I Don't Have Much In Life But Take It - It's Yours.

That 'Forever' had just slipped out my lips, in a moment when my guard was down a little, lowered by that beautiful sight of Fynn sprawled naked in my bed. There was a slight panic when that word was uttered, and I wondered what Fynn's reaction would be.
He's half asleep though, and just smiles dizzily, snaking his arms round my waist so I fall next to him. He crawls into my lap and my arms wind round him. I kiss his hair and within a second he's fast asleep.

I guess we couldn't really get any better, I don't care if Fynny's not perfect, thats why I love him. I love the way he's insecure about himself, I love the way he bites his lip anxiously when he thinks I'm not looking. I love that confidence he gets when we kiss, as if he's a different person.

I look down at him fast asleep, knowing I'm not tired, yet unwilling to leave him. I start humming under my breath and tapping my foot a little to the song in my head and realise sooner or later I'll wake Fynny up. I run my hands through his hair a few times, making sure he's fast asleep, which he is, then gently slip out his arms. I stand next to the bed and look down at him, smiling. He smiles a little in his sleep, just one that tilts the corners of his mouth up a little.

I run my hands through my own hair, realising there's sweat clinging to my skin. I grab my clothes from the floor, the ones we'd discarded before, and head for the bathroom. I shower quickly, so as to not wake Fynn up, and it must work, since when I've gotten out, and dressed, I slip through the little hallway and poke my head through the door. Fynn's fast asleep, the covers just reaching his hips, his hand resting beneath his head, breathing soft and even.

I smile, and creep over so I'm standing next to him. I crouch next to the bed, so I'm level with Fynn, and just watch him. I'd meant that forever, even if I was a little scared when I said it, I know I'd meant it. Yet some of me is wondering whether I will love Fynny forever, what if we change? What if things change, the world changes, and it just doesn't work. I think I'd still love Fynny if it suddenly didn't work, I just wouldn't let myself think that, maybe it would be easier.

I see his eyes flicker behind their lids and he smiles a little broader, I realise he's dreaming. I get lost in his face, the way his features are so peaceful when he sleeps, so void of emotion and those faces he pulls, yet still emotional, there's still a peaceful happiness. My stomach suddenly rumbles, loudly, and I jump up, scared I'll wake Fynny up. I realise I haven't eaten all day, which is a usual Jay thing, so I slip out the room and onto the landing.

There's no high pitched chatter or R&B music coming from down the hallway so I guess my sister's out, which is good. I clatter down the stairs and into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe a little. I pull open the cupboards, finding there's nothing remotely microwave-able or instant meal, and sigh. I check in my pockets, and the neon green wallet, seeing I've got no money after spending it on clothes for Fynny so take out's out of the question.

I pull open the fridge and hope there's something in there we can eat. I chew my lip and something stirs in my memory, when my mum tried to teach me how to cook, how to make this potato omelette thing that I used to love when I was little.

I stand there and scrunch my face up for a minute, trying to remember the recipe. When I think I've figured it out I pull three eggs and a few potatoes from the fridge, kicking it shut again. I dump everything on the counter, somehow managing to catch an egg that was trying to make a break for freedom off the edge. I chew my lip again, hovering in the middle of the kitchen, trying to remember where the fuck we keep the peelers.

I laugh at myself a little, at how little I know, and one of the few things I know is that this is going to be a disaster. I end up pulling open random drawers when the location of the peeler doesn't come to mind, until I find one, neatly placed, as if this is more a show kitchen than an actual living space.

I end up juggling potatoes, trying to peel them, cutting my fingers and hands so there's red spots on the potato when I eventually peel it. I dump them all back on the counter, all red and spotty as if they've got some sort of potato disease and glare at them. I roll back my imaginary sleeves, grab a knife from the block and scrunch my eyes at them.

"You're going down potatoes," I murmur. I grab one of them and slam the knife into it, not really chopping it, more shredding it into bits. I do that with all of them, only realising my fingers are bleeding even more when I reach up to brush the hair from my face and see red fingers.

I push the potatoes to the side and glare at the eggs. I realise I dont know where the fuck the frying pans are kept in the this house, and tear apart the kitchen until I find one, stacked neatly, in the cupboard I was standing up against. I pull it open and place it on the hob, bending over to squint at the little unfathomable drawings next to all these switches.

The hair falls back over my eyes so I hold it back and stare at the arrows and switches, poking random ones until a flame springs from the ring under the frying pan, almost burning my hair. I jump up, and yelp, half in worry and half in victory.

