#he's trying to make things right ;w;/ but he also totally understands if Leo DOESN'T accept it!

[howthesleeplesswander]

To be honest, Finn had no idea how Leo was going to take this whole 'making amends for the past' thing.

It's not like the pair of them had ever been in this situation before. The Finn that Leo knew would never have apologized for anything, least of all when it was most deserved.

Finn watched as Leo's restless energy took on a whole new form as soon as he got sappy. He saw those jitters amp up to the next degree, saw how Leo couldn't look him in the eye, but he kept powering through. What began as a noble endeavor quickly morphed into something selfish: apologizing to someone who didn't want it, ignoring the poor kid's discomfort in a desperate chase after some kind of atonement—if not from Leo, then at least from himself.

No, Leo didn't accept the apology with graciousness or thanks. Finn couldn't blame him. All at once he seemed even more lost than he'd been in their olden days, uncertain and reserved like Finn had never seen. Watching Leo shrink into himself made his heart ache. Ironic that Finn's attempts to be a good person were the cause; it seemed this reunion was letting them both see new sides of each other.

"The way I acted...it was never personal." Which wasn't an excuse, nor was it a reason for Leo to not take it personally, because how could he not? He'd never deserved any of the hostility and cruelty that the old-Finn dished out. "I met plenty of folks on the road to gettin' my act together, and I treated every one of 'em the same way. I hated everybody," he said again, sighing deep before adding, "—myself most of all. And I made it eeeverybody's problem." Finn's mouth twisted with the bitter truth of those words. Even now he hated who he'd been back then, and moments like this were exactly why.

Back then he hadn't cared who he hurt; how kind or undeserving they were. He'd just wanted everyone to hurt just as much as he had been.

"Heh, yeahhh, nothin'll kick ya' right in the teeth like people goin' and changin' on you." Deciding to spare the kid a bit, Finn gazed up at where the firelight cast erratic patterns on the ceiling. "If it makes ya' feel any better, I am still kinda that guy. I'm still the same, just-barely-scrapin'-by street warrior you knew back then...just without the perma-scowl and bad temper." He paused a moment, considering, then huffed a fleeting laugh. "I do still have the knife, too, so if ya' think about it, I'm basically just 'Knife Guy 2.0.'"

But his mirth was short-lived. Finn's expression softened despite still keeping his eyes averted. "But hey, just 'cause I've changed don't mean you have to. You can still move on, if that's what you want. I ain't holdin' you hostage, ya' know; you can leave whenever you want. Hell, you can hate me if you want. How you feel is how you feel. I just never woulda forgave myself if I hadn't tried."

“Listen, Leo” was basically the verbal cue for Leo to not listen and bolt immediately.

And, oh, he felt it. As if he wasn’t already wriggling about like he had ants in his pants (by the way: would not recommend, especially if they’re fire ants), Finn taking on an uncharacteristically soft tone that had to be as painfully earnest as Leo had ever heard him made it nearly impossible to not visibly squirm. He also had to pause before saying anything, like that one “Listen, Leo” wasn’t already blaring alarms in Leo’s head louder than the police who’d chased them so frequently back in the day. . . . Finn dropped those two words, then figured making Leo wait for more was the greatest idea of mankind, and in those few moments where the guy was taking a breath—

Guilty as charged: Leo’s attention definitely darted to the door as if he could make a hasty escape before anything else came.

Of course, spoiler alert, the escape was never accomplished. (For some reason, when Finn was involved, it never was. Heck if Leo ever figured out why, considering the numerous chances he got both then and now.) And so, as the dude had the gall to just pour his heart out like they were on Dr. Phil, Leo had no choice (presumably) than to sit there and take it. (So what if he almost snorted at that thought and how applicable it was to so many other things between them . . . ?)

Finn just talked. And talked. And talked. Maybe he deserved some sort of award for it: both the heartfelt confessions, and his ability to somehow render Leo silent for long enough to get it all out. Though Leo listened, sure as Hephaestus had to be one of the most awkward gods to exist (Thank you for your winning qualities, Dad!), Leo could just as surely not hold eye contact. Finn was making a point to, good for him, but somewhere along the line, and due in part to his feeling like those aforementioned fire ants were crawling up and down his legs, Leo looked down, shuffled in his seat with the stupidest nerves.

Because it was stupid, right? C’mon . . . Finn wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He swallowed what had to be the biggest lump to ever form in his throat, uneasy fingers tugging at the cuffs of his pant legs while he heard the guy out. By the time Finn finally reached an end—which Leo only determined by a silence lasting a bit longer than just “Wait, I’m collecting my thoughts”—Leo assumed it was his turn to say something. He hated that, weirdly. He hated when it was his turn to talk on a subject like this. Give him literally anything else.

But he managed a broken scoff, pinched expression matching it beautifully. “Man, there must be something horribly wrong with you,” he grumbled, but the funniest thing here was that Leo couldn’t be sure if he was talking to Finn or himself. “You can’t just . . . do that, okay? That’s not fair.” Leo yanked a string off his pants, set it up in the quickest flash of fire. “I had, like, a whole vision of you in my head, right? ‘Knife Guy.’ The guy who didn’t take anyone’s shit, who knew his way around the streets, who taught me a few of those tricks . . . ” He hunched his shoulders, feeling a new flood of warmth in his face that he swiftly shook out. “The guy who hated me.”

Leo faced Finn critically. “And that was fine. I mean, I’d accepted it, y’know? That was all just, ‘Haha wow what a crazy past I had! Moving on!’ But then I come across you again, and this . . . ? This is how you are, now?” He glared down at the soup, as if that was the most offensive thing here. “How in the world am I supposed to feel about you? It was easy when I could just . . . ” His knees tucked up to his chest, and Leo blew out a heavy exhale. “I dunno.” Seriously, how dare you suddenly be a decent person.