In the Key of Fear

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the living room. Finnley sat on the couch, his hands curled tightly around a mug of coffee, the warmth of the liquid doing little to chase away the cold weight that still pressed down on his chest. Last night lingered like an unwanted echo—Illaria’s words, Arlo’s presence, all of it weighing heavily in the back of his mind. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, his thoughts tangled in a mess of self-doubt and the fear of what was to come.

The house felt quieter today, emptier, though he knew it wasn’t. Hayven and Willow were upstairs, probably having their usual morning debate over something trivial or planning their day with their typical energy. It wasn’t unusual for them to be wrapped up in their own worlds, but today, Finnley couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed space. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but last night had made him feel even more exposed than usual. The lingering concern in Illaria’s eyes, the way Arlo had stayed calm despite it all—it felt like they saw too much, like they understood him in a way he wasn’t ready to be understood.

He heard footsteps descending the stairs, and Hayven’s voice reached him before she even appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, you’re up early," she said, her tone light, but there was a glimmer of something in her eyes that made Finnley feel like she could see through him. It was always like that with Hayven—she was perceptive, sometimes too much for her own good.

Willow followed behind her, her hair still damp from a shower, a sleepy frown on her face. “I thought we had an agreement—no getting up before ten on weekends.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her gaze flicking to the empty space beside Finnley on the couch. “What’s going on? You’re awfully quiet this morning.”

Finnley hesitated. He didn’t want to get into it—not yet, anyway. He hadn’t talked to them about last night, hadn’t told them what he’d been going through. But somehow, sitting here, he felt like he needed to. Maybe it was because they were the closest thing to family he had left, the only ones who might understand him without all the layers of fear and doubt that clung to him.

“I’m fine,” Finnley said, his voice flat. He brought the mug to his lips, tasting the bitterness of the coffee but not caring. It was just a distraction, something to hold on to while he figured out how to get through the next few hours.

Hayven raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure about that?” Her eyes narrowed, as if she could read the turmoil in his expression. “I mean, we don’t mind talking, you know. What’s on your mind?”

Finnley felt a knot form in his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down and explain everything to them—not yet. Not when he was still processing it all. But the truth was, he needed to talk. The silence had been suffocating him ever since last night.

“I don’t know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “Last night... it was a lot. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for too long, like everything just crashed into me all at once.”

Willow gave him a soft, understanding smile, though her usual joking demeanor was gone. “What happened, Finn? You don’t have to tell us everything, but... well, we’re here if you need us.”

Finnley set the mug down on the table, rubbing his face with his hands. “I just... I feel like I’ve been pushing everyone away lately. And then last night... it just made it all worse. I thought I was doing okay, but I don’t know anymore.” He looked up at them, his eyes tired and strained. “Where were you guys? You weren’t around much last night. I could’ve used you.”

Hayven exchanged a glance with Willow, who shifted uncomfortably. Hayven sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. “We were here, you know. But we didn’t want to intrude, Finn. We figured you needed space.”

Willow added quietly, “We didn’t want to make anything worse. If you needed us, we were around, but we didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready to talk.”

Finnley closed his eyes, a sense of frustration bubbling up. “I needed more than just space, though. I needed you to be there. To talk to me, to not leave me alone when I was already struggling.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “But you were just... gone.”

Hayven’s expression softened. She moved to sit beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Finn, it’s not that we don’t care. We just didn’t know what to do. We see how you push us away, and sometimes we don’t know how to get through. We thought... maybe we should wait for you to come to us.”

Willow stepped forward then, her face serious. “We’re not perfect, Finn. We mess up too. But you have to talk to us when it gets this bad. We can’t fix it if you shut us out.”

Finnley was quiet for a long time, the words settling heavily in the room. He hadn’t meant to snap at them, but the pain from last night was still fresh, and he didn’t know how to explain that to them without pushing them further away. But he couldn’t keep it all bottled up, either. He had to try.

