Sleeping seems almost impossible, and as Finn tosses and turns in bed, his mind can’t help but wander.

After a while, Finn throws off his sheets and gets out of his bed, unable to rest like this. He hopes going on a walk will help, though to where he hasn’t decided.

He quickly tosses on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, not looking to get dressed up this early in the morning. He spares a glance at the clock hanging above his couch and flinches internally when he reads the time.

“4:00 am. Hopefully this means all of the drunk assholes are back home already,” he mumbles as he grabs his coat and walks out into the cold night. The lack of sun means there’s no buffer between the cold and the small patches of Finn’s exposed skin. He breathes out and watches as a cloud disperses through the air in front of him.

He begins to walk, one foot in front of the other, letting the illumination of the street lamps lead the way as he pays no attention to where he’s going.

His minder starts to wander yet again, as it tends to do when he’s alone. Tonight is one of the bad nights- he pictures his mother, a traditional Scottish woman who did everything in her power to make sure Finn was the perfect son.

Finn sighs. He supposes he has no choice but to go down this mental road. It’s been a while.

When his parents had divorced, it hadn’t really come as a surprise to him. It helped that living in a split household wasn’t the hardest thing for him; two birthdays, two Christmases- he was practically living the divorced child high-life.

Finn loves America, and had grown up loving it as a child. His dad is American, having lived in the states all his life. He regularly took Finn around the country, showing him everything the US had to offer. He loved the trips, and would always look forward to the weekends he would spend away with his dad.

On the other hand, his mom hated them. She’d hated the trips, Finn’s father- everything that had to do with America at all once she’d gotten divorced. Almost in an act of protest, she’d gotten Finn a sgian dubh, a traditional Scottish knife. It had made him ecstatic, even more so than when he had gotten his first real kilt, and yet-

At the time he’d happy, excited even. He was a 12 year old boy who had been given his own knife, but the caveat soon reared its ugly head only a few years later.

His mom had been so adamant about him moving with her, moving back to Scotland. She’d first proposed the idea when Finn was 10, and he’d brushed it off. But over the years, she had been more persistent. She’d kept Finn from going on trips with his father in order to plan trips to her homeland that had always ended up falling through.

‘This country is poisoning you. I won’t allow it any longer,’ she screamed as Finn packed his bags. His parents had been living in California at the time, but went under their noses to apply to as many engineering and architecture programs he could in New York.

He couldn’t take the berating and the constant back and forth, and he was ready to leave it all behind when he turned 18. He loved his mother, he loved his heritage, sure. But the look on his father’s face when they had seen the Statue of Liberty for the first time would always stick with him.

It had been their last trip together, when he was 15.

Heart attack, the doctor had said. In a matter of moments, Finn had no father.

“Fuck,” Finn’s voice is harsh as he wipes away at the tears crawling their way down his face. He looks up at the road in front of him and recognizes where he is; Nik’s part of town.

He’d gotten so caught up in lamenting about his past that he hadn’t even noticed his body unconsciously leading him towards Nik’s apartment. Nik had told him his address while they were at the club, when Finn had asked how far he lived away; he was surprised his brain had retained the information.

Finn curses again and turns back around; Nik and him were barely acquaintances, Finn would scare him away if he shows up at Nik’s apartment unannounced at this hour. He supposes they are even, knowing where each other lived but- no, it was still weird.

He instead opts to pull out his phone and text Feng, who is, no doubt, up at this ungodly hour on a Saturday night.

Finn: It’s happening again

He watches his phone screen and feels the knot unfurl in his stomach when the three dots pop up on the screen.

Feng: Need to call?

Finn smiles down at the screen; he really didn’t know what he did to deserve Feng’s friendship, but he was insanely grateful to him anyways.

Finn: No, I’ll be okay. Just think I needed to get out of my head. Some human interaction

The next text Feng sends makes Finn laugh and he suddenly feels like himself again.

Feng: What, your hookup walk out on you?

Finn sends back a middle finger emoji, chuckling as he receives a heart in return. He quickly makes his way back towards his house, careful to not let himself get too into his head.

He’s accepted the past- he has. He made his decision and now he’s perfectly happy living with it, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t keep him up at night sometimes. The “what if”s and the “but”s and the longing.

But Nik’s face flashes across his vision and all of a sudden the past doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore. He’s got a bright future now.

********

Nik is awoken by a loud banging ringing through his apartment.

He groans and rolls out of bed, preparing to shoo away the people he guesses are Jehovah’s Witnesses. They seemed oddly persistent, and Nik was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, but-

Nik wasn’t looking for a new faith, he had one already.

Nik opens the door, fully expecting to see two men in white button ups and black slacks, aware he was still in his pajamas. What he saw wasn’t that, however.

“Morning, sunshine,” a man's voice says, his voice unusually loud and chipper. Nik wipes at his eyes and looks out his door, seeing a smiling, fully dressed Finn.

“I- Wha- Huh?” Nik can only stumble over himself as he closes the door part-way and steps behind it, attempting to hide as much of his body as he can. He doesn’t know why he wants to appear put-together for Finn, but he can feel a blush creep up his cheeks as the other man smirks.

“I told you the moving truck was gonna be here today,” Finn gestures a hand towards the inside of Nik’s apartment, and Nik sighs. He opens up the door and invites Finn inside, cringing when he doesn’t take off his shoes.

“Ah- mind taking your shoes off?” Nik swallows as he hears his own voice raise in pitch. “My mother was always very adamant about it. You know, family traditions and all.”

“Oh, of course,” Finn looks embarrassed as he removes his shoes and places them by the door before joining Nik in the living room. “Not really something I’m used to.”

Nik laughs before cutting himself off, finally remembering what Finn had said before. “A moving van?”

Finn nods and gestures with his thumb out one of the front windows. “Moving guys will be here in a few minutes with boxes and a truck. Did you think I was joking?”

“I- Yes!” Nik’s voice is shrill as his mind races. Everything about this is too much, too quickly, and his brain is having a hard time keeping up.

He surprises even himself as he moves into his bedroom and gets dressed, listening to the muffled sounds of Finn welcoming the moving men into his house. He’s silent as he watches strangers pack up what little belongings he owns, stepping in when he’s needed.

There’s only one box he hides from everyone else, sneaking it onto the truck amidst the chaos of loading it. Soon, it feels like his entire life for the past three years is now all loaded and being moved to somewhere he barely knew.

“You excited?” Nik flinches as he hears Finn behind him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh- it’s okay,” Nik swallows. His voice still sounds spacey. “This just... feels like a dream. I feel like the carpet is going to be pulled out from under me any second.”

Finn laughs. “Feng always did call me impulsive. But... I see something in you, I guess. I think you’re going to make it big, and maybe it’s selfish but- I wanna be the one to say I knew you first.”

If Nik’s cheeks weren’t red before, they certainly were now. He brings his gloved hands to his face and holds them there, thankful for the warmth against the bitter cold. “You’re the first person I’ve met in America who’s done just... so much for me. I don’t know how to pay you back.”

Finn lifts one of his arms towards Nik before his eyes go wide, and he drops it back to his side. He shakes his head and walks over to the street, opening the passenger door to a car that’s presumably his.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a wink.

With a deep breath, Nik steps in.