“Nightmare.”
“Okay.” Dr. Harper picked up her pen again and scribbled more notes onto the clipboard, “I'm detecting a lot of negativity.”
Finn snorted in disbelief, “No, really?”
She glared for a few seconds before smoothing her features into a neutral expression, “If you want to feel better Finn, you need to find something to be positive about.”
“Like...” Finn prompted, leaving a gap for her to fill.
“You said Glee club is a nightmare, when surely it should be something you enjoy. What's making the club so unbearable?”
“Coach Sylvester,” Finn answered ominously.
“I... I believe I've heard that name.” She began flipping through the notes she had on hand.
“She's the one who turned in Will,” Finn informed to cut short the search. “She got him fired, took over the club and now she's ruling with an iron fist.”
“She's a demanding leader?” Dr. Harper questioned.
“She's a monster,” Finn declared passionately. “We have Invitationals this Friday and she's totally obsessed with being the best, she's working us to the bone trying to get our performance up to her insane standards.”
“She sounds a little intense but surely it's a good thing that she expects the very best of you.”
“More than one of us is on the edge of a breakdown,” Finn responded. “And she's only going to get worse once she puts our set-list for Sectionals together.”
“You're making this sound like some kind of torture, if it's really so bad why would you stay in the club?”
“The club needs 12 members to compete, we have exactly 12 members. If one of us drops out, everyone else suffers. We're a team and we're in it together.”
“Well surely that's something,” Dr. Harper stated optimistically. “A good team spirit, friends you can rely on. That's something positive you can focus on.”
Finn thought about Matt, Mike and Puck's continued absence from Tuesday practice sessions and how Brittany and Santana refused to acknowledge him outside of the choir room, “Yeah,” He answered with a bitter grimace.
*
Dr. Harper gave Finn a small notepad and instructed him to keep a diary of positive things that occurred over the fortnight before their next session. Finn wrote down that dinner that Sunday night was Chinese takeout because his mom had a date with Burt and then dropped the notepad in his desk drawer and left it there.
Flopping back onto the bed, he briefly considered what he could do since he was alone in the house for the evening, before quickly coming to the conclusion that he was in no mood for anything overly elaborate and so he simply stayed there in bed, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling and letting his mind wander.
It didn't take long for his mind to turn to Will. They'd spoken enough over the past weeks for Finn to know about Will's job as the night guard at the Lima museum; where, Finn was disappointed to learn, things did not come to life at night. He turned his gaze to the dark window and figured that Will was already at work, guarding the uninteresting assortment of art and historical artifacts that counted as Lima's culture. He wondered, with a slight smirk, if there was anything in the Lima museum that was actually worth stealing, which was the thought that sparked the fantasy.
Finn Hudson, world-renowned thief, was breaking into the Lima museum to-
He stopped short and reconsidered, anyone who had stolen from the Louvre was hardly going to show up in Lima, Ohio.
Finn Hudson, first-time thief, was breaking into the Lima museum, since it was probably best to start out somewhere small. He was on the roof, because any decent break-in needed to involve some high-wire work like out of Mission: Impossible. Inside without alerting a single alarm, he began to make his way towards the wing that held the doohickey he'd come to steal when he was spotted by the night guard...
Finn knew the job came with a uniform but had never actually seen it, so he had to design it with his imagination.
It started with a beam of light, a heavy duty flashlight, the kind that ran on D batteries, shining towards the thief, obscuring his view of the approaching guard. The heavy jingle of dozens of keys on a chain and the tap of shiny, polished dress shoes on the tile floor. As the guard approached and stepped more into the light, the thief could begin to make him out. Polyester slacks, a little tight in the places where it mattered, and a matching polyester jacket over a white shirt and tie.
Finn couldn't imagine Will without a tie, Will was naked without a tie. Sometimes when he pictured Will naked, he pictured him with a tie still on. That image got a reaction from Finn's cock and he reached down to rub himself through his pants as he turned his mind back to the fantasy.
A name tag that read 'Will' shining brightly on the guard's breast and as he took the final steps closer, a face, a devastatingly handsome face.
“Stay where you are,” The guard instructed.
The thief held his hands aloft in surrender and appealed to the guard's good nature, “I haven't stolen anything yet, please just let me leave.”
“Why should I?” The guard asked.
In his bedroom Finn unzipped his fly and ventured his hand into his pants, stroking as he imagined stepping closer to the night guard and placing a hand to his crotch to feel the growing hardness there.
“I can make it worth your while,” The thief whispered, voice full of filthy promises, as he massaged the bulge in the guard's pants.
Finn pushed his pants and underwear down past his hips as he pictured himself on his knees in the dimly lit hall of the museum. He licked a stripe across his palm and returned his hand to work at his erection. He sucked on his lower lip, as in his mind he sucked on something else.
The guard keened and gasped and placed a hand uncertainly at the thief's neck, his thumb rubbing encouragingly just behind the thief's ear.
Finn's free hand scratched thin pink lines across his flat stomach, then dipped down to cup his tense balls as his mind was filled with the sounds his lover made close to orgasm.