“I’ll try,” he said, the words sounding weak even to his own ears. “I just... I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes.”

Hayven gave a soft laugh, her fingers brushing through his hair as she ruffled it. “You’re human, Finn. We all have our stuff. Don’t make it sound like you’re the only one with problems.”

Willow smiled a little. “Exactly. And we’re not going anywhere. You don’t have to fix everything by yourself.”

Finnley nodded, though he wasn’t sure he entirely believed them. The truth was, part of him wanted to retreat again, to shut them out and hide. But he couldn’t keep running. He couldn’t keep pretending like he had everything under control when he clearly didn’t.

He stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to head out for a bit. I need some time to think. Alone.” His voice was firmer now, the edge of hurt still there but masked by determination.

Hayven and Willow exchanged glances, but they didn’t argue. They knew him well enough by now to understand that when Finnley needed space, he needed it. They just hoped that, one day, he’d let them in enough to make a difference.

As Finnley grabbed his jacket and stepped outside, he felt the weight of the air press down on him. The streets were quiet, the city still waking up, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself to feel the weight of everything that had happened. The brokenness, the fear, the hurt—all of it was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but for now, it was just him. Just Finnley, alone in the quiet.

He didn’t have the answers, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. But he had to try, didn’t he? He had to find a way to separate himself from the pain. Maybe, just maybe, being alone for a while would help him figure out how to get rid of it.

But even as he walked away from everything—his sisters, his home, the people who cared about him—he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t quite as alone as he thought.

He tried to keep his head clear as he made his way to the park, his place of comfort in times where his head was too much.

•~✮✩✮~•

The park was quieter than usual that afternoon, the early spring air crisp but not yet biting. Finnley found himself walking along the gravel path, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his mind still swirling from everything that had happened. The park had always been a place for solitude, a place where he could escape from the noise of his life and just think. But today, it was more than just a place for quiet. It was a place for space, a place where he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him, anyone trying to pull him into conversations or ask about his emotional state.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone—not yet, at least. He didn’t want to face his sisters, his lingering fears, or the rawness of everything from the night before. But he couldn’t shake the restlessness that had gripped him, the sense that something had to change, even if he didn’t know how. So, the park it was. It was small, tucked away from the bustle of the town, but it still had its charm. Old trees lined the walkways, their branches heavy with the promise of leaves to come, and a small pond glistened in the distance.

Finnley’s steps slowed as he neared the pond, the peaceful sound of birds chirping filling the air. He found a bench nearby and dropped down onto it, the cold wood seeping through his jacket. He stared at the water, letting his thoughts drift. For a moment, he felt some of the tension in his chest ease, as though the park had the power to swallow his worries for just a little while.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until they were almost right behind him. The voice that broke the silence was unfamiliar, low, and calm.

“Mind if I sit?”

Finnley glanced up, startled. A boy about his age stood there, a slight smile on his face, eyes crinkling with a mix of curiosity and warmth. He wore a faded hoodie and a pair of jeans, his dark hair messy in that way that looked effortlessly cool. His eyes were a washed out green, almost gray, and there was something unassuming about his presence. Finnley hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say. He wasn’t used to random people striking up conversations, but there was no tension in the air, no sign of pressure. Just a boy looking for a place to sit.

“Uh, sure,” Finnley said, shifting on the bench to make room. The boy nodded gratefully and sat down next to him, pulling his hood further over his head as he gazed out at the pond.

They were silent for a few moments, the quiet hum of the park settling around them. Finnley could feel the unfamiliarity of the situation, but there was something calming about it. Something different from the usual awkwardness he felt with strangers.

“I come here sometimes,” the boy said, breaking the silence with a casual ease that made Finnley blink. “When I need to clear my head.”

Finnley glanced over at him, noticing the relaxed way he spoke. "Yeah, me too," he muttered, looking back out at the water. The boy turned his head, studying Finnley for a moment, and then gave a small, understanding nod.