I find a bowl with little effort, knowing where they are, since I use them a hell of a lot more than peelers or frying pans, and pick up one of the eggs. I slam it down on the edge of the bowl, a little too hard, so it cracks and flies everywhere, egg runs down my arms and onto the counter.

I dither there helplessly for a bit, and dump that one in the bin, retrieving another from the fridge. I eventually crack all three into the bowl, and spend five or ten minutes fishing all the bits of shell from it. I mix them up a bit, struggling to remember what Mum told me to do ten years ago. I realise I've left the cooker on underneath the frying pan a little too late, since when I pick it up it's scorching hot and burns my fingers. I drop it and yelp, sucking my fingers for a bit. I pour the eggs and potatoes in and they sizzle madly, making me jump a little.

I stand there watching it, until I see it browning a little round the edge, and remember I need to turn it over... or something. I hunt around until I find a wooden spatula spoon thing, and when I turn back to the... thing in the frying pan I swear it's black all over. I pull a face and hurry over, but when I poke the spatula at it, it sizzles and a flame springs from the burnt mass.

Oh great, now it's on fire?

I whine a little, turning the cooker off, but it's still smoking insanely. A loud bleep makes me jump and yell, and I soon realise it's the smoke alarm. I whine again and pull a face, looking round for the alarm. I pull open the door that leads to our stupidly huge back garden, hoping some of the smoke will get out there.

The smoke alarms still bleeping loudly, so I clamber onto the counter, not knowing what else to do, and pull off the plastic casing, tearing out the batteries. I breathe a sigh of relief when it finally shuts up, and hop down from the counter.

When I turn I see Fynn stood in the doorway, rubbing his face confusedly, looking round with a small smile, "What the fuck Jay?" He says softly, his voice a little rough from sleeping.

I smile and wander over to the cooker, where the burnt, smoky mass of... thing still sits. I point to it, careful not to touch it this time, "I tried to cook," I say sheepishly, looking round, smiling, and laughing at myself, "Kinda didn't work though..."

He shrugs and comes up to me, wrapping his arms round me so I stumble forward into the baggy black material of his Atreyu shirt. I bend my head so I can brush my lips against his cheek, dragging them down to connect with his jaw.

"Since I was too tired before," He mumbles into my chest, his hands sliding under my shirt to rest on my stomach, "Before was fucking amazing Jay-jay," I smile against his cheek and press my lips to it again.

Fynn's eyes dodge to the side, and he laughs a little at the mess on the cooker. He glances up at me and bites his lip. He reaches up and laughs, wiping my cheek a little, "Egg on your face," He murmurs, so I can feel his breath on my lips.

I lean down and connect my lips with his. Fynn immediately moves closer and his arms tighten around my torso. I run my hands up and down his sides and his gasps a little. My stomach rumbles again and I blush, reluctantly pulling away from Fynny's lips.

"I guess we need food..." I say softly, resting my forehead on Fynn's, transfixed by his eyes again.

"Mhmm," He looks around a little, "How about ice cream?" I nod vigorously, a little reluctant to leave Fynn's embrace though. Fynn smiles, knocking his lips against mine for a second before pulling away. He picks up the bowl I used to mix the eggs and all the other crap I messed up, dumping them all into the sink whilst I dig in the freezer for my favourite triple chocolate ice cream.

I find two spoons from a drawer and hand on to Fynn, hopping up onto the counter. Fynn hops up next to me, sitting right next to me, leaning his head on my shoulder. I pull off the lid to the ice cream and Fynn takes a spoon from my hands, digging it into the tub. I smile at him and watch him as he tries the ice cream, screwing his face up when the cold hits his teeth.

He sees me watching him and freezes, pulling puppy dog eyes at me, and we end up having a little staring match. Fynn's so intent on winning our little match that he doesn't see me digging my finger into the ice cream, and bringing it between us, dabbing it on his nose. Fynn's jaw falls open and I laugh a little, glancing down.

"Got ice cream on your nose," I murmur and Fynn says nothing, pulling puppy dog eyes at me so I have to try so hard not to crumble, "Lemme get that," I say softly, leaning forward and trying to lick it off his nose. He tries to jerk back but my hand's on the back of his neck. I manage to lick off the ice cream and press a quick kiss to his cute nose. Fynn giggles a little and I go to lick his nose again but his fingers wrap round my wrists and it soon turns into a little wrestling match on the kitchen counter.