“Will,” He whined, spurts of semen shooting from the tip of his cock onto his bare abdomen.
For a few moments he lay still, his spent cock receding and the fluid on his belly, and hanging in droplets from his pubic hair, cooling. Each breath was a little longer but there was none of the heaviness of breath that came after strenuous exertion. He felt empty.
He cleaned up, first with Kleenex and then by taking a shower, before he settled back into bed and considered the empty feeling in his chest. The night guard spoke no name as he came, he didn't know the name of the young thief. They were strangers and that fact made the fantasy unsatisfying. Pulling a pillow to his chest, Finn whispered his lover's name and had to depend on his mind to provide the reply.
*
Looking into Dr. Jackson's eyes was still an uncomfortable experience for Will during his second session. The doctor spent the first five minutes after having greeted Will focused on the contents of a file, so he had a lot of time to observe the psychologist without the concern that he would be caught in a piercing gaze.
As the minutes dragged silently on, Will began to feel uncomfortable. He checked his watch a couple of times, aware of the small window of opportunity he would have in managing to answer Finn's scheduled phone call and concerned that his session with the doctor would cause him to miss that chance.
Dr. Jackson broke the silence, “I should tell you William that I have been looking into your past.”
“You have?” Will asked, a little uncomfortable with the concept.
“CCT works on a principle of holism. I must understand every aspect of your life in order to perceive the cause of your actions,” The psychologist explained. “I was interested to learn that you already had a file here at the institute.”
The feeling of discomfort intensified as Will tried to accept the invasion into his privacy the psychologist had made, “That was a long time ago.”
“Holistic theory,” Dr. Jackson repeated. “Your past shapes the person you are in the present. I have read the file but I'm interested to hear your account of events from a modern perspective.”
Will sighed deeply as he turned his thoughts to a part of his life he tried his hardest to ignore at all times, “There were... concerns about me.”
“What do you mean by 'concerns'?” The doctor prompted.
“My home life wasn't great,” Will responded. “But this is Lima, no-one's home life is great,” He asserted defensively.
“What were your problems specifically?”
“My parents weren't getting along. There were arguments, fights... A neighbor got social services involved to make sure I wasn't being affected. That's it really.”
“I understand this isn't easy, William.” The doctor leaned closer, his ice-blue eyes wide with sympathy, “But I need you to tell me more. Be clearer about what happened, what you remember.”
“I just...”Will sighed and hung his head, “No-one's family is perfect and it seemed so unfair that they were focusing on me. My parents weren't worse than any others.”
“Other parents don't burn their house down,” The psychologist pointed out.
“That was one bad decision,” Will defended. “One big fight, one bad day.”
“Did it affect you?”
“I wasn't home when it happened,” Will answered. “So, no big trauma. It was just like we'd moved house, I didn't worry about the why.”
“How were things afterward?”
“If they bothered to keep an eye on me, the answers should be in that file. I started high school, I got good grades and I was popular. No big consequences of my father's adventures in arson,” He summarized. “My parents are good, honest people and I love and respect them as much today as I did when I was 14. So, I don't want to hear you say that this is all their fault somehow.”
“I'm not here to apportion blame,” Dr. Jackson soothed calmly. “I'm only seeking to understand.”
Heavy silence settled over the office again and Will took the opportunity to look at his watch, quickly calculating that he would still be able to arrive home in time for Finn's phone call if the session continued at its current pace.
“Our parents provide a model for us to base our own relationships on,” Dr. Jackson stated, closing the file and setting it aside. “I was interested in the relationship between your parents in how it might connect to your recent divorce.”
“There is no connection,” Will dismissed tumultuously. “My parents have their problems, but they're still married. My divorce was because of problems between myself and my ex-wife, it had nothing to do with a broken model of a working relationship.”
“I didn't mean to imply as much,” The psychologist apologized. “As I said, I'm looking to understand, looking for possible connections. Would you kindly elaborate on the nature of your marriage and the events that led to your divorce.”
Will felt a sudden, strong sense of empathy for the many small European nations that had suffered numerous organized military assaults in their history. “I met Terri when I was 15, after that she was never out of my life. We got married after college, we'd been together so long it just seemed like the thing to do. I loved her and I know she loved me, but that wasn't the sole motivation behind our being together. We started drifting apart, our interests and attitudes changed as time went by, but we both clung to the image of the kids we'd been in High School.”
“So what broke the relationship?”
“She lied,” Will answered darkly. “A big, ugly, prolonged, elaborate lie. She thought that she was pregnant, when she found out she wasn't she decided the best response would be to hide it and adopt the unwanted child of one of my students. She fully planned to let me raise someone's little girl believing she was my own.” He took a moment to breathe, to let the tightness that had built in his throat loosen, “When I found out what she'd done, I realized how much she'd changed, how much things had changed between us. The trust was gone, any remainder of the love I'd felt for her died and I knew then that it was over between us.”
“I'm sorry for the way things worked out,” Dr. Jackson expressed with sympathy. “Long-term relationships rarely come to a comfortable finale.”