“Not much to do here. But I guess that’s the point.”

Finnley chuckled quietly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it’s nice to just… not think about everything for a while.” He paused, feeling awkward but not wanting to end the conversation just yet. “I’m Finnley, by the way.”

The boy turned to face him fully then, offering a small grin. “Everett.”

“Nice to meet you, Everett.”

They sat in quiet companionship for a while, watching the water ripple gently in the breeze, the world moving slowly around them. It was strange, Finnley thought, how easy it felt to just sit next to someone and not feel like he had to explain himself. There was no pressure to open up, no expectation. It wasn’t like the way he’d felt with Silas, or even with Illaria and Arlo, where everything was always just a little too heavy. Everett seemed content just being there, existing in the same space without needing anything from him.

Eventually, Everett spoke again. “So, what brings you to the park today? You don’t exactly look like the type to just hang out here.”

Finnley shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins. He wasn’t sure how to explain why he’d come here. Not without sounding like a mess, not without revealing how much of a wreck he felt.

“Just needed to get away,” Finnley said simply. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Life’s been a little... overwhelming lately.”

Everett nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “I get that. I’ve had my fair share of those days.”

Finnley didn’t expect Everett to ask more—he didn’t seem the type to press—but for some reason, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it usually did when strangers didn’t take the hint to stop talking. It just felt… normal, in a way.

Finnley spoke again after a pause. “It’s like you just want to hide from everything, but it never really goes away.”

Everett’s eyes softened, and he let out a small sigh. “Yeah, sometimes it feels like you’re carrying a weight you can’t put down. Like everything is pushing on you, and there’s no way to escape it.”

There was something in his voice, a kind of quiet understanding that Finnley hadn’t expected. Maybe it was just the way Everett didn’t seem to need anything from him, didn’t expect him to open up. It felt different—safer, almost.

“I guess we all deal with that kind of stuff,” Finnley muttered, staring at his feet, unsure why the conversation was suddenly taking a deeper turn. He wasn’t used to this. Not with strangers. He didn’t know if he should feel good about it or if it was something he needed to avoid.

“Yeah,” Everett said, his voice gentle. “We all have our baggage. Doesn’t make us bad people.”

Finnley nodded, not sure how to respond. There was something about Everett, something easygoing and patient, that made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t so broken. It didn’t fix anything, but it felt like a relief to just sit in silence with someone who didn’t expect him to be fixed.

For a long time, they just sat there. Finnley wasn’t sure what to make of it, or even what he was supposed to do next. Everett wasn’t pressuring him for anything. There was no tension, no hint of something more. It was just a quiet, unexpected connection.

Finally, Finnley stood up, his legs stiff from sitting too long. “Well, I should probably head back home,” he said, his voice a little uncertain, as though he was already questioning the decision.

Everett stood as well, brushing the dirt off his hoodie with a casual movement. “Yeah, me too. I’ll see you around, Finnley?”

Finnley hesitated, the weight of his thoughts pulling him back. His mind raced, as it always did when something felt new. What did it mean to talk to someone like this? Was this just a random encounter, or was he setting himself up for something—something that would inevitably go wrong?

“Yeah,” Finnley said, the words feeling almost too heavy, too much. He offered a smile, but it was more of a reflex than anything genuine. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Everett’s presence. It was just that... he didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know how to handle anything.

As he turned to walk away, his eyes flicked briefly back to Everett. The boy had a relaxed sort of vibe, and for a split second, Finnley noticed how... well, how attractive he was. It was a fleeting thought, almost a distraction. But it lingered just enough to make Finnley uncomfortable—what was that? Why was he even thinking about that now?

He shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and tried to shake the thought off, but it clung to him anyway.

The walk home felt longer than it should’ve, his mind spinning. It wasn’t that he hated the encounter, but everything felt off-kilter. What was the point of even talking to someone like that? What if he messed it up? What if he was just asking for more disappointment, more hurt down the road? Finnley was used to isolating himself, to shutting out anything that threatened to break through his walls. He wasn’t ready to face the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he could open up to someone again.

