Finn avoided Kieran during the next two days, hoping he would calm down. It was the 14th, and he was on the third floor staircase. He stood at Kieran’s door. He still wasn’t sure about what he would say. Humoring himself, he checked if the door was locked. Surprisingly, it wasn’t.
Really? Again?
He took a breath and opened the door. As he entered, he said, “You know, you should really lock your door, Kieran.”
He stopped.
Kieran looked up, startled. He had a gun in his hand.
“What are you doing…?”
Kieran looked at the gun in his hand.
“Oh, this… doesn’t work,” he said. “I’m using it for art reference.”
That’s bullshit.
Finn stared at him.
“Really. It’s not even loaded and the safety’s on,” Kieran said, turning the gun to show the empty magazine slot.
I know you’ve tried to kill yourself before, Finn thought.
“I’ll get rid of it, if you want,” Kieran offered.
“Yeah.”
He stood up and slid open the storage closet door, tossing the gun into a pile of props.
“There.”
They were both quiet.
“…what’s up?” Kieran asked.
“I wanted to tell you, I‘m sorry. I had no right barging in here like this while you were out,” Finn apologized.
“Ahh… yeah…” Kieran said, looking at the floor.
“Your paintings are great, though. You’re like… professional-level, you know? You could definitely make a living off of them.”
Kieran looked up at Finn, a bit surprised.
“Eh? Thanks… you don’t think they’re weird?”
“Huh? No,” Finn answered. “They do seem a bit sad, though.”
Kieran didn’t respond.
“…by the way, you left this here?” Kieran mentioned, holding the bag the sketchbook was in.
“Oh, that’s for you,” Finn said.
Kieran looked in the bag and pulled out the sketchbook.
“…how did you know it was my birthday?”
“Liadan said it was in the middle of January. I got the day right?”
“Yeah… thanks, Finn.”
“Hey, that’s the first time you said my name!” Finn said, smiling.
“…yeah.”
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
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