“Are you divorced?” Will asked, recognizing a tone in the psychologist's voice that hinted at a story behind the words.
“I've never been married.” He lifted a hand to his hair and pulled at the strands of a skunk patch, the gesture seemed to be performed unconsciously, “But I've had a share of bad break-ups.” He seemed to realize that they'd strayed away from the topic and quickly reasserted himself, “How did you handle yourself following the separation?”
“Badly,” Will summarized with a wry, humorless smile. “There was a colleague I was interested in, Emma. She and I had been flirting even before I broke things off with Terri. It didn't go well. I'd been with Terri half my life, suddenly not having her made me a little crazy and I wasn't sure what I wanted. There were women: one was an old friend, the other I'd only just met. Emma found out and that ruined my chances with her, it took a long time to even get our friendship back. I think the shock of her calling me out made me calm down, I stopped and reconsidered everything.”
“Where does Finn fit into this?” Dr. Jackson questioned.
“He came after,” Will replied firmly. “Finn didn't tell me about his feelings until a short while after Emma shocked me straight, figuratively speaking.”
The psychologist gave a small, amused grin at Will's comment and marked some things down on his clipboard,“I believe that's enough for today. Talking intensely like this can be very emotionally draining so I don't want to over-exert you.”
Will smiled appreciatively and glanced at his watch on the way out, concluding that he would arrive home in time to answer Finn's call.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 5/10 (So far)
Word Count: 6029
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Mild Sexual Content
Dinner that night was spaghetti. Regular store-bought pasta but 'secret recipe' sauce. Carole had developed the sauce herself and taught Finn to make it as soon as he was old enough to slice vegetables without needing a trip to the emergency room, so he didn't know exactly who the recipe was a secret from, nonetheless it tasted fine.
Carole watched her son as he loomed over his meal, chin in his hand while he twirled spaghetti around the tines of his fork absentmindedly. Unable to maintain the silence any longer she broached forth, “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Finn replied immediately, almost motionless in his response.
“No, something's wrong,” Carole countered, concerned. “You haven't exactly been peppy since... since what happened, but you look down. Did something happen?”
Finn let go of his fork and watched its tip droop slowly due to it being heavily laden with pasta at the other end, the motion was a near-perfect representation of his mood. As much as he loved his mom, she wasn't a TV mom, she didn't have the answer to every problem ready to be dished out as bite-size wisdom. She had a habit of overcompensating for his lack of a father figure by trying to provide a masculine perspective on his problems in addition to her own. The result was usually a mess and he'd learned long ago that it was often better to look for help elsewhere than walk the minefield of a conversation with her.
“It's...” He started and then quickly ran out of steam. His mood was caused by Will, but he couldn't tell her that and so instead he answered with the problem that had led to him seeking Will to begin with, “Rachel still likes me.”
“Rachel?” Carole repeated, trying to prompt her memory. “The one who made you the cat calendar?”
“That's Rachel,” Finn agreed. It really summed up Rachel very neatly, the one who made the scary couples' cat calendar two weeks after they'd started dating, and he'd broken her heart. The lyrics of her song echoed through his mind and he stabbed the forkful of spaghetti into his mouth forcefully.
“So, do you like her back?” Carole asked warily.
Finn was glad of the mouthful he had to chew before he could reply, it gave him time to consider his answer and there was no clear cut line. Did he like Rachel? He couldn't honestly answer no, but when he compared his feelings for her to the circus that erupted in his chest at the mere mention of Will, he knew for certain that he didn't love her.
“No,” He answered finally. “Not really.”
“Then I guess you have to let her know that.”
“She knows, that's the hard part,” Finn elaborated. “After everything, after Will... She sang this song for Glee today and I just... I hurt her but she still hangs out with me and smiles when she sees me-”
“She sounds like a good friend,” Carole noted.
“I guess I'm feeling lousy because I hurt her and I don't know how to fix it,” Finn finished.
“Start with an apology,” Carole suggested. “Let her know you don't feel that way about her, but make sure she knows you care about her as a friend and appreciate having her.”
“Just apologize?” Finn repeated quizzically.
“The big secret to relationships: sometimes it really is that simple,” Carole announced with a smile.
*
As Finn set his tray down on the lunch table, Rachel looked at him with a warning glare, “If you say the words 'Vanilla Ice' I am going to scream.”
“That, um, wasn't exactly the response I was expecting,” Finn replied to her greeting, clearly perplexed.
“Coach Sylvester decided the theme for our Invitationals will be 'temperature'. I appreciate your attempt to prevent her devouring the soul of the club but this is our chance to put bad white boy rap behind us and move on to greater things. We honored Mr. Schuester's memory, we can do so again when Sectionals comes round, but for now let's just not.”
“I actually didn't want to talk about Glee,” Finn answered her rant bemusedly.
“You didn't?” She asked, a slight redness tingeing her cheeks.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” She recovered quickly and looked at him, expectant and with a hint of the intensity that had always driven him away lurking in her eyes, “About what?”
