#norn redscale

[isabelasfriendfiction]

Just Talk to Him

Just confess your feelings you didn't even know you had a few hours ago to one of your closest friends who is already taken! You'll feel so good about it! AKA Opal finds out Finch has a crush on Donahue and gets a little too excited about fostering communication in the party. Donahue belongs to @brick-brooke.

{ao3 link}

Finch poked miserably at her dinner, not taking her eyes off the plate before her. Opal had made one of her favorite foods, kebabs, and normally Finch would have been excited and even grateful. Tonight, however, she felt the exact opposite, precisely because she knew why Opal had cooked this particular dish.

Zeus proved to be the saving grace of the evening, talking away like nothing was amiss. But Finch felt fairly certain every other person at the table had picked up on the misery radiating off of her, given the lack of dialogue happening on their parts. And if Finch’s demeanor wasn’t hint enough of something strange going on, Opal’s blatant, eager staring at her would surely tip them off.

Finch refused to meet her gaze. A brittle, distressing concoction of dread, confusion, and anger had settled in Finch’s chest, and it was certain to burst if she faced Opal. Finch did care about her friends enough to not want to cause a totally unpleasant scene at a meal.

Dessert came. Donahue’s favorite. Finch’s teeth clenched. She couldn’t believe Opal was trying to make her do this.

Just a few hours ago, Finch had approached Opal and trusted her with helping sort out her thoughts and feelings, something she’d never done before. But she had come to regret doing so. As soon as Opal settled on the label of “romantic” for how Finch felt about Donahue, she jumped to insisting that Finch confess to him. That night. And didn’t let Finch get a word in edgewise before rushing off to prepare this special dinner.

What am I even supposed to say? “Hey. I’m having weird feelings about you. Deal with it?” The very idea made Finch sick to her stomach. She wasn’t even sure if she believed Opal’s conclusion!

The plates disappearing from Finch’s view brought her back to reality. Opal was clearing the table, pep in her step as she took dishes back to the kitchen. Norn offered to help. Zeus said something about tak and went upstairs with Kanai, of all people. Finch mentally kicked herself, wishing she had joined so she could have an excuse to leave.

Norn leaving with the last of the dishes left just Finch and Donahue in the dining area. Finch slowly, carefully lifted her head to look at him and found his gaze already on her, his expression comprised mostly of confusion but also a notable amount of concern.

The tiny part of Finch that still trusted Opal, that didn’t want to disappoint her, tried to entertain the idea of humoring her. Right away, the alarm bells of her imagination, envisioning every possible way it could go horribly, drowned that out.

Yet Finch still found herself frozen in place, gaze locked with Donahue’s.

Only a second or two had passed before he asked, “Are you okay?”

He’s so nice. Wait. Shit. No. Finch’s heart leapt into her throat, beating wildly—Dammit, stop betraying me, body!—as if it were trying to physically escape, or suffocate her, or both. Seconds felt like hours as she stared into those pretty—No! Fuck!—blue eyes.

Gods fucking damn it, Opal was right.

With the realization a cold, hard stone of despair dropped into Finch’s stomach. And then a very real urge to puke overtook her, and she bolted, not caring how loud her feet slammed against the floorboards as she ascended the stairs.

Once in her room, Finch scaled the ladder to her bed in record time and dove into the blankets, determined to hide away from the world. Practically gasping for breath, she tried to calm herself down, though her mind couldn’t be stopped from grappling with this new truth.

She liked Donahue, and she hated it.

A weight settled between Finch’s shoulder blades; Cricket chirped quietly and shoved his snout by her cheek. Finch rolled over and the little dragon deftly maneuvered to avoid being squashed, settling on her chest and resting his head by her collar bone. Finch petted him gently, sending telepathic gratitude his way. Heartfelt words never came naturally to Finch. The ability to exchange raw emotions, with all nuance intact, directly with another was a relief.

*THUNK THUNK*

Finch tensed at the knock on the door. She nearly yelled a “fuck off” before recognizing that the sound was far too forceful to be Opal. “Who is it?”

“Norn,” came the muffled response.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Finch clambered down from her bed and undid all but one of the locks on the door, the last of which only allowed her to open it a crack.

The triton’s golden eyes pierced right through Finch. It was always difficult for her to keep still under Norn’s intensity no matter the situation, but she managed to put up a fragile impassive facade as she waited for Norn to speak.

“You should talk to him.”

If Norn had said literally anything else, perhaps Finch could have had a chance at maintaining her straight face. As it was, her mouth instantly twisted into a scowl. “So Opal told you everything,” she said flatly, stating rather than asking.

“Yes.” Norn’s brow furrowed ever-so-slightly. “And even aside from Opal’s opinion, I think you need to hash this all out with Donahue.”

“I don’t know why everyone seems to think that,” Finch said through gritted teeth.

