Finn's eyes flicked over to his friend, August, as he offered his assistance instead. It was the type of gesture to be expected from a solid guy like him. Knowing how he could be, he was probably trying to save Finn's ass from talking to Opehlia. More interaction meant more pain, which ultimately meant more rant sessions like today. He doubt his friend wanted either, and so, he willingly sacrificed himself to the guillotine.

Naturally, the whole situation evoked a grateful smile from Finn. All hints of pain had thoroughly drained away from his features, leaving behind his old self. His Ophelia-less self. "Push myself?" He laughed and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, asshole. But if you wanna act all macho, go grab the other crate."

With that settled, Finley's gaze averted back onto the girl next to them. He tried to muster up the best straight face he could: furrowed eyebrows, a frown, dull eyes -- the whole thing. But he wouldn't be surprised if a glint of pain snuck its way in.

"Just lead the way, Ophelia."

-
August Gallagher Ophelia Reyes

The blonde's demotivated sighs were met with a solid slap on his back. "Nah dude, don't let that stop you. You'll get in eventually." His words were meant to be encouraging, though, it wouldn't be surprising if he'd taken it poorly. Dealing with people was definitely not Finn's forte and he has received a ton of flack for that already. Life was too black and white in his eyes, so the nuance of emotions was often forgotten in the dust. "And if you don't? I dunno, maybe take up farming? You're a natural."

He flashed Kei a grin before shoveling some food into the pond. The water types were quick to flock to them and feast on the pellets.

With that mission now completed, the two set off towards the final task on the list: moving bundles of tied wool to the storage. The blonde tried to immediately heave one bundle by himself, but was quickly reminded of his own limitations and suggested them to work as a pair. "Sounds good," Finn agreed and positioned himself to the other side of the bundle. He wrapped his arms around it, weaving his beneath kei's, and gave it a strong tug upward.

"Just lead the way, cause I can't see shit from back here."

The solid thump of her palm against his forehead forced Finn awake. But even then, her words were left senseless.

"Ha...?"

Furrowed eyebrows knitted themselves together as he brought his hand to the back of his head. Sure, his twin was the eccentric type...but this? It was a little much, even for her. Still, despite his disbelief, he peered around the corner and followed Gabrielle's pointed finger.

The sight that greeted him was less than cheery. There, below the stairs, was an empty Christmas tree. There were no colorful presents tucked beneath the tree, nor any decorations on its bare branches - a stark contrast to what it had been the night before. "Holy shit," The teen softly cursed. He inched towards the horrific site, bare feet tapping against the wood, and stopped at the head of the staircase. "Who...? What...?" Finn turned to his twin, confusion clear on his face, "Did you just see this?"

Noticing the eevee's intentions, Finley immediately dug his hand into his pocket and fished out a tattered red bandana. "Maybe 30 minutes ago?" He first responded, then knelt down and offered the bandana to Chuchi. Hopefully, with his old accessory, her nose would pick up something.

The man's sudden flashlight caused the teen to blink several times during his impromptu inspection. What was he even looking for? And why did it require giving Finley permanent blindness? After several hard blinks, the teen turned his head away and inched a few steps from the duo.

"So," The teen began, turning back towards them, "Do you--" His question got interrupted by the yip at the same time Andres did. Smiling, he made sure to add a small incentive to the pokemon's hunt: "Go Chuchi go! If you find him, I have some treats with your name on it!"

The creek of the door was all it took for Finn to pop his head over the propped-up hood. There, snuggled between the frame of the door, stood the silhouette of his father. The same father who was always too busy to visit, or give advice, or attend his numerous science fairs.

In spite of all that, zaps of excitement went off throughout the teen's body and a wide bright smile quickly lit his face.

"Oh, hey pops," Finn called out, "What's up?"

Finley dragged his head back up towards his friend. When it came to Ophelia, he would become almost like an abandoned puppy - so full of hope, but so frightened of betrayal.

"...Do you want it to mean something?"

Yes. A Thousand times yes. All he wanted was to turn towards her, smile, and return to their days of walking around the city, talking and laughing about the stupidest shit they could think of. He wanted to lightly knock her on the head whenever she did something naïve and listen to her rave about flowers until 1am on a school night.

This wishful thinking clouded his ears from the ramblings from August. He would nod, maybe offer an "mhm", but would ultimately return to his forbidden thoughts about Ophelia. That is until he felt his friend's grip tighten.

"Yeah, dude, of course." He mustered a half-smile for him, but the internal pangs of regret still ate away at his insides.

The sudden feminine voice nearly shattered whatever was left of him. "..." Finley gritted his teeth. He wasn't ready to see her again -- to hear her again, and yet, here she was! Never late to ruin his day.

A strained smile and a pair of dim eyes turned towards Ophelia. 'Go away' his heart wanted to scream. 'Just take it and leave.'

And yet, despite himself, Finley walked over to the crates and picked one up. "...I don't see how you'd be able to carry this, so just tell me where to go and I'll do it for you."