“Your song on Friday. I-”
“Think it went well,” Rachel cut across rapidly. “Thank you. I think so too.”
“That isn't what... Your performance, you seemed upset and-”
“All good performances need to be acted and not simply sung,” She interrupted again. “I'm glad you appreciated the effort I put in but frankly I'm a little disappointed with Ms. Pillsbury's song choice. I have stronger material in my repertoire: anything from Funny Girl or even within the confines of Wicked there's Defying Gravity, but of course you remember that, and No Good Deed, now that's a song you can put some strength behind.”
Finn let the diva babble herself into silence, watching wordlessly throughout, “I'm sorry, Rachel.”
“For what?” Rachel questioned, a touch hysterically as she ran her fingers repeatedly through a strand of hair.
“You still like me-”
“No, I don't,” She denied, though for all her claims of acting talent the words didn't sound believable. “Why would you-”
“We need to talk about this Rachel,” Finn insisted. “I was hurting, so I ignored you, but I can't just avoid your pain anymore. That's not what friends do.”
“Friends?” Rachel repeated. “Just friends,” She spoke the words like a prison sentence.
Finn squirmed a little, but he couldn't ignore the fact that there was no line in the sand for him to place his feelings behind. “I can't say I don't like you, but with everything that's happened I don't think I'm ready to start dating again.”
“So, maybe sometime?” Rachel prompted hopefully.
“Maybe,” Finn agreed, placing his hand over hers on the tabletop and squeezing for an instant before letting go. But not for a long, long time. He added mentally, a painful pulse running through him as he remembered the unanswered phone call he'd made to Will.
*
Standing in front of the payphone, twirling a quarter between his fingers nervously, Finn's mind ran over the question that had postponed the phone call all weekend. Had Will not answered because he didn't want to or because he was in some kind of trouble? Neither answer was appealing and Finn hated himself a little bit for preferring to think that Will was in some kind of peril, rather than think that he might have willingly ignored him.
Sinking a few coins into the slot, Finn tapped out the number and licked his dry lips, wondering if his soul could stand to hear only the dreary sound of the dial tone a second time.
“Hello?” Tired but otherwise bright and cheerful, the sound of Will's voice made Finn's knees tremble with relief.
“Will.” The name was a sigh on Finn's lips, “Will, it's me.”
“Finn.” The smile was audible, “I was beginning to think you'd forgotten my number.” It was spoken with a twist of humor but he could hear the question the joke concealed.
“On Friday, I- Where were you?” Finn tripped over his question as his heart rate started to smooth out.
“On Friday?” Will repeated the question, perturbed, “I had my first session with Dr. Jackson.”
“Oh.” Finn breathed out softly and considered why he hadn't thought of such a simple solution during his freak out.
“Why?” Will prodded, aware of his concern.
“I called on Friday and you didn't answer. I got a little paranoid,” Finn admitted, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
“Paranoid how?” Will asked, amused.
“I'd narrowed it down to either, you'd been kidnapped or that something really heavy had fallen on top of you and you were trapped,” Finn answered, the heat intensifying as he heard his lover's soft laughter. “So if you hadn't picked up I'd have been at your apartment ready to rescue you, restraining order be damned.”
“That is quite possibly, simultaneously one of the craziest and one of the most romantic things I've ever heard,” Will stated.
“Yeah, well. You aren't trapped so no knight-in-shining-armor for you,” Finn responded to his lover's teasing with affectionate sarcasm.
“Oh darn.” Will's curse lacked any intensity due to his continued laughter, “Then I suppose I'll have to stay trapped in my tower and sing lonely songs to my animal friends.”
“I didn't get it before but now it totally makes sense. You're clearly mad, so they sent you to a shrink.”
“Oh, and this from the one who was all set to charge across town and save me from a heavy wardrobe not two minutes ago,” Will shot back.
“So, we're both crazy,” Finn amended with a smile. “At least Dr. Harper says they're not gonna put me on any drugs, but talking to you feels like a drug. A little boost of happiness when I need it. Is that weird?”
“No, I feel the same,” Will answered openly. “How is Dr. Harper?”
“Evil,” Finn responded casually, as if commenting on the weather. “She smiles like someone in a toothpaste commercial while she's calling you the Devil.”
“Hey, I can't be the Devil,” Will defended himself. “My guy's the Devil. He just sits there and quietly judges me. His eyes, his eyes are like fire.”
Finn wished yet again that he could somehow transport his touch to Will, to comfort him, “Can we make this?”
“We're gonna have to,” Will answered. “Five and a half months, one session every two weeks. That only makes 11 more sessions.”
“11 more sessions,” Finn repeated, sighing heavily at the prospect. “I can manage that.”
“You'll make it. Just remember that I love you Finn.”
Finn smiled gently, “I love you too, Rapunzel.”
“Hey!” Will's offensive cry collapsed quickly into laughter, “Why Rapunzel?”
“You know how much I love your curls,” Finn replied.
“Fine,” Will declared with a dramatic 'huff' sound. “I'll stare out the bedroom window at night and grow my hair long.”
