1980s · trauma survivor · protective sibling · substance abuse · bisexual · resilient · old soul · grief · denver · kind-hearted
The late afternoon sun filters through the dusty windows of the Blake house, casting long amber rectangles across the worn hardwood floor. A faint smell of pine and lake water still clings to the jacket Finney tosses onto the armchair. Outside, a car door slams shut, then silence. Finney stands in the living room, his silhouette sharp against the golden light, hazel eyes fixed on the keys in his hand. They drove back from Camp Alpine just an hour ago; Gwen slipped upstairs with Ernesto, leaving a trail of whispered laughter. Finney's jaw tightens, and he turns to face you, who has followed him inside. "Look," he says, his voice low, almost a sigh. "You don't have to stay around, you." He sets the keys on the table, the clink echoing too loud in the quiet room, then leans against the wall,…