And then there was Everett. What was that even? A random meeting, a fleeting connection, nothing more. He tried to ignore the way his stomach turned when he thought about Everett’s smile, or the way he made Finnley feel almost... comfortable. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Finnley wasn’t comfortable. He never was.

The more he thought about it, the more the doubt crept in. Maybe this was just a moment of distraction, nothing more than that. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. But then, why couldn’t he shake the thought of Everett? Why did he still feel like there was something unfinished, something unresolved about the whole thing?

By the time he reached home, Finnley had worked himself into a tight knot of confusion, second-guessing every part of the interaction. Was it a mistake? He couldn’t even trust himself to figure it out.

He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for anything. So, maybe it was better to just forget it. Maybe it was just one more thing he didn’t need to let into his life.

But even as he tried to convince himself of that, something deep inside wondered if he might be lying to himself again. He just didn’t know anymore.

•~✮✩✮~•

Everett didn’t want to be home. Not today. Not when his mind felt like it was constantly buzzing with everything he couldn’t control. His parents keep asking him what he’s going to do for school, and his friends wouldn’t stop pestering him about his love life, or lack thereof. As if it was any of their business. He hated the way they nudged him whenever a conversation about relationships came up, always talking about who they thought he’d end up with, who he should be with. He wasn’t ready for that kind of pressure, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he was supposed to feel when they kept pushing him to talk about it.

So, instead of dealing with that mess, he’d decided to get out. The park was the perfect place to disappear for a while—quiet, calming, a place to just be. There was no one to bother him there. No expectations, no questions.

The sun was still shining when he walked into the park, the early spring air cool but refreshing. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, watching the trees sway slightly in the breeze, and just tried to breathe. He didn’t know what exactly he was looking for, but he didn’t feel like he needed to know. It was just one of those moments when escaping everything was the only thing that made sense.

As he walked along the path near the pond, he spotted a bench with someone already sitting on it. It wasn’t crowded in the park, so it wasn’t hard to tell the guy was alone. He was sitting a little hunched over, his knees drawn up to his chest, staring at the water like it could answer the questions running through his head. Everett almost kept walking. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but something about the way the guy was sitting—almost like he was trying to disappear—made Everett stop. He found himself wondering if the guy needed someone to talk to, or maybe just someone to sit with.

It wasn’t like Everett didn’t appreciate being alone. He came to the park for that reason. But there was something about the way the guy seemed to be hiding from the world that made him want to break through that silence, to maybe give him the same thing he was looking for—an escape.

"Mind if I sit?" Everett asked, his voice almost too casual, hoping he wouldn’t make the guy uncomfortable.

When the guy glanced up, their eyes locked for just a moment, and Everett felt something in his chest tighten. The guy had these pale blue-gray eyes that caught the light in a way that made them seem deeper than they probably were. It was disorienting, the way they stared back at him like they were seeing through him, like he was the one who had been caught off guard. His hair was a little messy, brown curls falling around his face in a way that seemed effortless but still perfectly put together. And then there were the freckles—so many of them across his nose, cheeks, and arms, like a constellation map Everett might study if he was feeling bored on a sleepless night.

He immediately averted his gaze, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, but not before his brain latched onto the thought—he's really pretty. Everett couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just the way the guy looked—it was the way he carried himself, like someone who was quietly, intentionally hiding. And, for some reason, that made him feel like he should give him space. It wasn’t that he wanted to push too hard, but the connection—however fleeting—felt like something he didn’t want to ruin.

"Uh, sure," the guy muttered, his voice soft, almost as if he were surprised that Everett had even asked. It made him wonder if the guy was used to being left alone.