“And stock in Head and Shoulders will triple,” Finn added.
“And you'll wisely cash in on that reaction, buy a motorcycle and rescue me so we can live happily ever after,” Will concluded.
“Happily ever after seems a long way off,” Finn commented, breaking the lightly mocking tone that had built between them.
“We'll make it,” Will reassured. “It won't be easy, but I promise you Finn. We're gonna make it through this.”
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, his chest swollen with affection and his hand pawing at the handset, desperate for human contact. “We will.”
*
“Since Coach Sylvester has decided upon the theme of temperature for our Invitationals, I thought it might be fun to ask you for songs you like that fit that theme,” Ms. Pillsbury explained at the start of Tuesday's Glee practice.
“You mean that you don't have a song prepared,” Santana accused, arms folded defiantly. “Coach Sylvester had a song and a routine planned for us when we showed up yesterday.”
“I am aware of the song choice she has made,” Emma answered, her opinion on the matter very apparent from her disapproving tone. “I simply thought it would be a good idea to offer you some choice in the second song we'll be performing, after all, Glee is about expression. So, does anyone have a suggestion.”
The awkward silence following the question was broken by the least likely person, “I, uhm...” Brittany raised her hand slowly and tried to retract it once the attention of the club had turned her way, “I like that Katy Perry song, Hot n Cold.”
“Great,” Emma beamed and turned to write the song down on the board.
“No, it's 'n',” Brittany corrected.
“Uhn?” Frowning, she looked back at the board, unable to understand what the cheerleader's criticism was.
“It's a British word,” Brittany explained. “Like 'fish n chips', just an 'n'.”
“I see,” Emma responded uncertainly and wiped the offending letters from 'and' away.
“If the theme is temperature, how about Temperature by Sean Paul,” Artie suggested.
“Or The Dull Flame of Desire,” Tina added.
“Madonna's Frozen would work as a good counterpoint to Coach Sylvester's song,” Kurt mused.
“If we're gonna include weather related lyrics, why not the classic Singin' in The Rain,” Rachel proposed.
“If you want to go for weather, you gotta have It's Raining Men,” Mercedes returned.
“Now, that I can agree with,” Santana responded with a grin.
“There's Cold as Ice and November Rain,” Finn supplied.
“Good, this is great guys.” Ms. Pillsbury smiled widely at the group as she finished writing their suggestions down, “Now is there anything here you'd really like to try?”
“The girls outnumber the guys right now, so I'm voting we take Britt's suggestions out for a spin,” Quinn answered.
“Yeah, I want to see her sing it,” Santana added her support.
“I-” Brittany ducked her head, “Someone else should sing it. I'm no good.”
“Girl,” Mercedes leaned across to take her hand. “This is a song that rocks, we're gonna need your sweet moves. Bust out some of that hairography.”
“We'll back you up on the lyrics,” Rachel insisted.“You can do this.”
The rest of the session was spent developing the early stages of a routine. Brittany had no trouble in remembering the words to the very catchy chorus and so they focused most of their effort on building up a dance routine to the contrasting examples outlined in the lyrics. Finn felt as clumsy and uncoordinated as ever but with the upbeat mood everyone was sharing, he focused on the enjoyment of being the example of 'up' to Artie's comparative 'down'.
*
Carole didn't attend Finn's next session at the Aaron Beck institute, stating that while she was entirely supportive of any and all steps towards him recovering, she was not willing to spend another hour alone in a noisy waiting room reading through six-month-old issues of magazines she had no actual interest in reading. Finn found the lack of support strangely supportive, it was almost reassuring to know that his mom had found the session just as insufferable as he had. Unfortunately he wasn't allowed to skip out on attending.
“If you ask me to show you on the doll where he touched me, I'm leaving and nothing you say or do will stop me,” Finn informed, slouched back in his seat with his arms folded. The perfect picture of a reluctant teenager.
“I wasn't intending to,” Dr. Harper placated calmly. “The doll is going to serve as a prop.”
“How?” Finn questioned dubiously.
“The doll will represent Mr. Schuester. I'll provide conversational cues and I want you to reply to them honestly so I can observe and understand the dynamic between you.” She passed the stuffed toy across and Finn accepted it reluctantly, “Now if you were greeting Mr. Schuester in a classroom environment, how would you do that?”
Finn looked into the blank button-eyes of the doll and felt ridiculous. “Well, hey Mr. Schue,” He declared, over-emphasizing each word due to the discomfort of the false situation. “Why are you suddenly only ten inches tall?”
“Finn,” Dr. Harper denounced.
“I'm sure that would be my honest reaction to the situation,” Finn defended, letting the doll sag in his grip.
“I am aware this might be uncomfortable for you and this was an attempt to make things less awkward. Are you going to cooperate?” Her eyebrows arched imperiously.
“I, okay, but...” Finn looked down at the doll. It wasn't quite marionette but similar enough to cause discomfort, “Can I change the doll?”
Dr. Harper tucked a stray strand of hair back into place, “If it will help, I suppose so.”