“Because you’ll feel better.”

There that phrase was again. Opal had said the same thing. How the hell would ruining her friendship with Donahue make her feel better? “No, I really don’t think I will!” Finch struggled to keep her voice from going up an octave.

Norn tapped a foot. “How about getting this off your chest so you’re not distracted in a fight? Or so the manipulative demon we’re about to hunt doesn’t take advantage of you?”

Finch scoffed. I’m not a fucking idiot. In fact, a fight sounded like the perfect way to refocus and stop fixating on this mess. A plethora of offended retorts came to Finch’s mind, but she held her tongue, settling for a quiet but firm, “That won’t happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Norn clearly wanted to push that angle further, but as their eyes searched Finch’s stubborn face, she could practically see the gears turning in their head. Wisely, they decided to drop it in favor of a different approach: “You trusted Opal enough to talk to her about your feelings. Why don’t you trust her advice?”

Unable to answer right away, Finch made a face as though she had eaten something unpleasant, recalling the sequence of the conversation that led to Opal’s bizarre conclusion. There were plenty of answers to Norn’s question, but Norn almost certainly wouldn’t accept any of them without a long-winded explanation of the entire event, which Finch was not inclined to do there at the doorway. So, naturally, she responded with an even more unsatisfactory answer: “Reasons. I just don’t, okay?”

“Come on.” Frustration leaked into Norn’s voice. “Listen, it’s not just your ass on the line in battle. It’s all of us. I know you don’t want any of us killed.”

Finch’s chest tightened at the insinuation Norn was making. If this kept on, she might burst into flames, which wouldn’t be fun for anyone. “I already said. That. Won’t. Happen.”

“But if you just talk—”

“I can’t— I’m not ready!” Finch snapped, her voice wavering dangerously. She desperately wanted to slam the door in Norn’s face, but they were Finch’s friend, despite everything, and she knew that they at least thought they were helping. This charitable line of thinking formed the single thread keeping that impulse at bay.

Luckily, those words seemed to get through to Norn. They pursed their lips, then sighed. “Fine. I won’t force you if you’re not ready. But promise me you’ll talk to him eventually.”

“Eventually. Sure.” Anything to get Norn to leave her the fuck alone right now.

“Good,” Norn said. The word had barely left their mouth before a hefty clunk punctuated it, courtesy of Finch yanking the door shut. The rudeness surely offended Norn, but hesitation on Finch’s part might have allowed them to continue speaking. All Finch knew was that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—talk about this anymore.

Alone at last, Finch leaned back and sank to the ground. A sob escaped her mouth. Fucking embarrassing, she chided herself, but found herself powerless to stop the tears.

Cricket wasted no time on gliding over to curl around Finch’s neck, his warm body rumbling in an attempt at comfort. She wanted to convey her thanks, but her volatile state of mind made it difficult.

Why is everyone pushing this so hard? Why should I have to confess to someone I know doesn’t reciprocate? Why does this hurt so damn much?

Anger, Finch could handle. Sadness proved much more difficult. Especially when mixed with confusion, hopelessness, and humiliation. Usually, Finch’s brain would simply convert it all into anger, but it wasn’t working this time for some reason. She found it in herself to be immensely irritated at Opal, certainly, but what Finch contended with went far beyond just the events of the evening.

Who was Finch supposed to be angry at for her own stupid feelings? Not Opal. Not Norn. Not even Donahue. As much as Finch wished she could find a way to pin it on him, she knew that would be unfair. She didn’t want to be angry at Donahue. On account of the stupid fucking feelings. The whole thing was appallingly mortifying. Of course, that only left herself to blame.

And she hadn’t even touched the ticking time bomb of how she felt about Kanai and Fix.

Finch buried her face into the crook of her arms resting on her knees in a feeble attempt to muffle the sounds she was making, praying no one passed by outside and heard her. She gave up on trying to suppress the crying, letting all her wretched emotions out.

It felt like hours before Finch ran out of tears, but it must have only been twenty minutes or so. When she lifted her head, her breath still hitching with each inhale, Cricket slid down from her neck to the pocket of space between her legs and chest, licking at the salty residue on her face and eliciting some involuntary ticklish laughs from her.

“Cricket, stop,” Finch breathlessly protested. Cricket obliged Finch’s request, but instead took to pressing his head against her forehead and broadcasting a pleading, restless sentiment. “Okay, fine, we’ll go see what Zeus and Kanai are up to. Once my eyes stop being so puffy.”

Remarkably and unexpectedly, Finch did feel a bit better after having cried. The endless deluge of distressing thoughts didn’t seem to be overwhelming her anymore, at least, having retreated to the back of her mind. Her feelings were her problem, and she would make sure nobody else had to handle them for her. Hopefully nothing like this would ever happen again.