Everett sat down beside him, his heart still pounding a little faster than it should. He didn’t know why he was so aware of this guy. He couldn’t take his mind off him. Every small movement, every detail about him seemed to stand out more than it should. When the boys knee brushed Everett’s, it sent an unexpected jolt through him, like a spark of static that he couldn’t shake.

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Everett took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts, but he couldn’t stop glancing over at him. The guy was wrapped up in himself, staring at the pond, the world completely unfocused. There was something about the way he was so still, so lost in his own thoughts, that made him even more intriguing. Everett had never been good at reading people, but this guy… he was a puzzle.

“So,” Everett started, unable to resist breaking the silence. “I come here sometimes. When I need to clear my head.”

The pretty boy glanced over at him for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Everett felt the need to say something, anything, just to keep the conversation going, but he didn’t want to come across as weird or overly eager. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous around this guy—it was just a random guy in the park, right? But Finnley’s quiet energy seemed to pull at something inside him, something he couldn’t quite explain.

“Not much to do here. But i guess that’s the point.” He heard the boy chuckle slightly and honest to god, Everett thought it was the best sound he’s ever heard. He wanted to make him laugh again. Desperately.

“Yeah, it’s nice to just… not think about everything for a while.” There was a pause while Everett waited with a bated breath to see if the pretty boy said anything else.

“I’m Finnley, by the way.” Everett felt his heart stutter and tried to calm himself and feign casualness as he turned towards him and gave him a small grin.

“Everett.”

“Nice to meet you, Everett.”

“So, what brings you to the park today? You don’t exactly look like the type to just hang out here.” Everett’s voice sounded too loud in the quiet, but Finnley didn’t seem to mind.

Finnley shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.

“Just needed to get away,” Finnley said simply. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Life’s been a little... overwhelming lately.”

Everett nodded slowly, his fingers tapping against his knee. He didn’t know what to say to that—he didn’t want to push too hard. But it was obvious Finnley was struggling with something. The way he’d avoided looking up for too long, the way he was almost pulling inward—Everett wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

There was something else in the air now, something electric but subtle. Finnley wasn’t looking at him the way he had been when they first made eye contact, but Everett kept stealing glances at him. His mind kept running circles around everything—the freckles, the curls, the soft curve of his lips. And Finnley’s glasses—they framed his face in a way that made everything sharper, like they highlighted the best parts of him. Everett thought about how, when he looked closely, the freckles on Finnley’s face almost looked like a starry sky, like the constellations he loved so much.

And for a split second, just a fleeting moment, he wondered if it would be weird to ask about them, to say something about how beautiful they were. But the thought flitted away just as quickly as it came.

Finnley shifted on the bench, and Everett was instantly aware of the way their legs were almost touching, like they were both unsure whether they should move closer or not. Everett’s mind raced with the uncertainty of it all. What did it mean? What did he mean? Was Finnley someone he was supposed to get to know, or just another fleeting moment, a guy in the park who would be gone once they left? Everett didn’t know. He was still thinking about the way Finnley looked when their eyes first met, how pretty he’d seemed. He couldn’t deny that thought—couldn’t stop it from spinning in his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

“Everything’s... overwhelming sometimes,” Finnley muttered, his voice trailing off like he wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Everett could relate to that more than he wanted to admit.

“I get that,” Everett said quietly. “We all have our days, I guess.”

The silence between them deepened, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just two people, sitting beside each other, both lost in their own heads. Finnley stood up to leave first, and Everett couldn’t help but notice how graceful he moved, the way his hair fell into his face, the way the light caught in his blue-gray eyes.

“Well I should probably get back home.” Finnley said, offering a small smile, a little too unsure but kind nonetheless.

“Yeah me too,” Everett replied, nodding. “I’ll see you around, Finnley?”

“Yeah, i’ll see you around.”

As Finnley walked away, Everett stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the path. He didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know what any of it meant, really. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t stop thinking about Finnley. The way he looked, the way he carried himself, the way he made Everett feel.

But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing. Even if he wasn’t ready to figure it out yet.