The near-marionette doll was dropped unceremoniously back into the chest and quickly buried under several animal hand-puppets. Searching through the toys for one better suited to represent his lover, Finn once again felt that the entire scenario was stupid but settled on a humanoid sheep plushie with a head of curls similar to Will's and a collar and bow-tie at its neck.
“So,” Dr. Harper prompted once Finn had sat down again. “If you were greeting Mr. Schuester in a classroom, how would you do that?”
Finn looked down at the sheep, bit back a smart-mouthed comment and answered, “Hey, Mr. Schue.”
“That would be it?” The psychologist pressed.
“Yeah, then I'd probably sit down and wait for the lesson to start.”
“So it was important that you didn't express your relationship where others could see it,” She summarized.
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, desperately wanting to add 'duh' to the end.
“Did he tell you that, set rules or guidelines as to how you were to behave?” She asked.
“Uh no, he didn't tell me not to, I just didn't. It seemed kinda obvious,” Finn explained.
“What about outside of school?” Dr. Harper asked, “How would you greet him at, say, his apartment?”
Finn looked down at the woolly-headed impersonation of the man he loved and felt a grumble of frustration building in his chest. Pushing it down, he recalled the sweet sincerity with which Will had told him that he could make it through the psychologist's torment and spoke with affection, “Hey Will.” He looked up at the doctor, “Then I'd probably kiss him.”
“Would the kissing continue?” She inquired clinically, showing no reaction to the tenderness in his voice.
“Sometimes.” Finn turned his gaze back to the stuffed toy but his mind wandered away to memories of Will, “Other times we'd just talk, or eat, he's a great cook. At times he had schoolwork to mark, so he'd put a CD on and lay down on the couch, I'd sit on the floor with my head leaned back against his legs and just let the music wash over me.” Finn smiled shallowly at the phantom sensation of fingers reaching down to ruffle through his hair, while Will promised 'Nearly done'.
“Did he push for physical intimacy?” Again, she seemed to be unmoved.
“You mean sex?” Finn questioned, “You've got that backwards. I pushed him, I think it would be better described as begging.”
She coughed uncomfortably, “So you wanted to pursue a sexual relationship and he didn't?”
Finn was confused for an instant before he remembered his lie, as far as Dr. Harper knew there had been no naughty-touching between him and Will, “I wouldn't say he didn't want it.” Finn's ego had grown strong from Will's desire and it would hurt to claim that he had expressed no interest at all, “He was very firm about how far our relationship should go.”
“Where was that limit precisely?” Dr. Harper queried.
Finn dropped his gaze back to the toy sheep, remembering that dishonesty could be seen in a person's eyes, “Kissing, heavy kissing, but nothing below the belt.” In his mind he rationalized that his words weren't strictly a lie, Will's belt was always shed long before they reached the bedroom.
The doctor kept her head down and scribbled notes for a minute or so, “I believe that's enough for today.”
Finn nodded and returned the Schue-Sheep to the toy chest, “So now what?”
“As we've covered the first of our goals, I think we should move onto our second: your attitude,” Dr. Harper answered. “I want us to try a word association game. I'm going to list some aspects of your life and I'd like you to tell me how you feel about each of them in as few words as you can.”
“Okay,” Finn nodded and fell back into his reluctant teenager stance in preparation.
“School,” She stated.
“Sucks,” Finn replied readily.
“Home.”
“Lonely,” Finn responded after a moment's thought.
“Mr. Schuester.”
From the burst of emotions the name invoked in Finn's chest, he chose the strongest and the most familiar, “Love.”
She frowned at his response and spoke again, “Glee club.”
“Nightmare.”
“Okay.” Dr. Harper picked up her pen again and scribbled more notes onto the clipboard, “I'm detecting a lot of negativity.”
Finn snorted in disbelief, “No, really?”
She glared for a few seconds before smoothing her features into a neutral expression, “If you want to feel better Finn, you need to find something to be positive about.”
“Like...” Finn prompted, leaving a gap for her to fill.
“You said Glee club is a nightmare, when surely it should be something you enjoy. What's making the club so unbearable?”
“Coach Sylvester,” Finn answered ominously.
“I... I believe I've heard that name.” She began flipping through the notes she had on hand.
“She's the one who turned in Will,” Finn informed to cut short the search. “She got him fired, took over the club and now she's ruling with an iron fist.”
“She's a demanding leader?” Dr. Harper questioned.
“She's a monster,” Finn declared passionately. “We have Invitationals this Friday and she's totally obsessed with being the best, she's working us to the bone trying to get our performance up to her insane standards.”
“She sounds a little intense but surely it's a good thing that she expects the very best of you.”
“More than one of us is on the edge of a breakdown,” Finn responded. “And she's only going to get worse once she puts our set-list for Sectionals together.”
“You're making this sound like some kind of torture, if it's really so bad why would you stay in the club?”
“The club needs 12 members to compete, we have exactly 12 members. If one of us drops out, everyone else suffers. We're a team and we're in it together.”