Fynn somehow ends up straddling me, with my wrists pinned on the counter, "Aha, payback now Jay-jay!" He leans down and licks my face and I start laughing uncontrollably. But that's only to hide the fact I'm insanely turned on. I move a little so Fynn starts kissing me instead.

I hear the front door slam and we both jump, "Jacob! Chelsea! I'm home!" I pull a face and push Fynn and I up so we're sitting. I slide out from under his legs and hop off the counter, tapping Fynn's legs so he does the same.

"In the kitchen.." I call, "Dad.." A few seconds later my father appears in the doorway, his face set in stone as soon as he sees Fynn.

"Hello Jacob," He says sternly.

"It's Jay," I say tiredly, "And Hi Dad,"

"Who's this Jacob?" He asks, adjusting his hideous patterned tie, his cold eyes flickering over Fynn, giving him such a dirty look that I actually want to hit my father.

"This is Fynn, he's my friend," I say, gulping a little, wishing I could hold Fynn's hand as I feel him tense next to me.

"Friend?" He spits, giving Fynn and I another glare, "What have I told you about bringing your... friends to our house?"

I run my hands through my hair desperately, not wanting Fynn to hear this. I turn to him, and his wonderful blue eyes are flickering between Dad and I, "Fynn, just wait upstairs?"

Fynn twists his shirt thought his fingers nervous, starts chewing his lip again, and takes a tiny step forward, "Stay right there!" My dad yells and Fynn jumps, moving right back so his back's pressed against the counter.

"Dad, he doesn't have to hear this," I say, clenching my fists round my hair.

"Neither of you are going anywhere, especially not when I know what you get up to Jacob,"

"For fuck's sake Dad!" I yell, clenching my fists even more so it hurts my scalp, "Fynn's not like that! He's a friend, okay?" I glance at Fynn and sadness is streaked through his face, "He's more than a friend,"

"Oh, of course Jacob, they're all more than friends aren't they? They're all just a little more, just never enough? Is that why there's so many of them? You think maybe if you get to a hundred or something you won't be as fucked up?"

It's about then that I snap, when Fynn looks up at the scene through his hair, "He's not just a mindless fuck!" I reach out and grab Fynn's hand, making him jump a little, "God! I'm not just some whore you know! I have feelings!"

I run past him, pulling Fynn with me, and running up the stairs. Dad follows us, but stops at the steps, above chasing his son up the stairs yelling at the top of his voice, so he just yells from the foot of the stairs, "Get back here Jacob!" There's a pause and I pull us into my bedroom, "Fine! You won't hear a word out of me! This'll be a house of silence!"

I ignore him and slam the door shut. I drop Fynn's hand and storm over to the desk, wiping all the clutter from it onto the floor. I yell in frustration and clench my fists in my hair again. I lash out with my foot, so it makes a dent in the plasterboard and yell again. I storm over to the bed, swearing under my breath, lashing out at the bedpost even though it hurts my foot a little. I fall onto the bed and scream into my pillow, so angry that I can't even vent it.

That doesn't stop me from trying. I get up off the bed and start pacing backwards and forwards, slamming my feet down on the carpet below, hoping I'll piss off whoever's in the room below, because if I'm pissed off, I'll make sure everyone else is. I stop abruptly and slam my fist into the wall with another yell, more pissed off I can't vent my anger.

I lean my head and fists against the wall, swearing under my breath, chest heaving with emotion. I clench my eyes shut, ridding the tears pooling in them, "Jay?" I hear a quiet shaking voice from behind me.

I whirl round, forgetting it's Fynn, "What!?" I yell and he whimpers, shrinking back against the wall. His beautiful eyes are wide and his shoulders are shaking a little. My sense comes back to me and I hurry over. He flinches a little when I reach for him, scared, and I wince, "Fynny, I'm so sorry,"

He whimpers, and hesitates a little before moving forward and falling into my arms. I run my hands through his hair and repeat that I'm sorry, over and over, hoping he'll believe me.

"You scared me Jay," He whimpers into my shirt and I clutch him tighter, repeating that I'm sorry louder and faster. He nods slightly against me and I kiss the top of his head.

I lead us to the bed and we climb on, Fynn still locked in my embrace. He leans his head on my chest, his breath ticklish through my shirt, "I'll make it up to you," I murmur against his ear, my hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

Fynn shakes his head just a little, his hand touching mine to stop it, "Can't we just... cuddle?" I nod and wrap my arms round him tighter.

Way to go Jay.