𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 | tbp.

BEFORE I EVER SPOKE, F.B.

TW // Addiction, Overdose, Trauma.
she/her prns

Y/N was quiet. Quiet but mean, ruthless. Her quiet huffs and ignorant sighs were almost synonymous to riot, playing invincible to sticks and stones yet so sensitive to aggressive blasphemy.

Her words, when they were spoken, hurt like bullets. She had a trigger for a mouth, and she would pull it every single time. That's what intrigued Finney Blake.

The fact she was so closed off, so mysterious, so helpless. He knew she wasn't right. Wasn't okay. And that drew him to her. That made him want to pair with her when their teacher called for lab partners. But her cowardice, her shuffling into the far corner, praying to go unnoticed but failing, turned him away. Made him stop and think, "Maybe not. She's anxious."

His heart nearly stopped when Mrs. Gales made a new seating chart, seating Finney and Y/N in the far corner of the classroom. She was hesitant to walk over to him, but not before Donna's name was called, Gales's pointer finger directing her to sit on the other side of Finney.

No words could describe the anger he felt towards Donna that day. Not because she would give Y/N the side-eye, but because she had made her cry. Donna made the sad one, the quiet one, the one even Vance Hopper couldn't help but pity, shed tears.

"She once told me empty bottles were heavier than when they're full," Donna whispered to Finney, loud enough for Y/N to hear. "She must be referencing her father's copycat addiction, right? I heard when he overdosed he fell quicker than when david shot goliath."

Finney glanced at Y/N's hand and saw a single tear drop fall upon her skin.

He wanted to do unspeakable things to Donna. He wanted to yell, scream, tell her to stop. And he wished he did, because she kept going.

"Someone told me she takes her dad's old prescriptions to feel better about herself. It's a pity, really. But, nonetheless, I would too if I had a father that shitty."

Finney elbowed her and glared, hoping she would take a hint. She clutched her arm and gave him a look that read "Fuck you, it's the truth."

"I don't believe a word of it," Donna's voice was above a whisper now. "Her mother would have said something if he was such a bad, bad man. She's lying about it all."

This was Y/N's breaking point. It was Finney's, too. Yet he couldn't bring himself to shout at her.

"Stop it, Donna." He spoke, firmly. "Enough."

He looked over at Y/N. She was shaking, tears running down her face, an unreadable expression decorating her features. He admired her. Even when she was crying, miserable, she looked pretty.

At the end of class, before Finney even got to make sure she was alright, Y/N rushed out of the classroom, heading for God knows where. Finney felt nothing short of pitiful. He wanted to hold her, rock her back and forth, caress her face and wipe her tears. Place small kisses upon her soft lips.

Donna pranced out, too, looking proud. Proud. Finney fumed, rushing to his locker before he started something. Robin caught him on the way.

"Hey, you see that Y/N chick?" He said. Finney nodded. "Donna was shittalking during class. Said she was lying about her father. Made fun of his addiction. Did you see where she went?" Finney said. Robin's eyes widened at each syllable.

"To the bathrooms," Robin started. He added, "And, don't sweat it. I'll have a chat with Donna."

Finney looked at him warningly. "Don't worry, man. I don'thit girls." Robin reassured.

Finney nodded, starting for the women's restrooms, Y/N being the only thing on his mind.

He found her sitting down in the corner, knees to her chest, dried tears upon her eyes, a lighter in hand. She was staring into the flames, her mind wandering.

"Y/N?" He spoke softly and with care. Her eyes wavered. She let the flame fall and stuffed the lighter back into her pocket.

He walked over to her and sat down. A tear fell from her eye.

"What did I do wrong?" She said wearily. Finn only looked at her. "Why does everybody hate me?"

He said nothing. Only grabbed her hand a squeezed it as if to say "I don't hate you. They do, but I don't."

"It isn't your fault," Finney whispered. "It's not. They hate me, too."

Y/N just barely grinned, looking at him.

Finney knew then, as they made eye contact, he was in love. And he's been in love before it all. Before she ever spoke.