“Well surely that's something,” Dr. Harper stated optimistically. “A good team spirit, friends you can rely on. That's something positive you can focus on.”
Finn thought about Matt, Mike and Puck's continued absence from Tuesday practice sessions and how Brittany and Santana refused to acknowledge him outside of the choir room, “Yeah,” He answered with a bitter grimace.
*
Dr. Harper gave Finn a small notepad and instructed him to keep a diary of positive things that occurred over the fortnight before their next session. Finn wrote down that dinner that Sunday night was Chinese takeout because his mom had a date with Burt and then dropped the notepad in his desk drawer and left it there.
Flopping back onto the bed, he briefly considered what he could do since he was alone in the house for the evening, before quickly coming to the conclusion that he was in no mood for anything overly elaborate and so he simply stayed there in bed, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling and letting his mind wander.
It didn't take long for his mind to turn to Will. They'd spoken enough over the past weeks for Finn to know about Will's job as the night guard at the Lima museum; where, Finn was disappointed to learn, things did not come to life at night. He turned his gaze to the dark window and figured that Will was already at work, guarding the uninteresting assortment of art and historical artifacts that counted as Lima's culture. He wondered, with a slight smirk, if there was anything in the Lima museum that was actually worth stealing, which was the thought that sparked the fantasy.
Finn Hudson, world-renowned thief, was breaking into the Lima museum to-
He stopped short and reconsidered, anyone who had stolen from the Louvre was hardly going to show up in Lima, Ohio.
Finn Hudson, first-time thief, was breaking into the Lima museum, since it was probably best to start out somewhere small. He was on the roof, because any decent break-in needed to involve some high-wire work like out of Mission: Impossible. Inside without alerting a single alarm, he began to make his way towards the wing that held the doohickey he'd come to steal when he was spotted by the night guard...
Finn knew the job came with a uniform but had never actually seen it, so he had to design it with his imagination.
It started with a beam of light, a heavy duty flashlight, the kind that ran on D batteries, shining towards the thief, obscuring his view of the approaching guard. The heavy jingle of dozens of keys on a chain and the tap of shiny, polished dress shoes on the tile floor. As the guard approached and stepped more into the light, the thief could begin to make him out. Polyester slacks, a little tight in the places where it mattered, and a matching polyester jacket over a white shirt and tie.
Finn couldn't imagine Will without a tie, Will was naked without a tie. Sometimes when he pictured Will naked, he pictured him with a tie still on. That image got a reaction from Finn's cock and he reached down to rub himself through his pants as he turned his mind back to the fantasy.
A name tag that read 'Will' shining brightly on the guard's breast and as he took the final steps closer, a face, a devastatingly handsome face.
“Stay where you are,” The guard instructed.
The thief held his hands aloft in surrender and appealed to the guard's good nature, “I haven't stolen anything yet, please just let me leave.”
“Why should I?” The guard asked.
In his bedroom Finn unzipped his fly and ventured his hand into his pants, stroking as he imagined stepping closer to the night guard and placing a hand to his crotch to feel the growing hardness there.
“I can make it worth your while,” The thief whispered, voice full of filthy promises, as he massaged the bulge in the guard's pants.
Finn pushed his pants and underwear down past his hips as he pictured himself on his knees in the dimly lit hall of the museum. He licked a stripe across his palm and returned his hand to work at his erection. He sucked on his lower lip, as in his mind he sucked on something else.
The guard keened and gasped and placed a hand uncertainly at the thief's neck, his thumb rubbing encouragingly just behind the thief's ear.
Finn's free hand scratched thin pink lines across his flat stomach, then dipped down to cup his tense balls as his mind was filled with the sounds his lover made close to orgasm.
“Will,” He whined, spurts of semen shooting from the tip of his cock onto his bare abdomen.
For a few moments he lay still, his spent cock receding and the fluid on his belly, and hanging in droplets from his pubic hair, cooling. Each breath was a little longer but there was none of the heaviness of breath that came after strenuous exertion. He felt empty.
He cleaned up, first with Kleenex and then by taking a shower, before he settled back into bed and considered the empty feeling in his chest. The night guard spoke no name as he came, he didn't know the name of the young thief. They were strangers and that fact made the fantasy unsatisfying. Pulling a pillow to his chest, Finn whispered his lover's name and had to depend on his mind to provide the reply.
*
Looking into Dr. Jackson's eyes was still an uncomfortable experience for Will during his second session. The doctor spent the first five minutes after having greeted Will focused on the contents of a file, so he had a lot of time to observe the psychologist without the concern that he would be caught in a piercing gaze.
As the minutes dragged silently on, Will began to feel uncomfortable. He checked his watch a couple of times, aware of the small window of opportunity he would have in managing to answer Finn's scheduled phone call and concerned that his session with the doctor would cause him to miss that chance.
Dr. Jackson broke the silence, “I should tell you William that I have been looking into your past.”
“You have?” Will asked, a little uncomfortable with the concept.
“CCT works on a principle of holism. I must understand every aspect of your life in order to perceive the cause of your actions,” The psychologist explained. “I was interested to learn that you already had a file here at the institute.”
