Page 24 of Yours on the Canvas

I get it, I really do; people care about him. But caring doesn’t mean crowding.

And, I swear to God, if one more person shows up with a casserole, I’m going to start throwing them back out the door like Frisbee’s.

Jack pretends he hates the fuss. He rolls his eyes; he complains, muttering under his breath. But I see the way he softens when people talk to him, and I see the way he looks almost surprised when someone says they’re glad that he’s okay.

He won’t admit it, but I know he likes being wanted, and I also know he doesn’t know what to do with that.

Me? I would kill for a bit of peace.

I long for the day where there’s an hour where it’s only him and me and the sound of him breathing without pain. Just an hour where I’m not watching him pretend he’s fine, and where I can talk to him without someone barging in, or Hale launching himself onto the bed like a missile.

I watch as Hale heads out of the kitchen, and no doubt heading back to Jack when I hear the front door slam open with a sharp, familiar thud.

I sigh because there is only one person who enters my house like he owns the place.

Footsteps barrel down the hall, too fast, too confident and too full of chaos to belong to any of the locals.

I sigh into my coffee. “Here we go,” I mutter.

Before I can even set my mug down, the new King of Chaos walks into the kitchen, and I don’t even get a “Welcome back,” out, before Finn speaks, anger in his tone.

“Where is he?”

I motion towards the lounge, “He’s with Haze.”

Finn nods once, sharp and purposeful. “Good. We’re about to have a little chat.”

“Be nice, Finn.” I warned him, my tone firm.

Finn pauses mid-stride, turns his head just enough to look at me, one eyebrow raised as if I’ve personally offended him.

“Silas,” he says, voice dripping with mock innocence, “I’m always nice.”

Deck snorts behind him, earning him a slap on the chest.

“I mean it Finn.” I warn again.

I know my warning falls on deaf ears as Finn looks at me, his expression changing to anger, “I’m done being nice. I know exactly what that fucker has been doing, and it stops today.” Finns’ voice is sharp enough to cut glass.

He turns, reaches up, and kisses Deck on the cheek, “I’ll be right back, Lumberjack,” he says, already moving.

Deck huffs a quiet laugh, but his eyes track Finn like he’s ready to intervene if necessary. Finn leaves the kitchen with that determined laser-focused stride he gets when he’s about to bulldoze someone emotionally.

I call after him again, “Finn.”

“Silas, I am being nice.” He calls over his shoulder. “This is me being nice.”

Deck snorts again and I glare at him.

“What?” he shrugs, “I’m engaged to chaos; what did you expect.” He walks to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Rook, he was worried. I told him we didn’t have to come back early, but he wasn’t having it. He wanted to get back to Jack, and make sure he is okay.”

“I know, but he’s gotta be careful with Jack, right now. Jacks fragile, and he still hasn’t told me everything.”

I have that mix of dread, resigned acceptance and a little confusion over this whole situation, and I’m just about to talk to Deck when I hear;

“Finn!”

“What the actual fuck, Jack!”