Page 36 of Meet Cute

There’s always some new excuse with him, but I’m not in any position to call it out. He probably doesn’t even see it as excuses—to him it must be some kind of actual rationalization that explains everything.

Even worse is that I get it, I do. When my whole family was coming at me, everything I said felt real in the moment, even if some of the shit that came out of my mouth was pretty stupid in hindsight.

Finn can’t be a psychopath or something like that. I thought he was, but… he seems genuine. Maybe he isn’t—maybe I’m just dumb. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I miss going outside. I miss doing whatever I wanted. I miss having my own autonomy. I miss the person I thought he was, too.

Against my better judgment I lean forward, hiding my face in the stained white fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do… I-I don’t think you’re bad, Finn…”

Those sickly sweet words seem to do the trick, since he raises his eyebrows and looks down at me with parted lips. “You… You don’t? Really?”

“No.” It’s so easy to say it, but I’m not sure if I mean it. The photos, the legs, the kidnapping… I can’t forgive all that, can I? “You just… It’s intense—I mean… all of this…”

“I’m sorry,” he says while wrapping his arms around me. The hug is painfully tight yet full of emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Duncan. I love you. I love you so much.”

Before I can respond he picks me up off the edge of the bed in a surprising display of strength. My legs dangle uselessly around him, his hands sitting comfortably at the small of my back.

“You’re so handsome,” he mumbles, peering into my soul with half-lidded eyes. “So kind… so patient… I-I’d really do anything for you…” There’s a brief pause. “E-Except let you go. I can’t… I can’t do this. N-Not yet.”

Yet?

“Why?” I can’t stop myself from asking. I need to know why this man is so set on keeping me here even though it only makes him cry.

“You know why,” he sniffles before wiping his face with the back of his hand. I hate how he eyes me as though I just caught him doing something bad.

The worst part is I do. I do know why. He’s already told me so many times what he wants, but how can I possibly do that? How can I fall in love with someone who’s done this to me? Of course I have empathy for him. I feel bad for how unwell he obviously is. But what the hell can I do about that?

Finn sets me back down on the bed, laying me down gently. His hands rest flat by both sides of my head, and he’s sizing me up like he wants to devour me whole. My body is trembling in some horrible cross between horror and excitement.

I know it’s wrong, I know. But I think part of me revels in the fact he wants me so bad. He’s done something so horrible and unthinkable because he loves me, even if his love isn’t typical.

Encouraging it is a bad idea, but what do I have to lose? My family doesn’t want me, my only friend is thousands of miles away, and I’m tired. This might not be love but at least he’s here. At least he wants me in his own fucked up way.

“Can I…?” He asks with a trembling voice, scanning my face with a frantic expression. “Please…?”

No. One simple word that should be leaving my mouth right now. I wordlessly nod instead, watching his every move. When our lips touch it’s nothing short of fire: hot, intense, and not something you should touch. Yet here I am, basking in the flames like an idiot.

Within seconds his tongue is prodding against my own, licking sloppy circles and whimpering. When I open my eyes I expect to see his squeezed shut, but instead they’re wide open and focused on me.

In surprise, I pull myself away only to be met with a whine and that delicate expression. It makes my heart hurt almost as much as my legs do. “W-What? Did I do something wrong? It’s… it’s my first time, and I… I just—”

“You did fine,” I say quickly to avoid another meltdown. “Just… close your eyes. It’s creepy.” The laugh I add at the end doesn’t do much to ease the tension, but he listens anyway.

Gentle. It’s a lot more gentle. His rough hands find their way to my upper back, and Finn presses his husky frame up against my own lean one. Something about this is so wrong. I shouldn’t be getting into it the way that I am—I shouldn’t be enjoying this in any capacity.

When I’m about to fully let loose, his knee brushes up against mine and sends a fiery wave of pain across my body. Jerking away, I cry out in a way that makes me feel stupid.

“W-What?” Finn is off of me immediately, looking at me with a mix of worry and surprise. “Did I do something? What’s wrong, Dunk—Duncan?”

Regret comes rushing in. What the fuck am I doing? Am I an idiot? “My… leg. You bumped my leg. It hurt.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Like a terrified cat he jumps off of me, maintaining his distance at the foot of the bed. “Um… Should I… should I look at it? I should probably clean it again, right? How long has it been? A few days…?”

The fact he doesn’t know scares me. From the moment I woke up in that cold basement, things have been a blur. Three days? Five? Maybe even a whole week has passed, but I wouldn’t know.

Finn squirms when I don’t reply right away. “I’ll clean it. Can I… can I trust you to come back upstairs? You won’t do anything again?”

Nodding, my gaze wanders to the staircase. To the way my heart was racing as I got to the top, before everything just sort of shattered. Are my legs going to heal properly? Aren’t you supposed to go to physical therapy for this sorta thing?

The longer it takes to see a doctor, the worse it will get. Finn carries me up the stairs, but the only thing on my mind is the future. Is there even a future for me? What if my legs rot off my body and I die? Is that a thing?