The feeling of discomfort intensified as Will tried to accept the invasion into his privacy the psychologist had made, “That was a long time ago.”
“Holistic theory,” Dr. Jackson repeated. “Your past shapes the person you are in the present. I have read the file but I'm interested to hear your account of events from a modern perspective.”
Will sighed deeply as he turned his thoughts to a part of his life he tried his hardest to ignore at all times, “There were... concerns about me.”
“What do you mean by 'concerns'?” The doctor prompted.
“My home life wasn't great,” Will responded. “But this is Lima, no-one's home life is great,” He asserted defensively.
“What were your problems specifically?”
“My parents weren't getting along. There were arguments, fights... A neighbor got social services involved to make sure I wasn't being affected. That's it really.”
“I understand this isn't easy, William.” The doctor leaned closer, his ice-blue eyes wide with sympathy, “But I need you to tell me more. Be clearer about what happened, what you remember.”
“I just...”Will sighed and hung his head, “No-one's family is perfect and it seemed so unfair that they were focusing on me. My parents weren't worse than any others.”
“Other parents don't burn their house down,” The psychologist pointed out.
“That was one bad decision,” Will defended. “One big fight, one bad day.”
“Did it affect you?”
“I wasn't home when it happened,” Will answered. “So, no big trauma. It was just like we'd moved house, I didn't worry about the why.”
“How were things afterward?”
“If they bothered to keep an eye on me, the answers should be in that file. I started high school, I got good grades and I was popular. No big consequences of my father's adventures in arson,” He summarized. “My parents are good, honest people and I love and respect them as much today as I did when I was 14. So, I don't want to hear you say that this is all their fault somehow.”
“I'm not here to apportion blame,” Dr. Jackson soothed calmly. “I'm only seeking to understand.”
Heavy silence settled over the office again and Will took the opportunity to look at his watch, quickly calculating that he would still be able to arrive home in time for Finn's phone call if the session continued at its current pace.
“Our parents provide a model for us to base our own relationships on,” Dr. Jackson stated, closing the file and setting it aside. “I was interested in the relationship between your parents in how it might connect to your recent divorce.”
“There is no connection,” Will dismissed tumultuously. “My parents have their problems, but they're still married. My divorce was because of problems between myself and my ex-wife, it had nothing to do with a broken model of a working relationship.”
“I didn't mean to imply as much,” The psychologist apologized. “As I said, I'm looking to understand, looking for possible connections. Would you kindly elaborate on the nature of your marriage and the events that led to your divorce.”
Will felt a sudden, strong sense of empathy for the many small European nations that had suffered numerous organized military assaults in their history. “I met Terri when I was 15, after that she was never out of my life. We got married after college, we'd been together so long it just seemed like the thing to do. I loved her and I know she loved me, but that wasn't the sole motivation behind our being together. We started drifting apart, our interests and attitudes changed as time went by, but we both clung to the image of the kids we'd been in High School.”
“So what broke the relationship?”
“She lied,” Will answered darkly. “A big, ugly, prolonged, elaborate lie. She thought that she was pregnant, when she found out she wasn't she decided the best response would be to hide it and adopt the unwanted child of one of my students. She fully planned to let me raise someone's little girl believing she was my own.” He took a moment to breathe, to let the tightness that had built in his throat loosen, “When I found out what she'd done, I realized how much she'd changed, how much things had changed between us. The trust was gone, any remainder of the love I'd felt for her died and I knew then that it was over between us.”
“I'm sorry for the way things worked out,” Dr. Jackson expressed with sympathy. “Long-term relationships rarely come to a comfortable finale.”
“Are you divorced?” Will asked, recognizing a tone in the psychologist's voice that hinted at a story behind the words.
“I've never been married.” He lifted a hand to his hair and pulled at the strands of a skunk patch, the gesture seemed to be performed unconsciously, “But I've had a share of bad break-ups.” He seemed to realize that they'd strayed away from the topic and quickly reasserted himself, “How did you handle yourself following the separation?”
“Badly,” Will summarized with a wry, humorless smile. “There was a colleague I was interested in, Emma. She and I had been flirting even before I broke things off with Terri. It didn't go well. I'd been with Terri half my life, suddenly not having her made me a little crazy and I wasn't sure what I wanted. There were women: one was an old friend, the other I'd only just met. Emma found out and that ruined my chances with her, it took a long time to even get our friendship back. I think the shock of her calling me out made me calm down, I stopped and reconsidered everything.”
“Where does Finn fit into this?” Dr. Jackson questioned.
“He came after,” Will replied firmly. “Finn didn't tell me about his feelings until a short while after Emma shocked me straight, figuratively speaking.”
The psychologist gave a small, amused grin at Will's comment and marked some things down on his clipboard,“I believe that's enough for today. Talking intensely like this can be very emotionally draining so I don't want to over-exert you.”
Will smiled appreciatively and glanced at his watch on the way out, concluding that he would arrive home in time to answer Finn's call.