-
Ophelia Reyes August Gallagher

A lopsided grin lit his face at the girl's initial reaction. Thankfully, she wasn't frightened by the sudden explosion - it would be a real pain if he had to run to the nearest ice cream shop to beg for her forgiveness. 

"Yea, you're right." Finn agreed with a sharp nod. Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes flickered upward, a look of contemplation on his face. "Not sure how'd I safe-ify it, though. Ah, at least it worked for now." Safety wasn't his forte per se-- hell, it wasn't even on his mind half the time. Maybe Kennedy could help, though?

With a shrug, his eyes returned back to the small girl and her cautious companion.

"Finnley, but my friends call me Finn." He grinned back at the girl. "So, Ms. Eris, are off to do anything fun?"
-

skipping

Finley offered a shrug to the other. "I wouldn't call myself lucky. Anyone can do it with some effort."

Lucky, unlucky - it didn't matter. Putting labels onto earned skills only led to envy and a lack of motivation for self-improvement. Or, at least, that's what he learned last year.

The orange-haired teen followed the other down the ladder and towards their next task. Along the way over, his eyes would steal the occasional glimpse of a tractor or harvester, curious of its capabilities and inner structure. Only kee's voice interrupted any further inquires.

"Huh? Oh, that's pretty cool. I'm more into just messing with shit. There's this old crone I help out sometimes - a toy designer - but I'm definitely gonna do more than that. Not really sure yet, though." He smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So, how many badges do you got so far?"

The buzzing chatter of excited volunteers mixed well with the sweet fragrance of freshly baked and packed treats, creating an overall positive environment for everyone involved.

Well, for almost everyone.

"I just mean-- what the hell is she even doing here? Of all places?" The orange runt barked out, sprawling his arms in the air with exaggerated emotion. Ever since coming back from that damned museum last weekend, the teen hasn't been able to shut himself up. From his twin sister gabrielle black to his best friend August Gallagher -- no one in his immediate vicinity has been safe from his woes.

Finley set a crate full of wrapped goodies beside August before bringing his arm across his forehead, wiping the leftover speckles of sweat. "Honestly though... do you--" He threw himself to the left, nearly knocking into the other. "Do you think this might mean something? Like what if...no, I'm just being fucking stupid," He looked away again, his eyebrows bent downward, a frown drooping further downward. "Unless..."

The world came to a hush. The sounds of careless chatter decrescendo into a whisper as only the thumping of his own heart could be heard, loud and clear, hard in his ears like a snare drum.

It was odd how such feelings could make one's outsides feel so cold, yet evoke a blaze of heat from within. Cold sweat beat down his back as he weaved his way through the crowd of clueless background characters. Each occasional bump of the shoulders fuel him further, propelling him closer and closer towards the door-- closer and closer towards the safety of the outside.

"You are not the wrong person, Finley."

The words shattered him faster than her touch.

Resentment, regret, and heartache tugged at his face, contorting his expression into one of sheer anguish. Eyes pointed downward, he fought off every nerve screaming in his body to keep walking forward. To not look back. "What do you want, Ophelia." He trembled.

The pungent smell of rust was heavy in the air, mixing thoroughly with that of oil, both undeniably strong in their own right. Finn's nose had grown numb to it all, though. Through countless days spent wielding away in the garage, these sharp scents had become dull to his senses.

"It's looking...better?" The question came out as a huff. "Ah, maybe I should take it to the shop and see what they think..."

Since Winter Break-- and far before that-- Finn had spent several days like this. Solitary, in the garage, fiddling away. These quiet days sometimes dip into a hint of loneliness. Today was one of those days.

The monstrous snores of the orange-haired twin came to a curt stop as the rattling of the door scared him awake. "Huh?" The questioning sound drooped from his lips like drool, as his eyes blinked awake.

After sloppily wiping his face of all dried up saliva and eye crusties, Finn swung his legs over to the left of the bed, lifting himself up towards the shittily painted door. He swung it open and leaned his still-waking body against the frame.

"What do you mean 'we have a situation'?"

Finley hated reminiscing about Summer. For the last year, every hint of that golden season stung of regret. It's what nudged him towards working on cars, actually. He'd rather be stuck in the garage, cranking away below the shade of rusted parts, than be anywhere near the sun-filled days of a normally blissful summer.

So, to even have such fleeting thoughts of those days... Well, he'd rather leave and quickly distract himself with anything mildly interesting than allow these memories to continue to fester in his head.

But, just as he turned towards the exit, Finn's dim eyes noticed...nothing. There was nothing to notice, as there was nothing notable to see-- that's what he told himself through the torturous scorch of his heart. He had to just focus on leaving and not let a single thought stray any further. Ghosts are just ghost, no matter how real they seem to be.

"Finley?"

Wide eyed, heart in his mouth, the teenage boy stood completely still. His dried lip curled inward as the familiar voice shredded his insides apart, much like parasite feasting on it's host. What is there to say to one's own ghost? Hello? How are you? Can you stop making my heart feel like shit?

Finn settled with the easiest option. "Wrong person."

And he began to walk away.