Page 51 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

I want to say something to him, something important and meaningful to make him wake up. To tell him he’s loved, that I… I…

I want to spill out my truths: that I was there when he kissed Danny, that I know what happened in the room where I sleep, that I understand the raw pain he wears like a badge.

That I know, in the same way I do, that Finlay aches desperately for Rory.

That Rory’s used him for his own needs, again and again, while offering him nothing in return.

Finlay’s troubled and mixed-up and miserable, and he needs someone to listen to him.

So when the shepherd’s pie is cooked, I scoop two helpings onto separate plates and place one in front of Finlay. He looks surprised when the plate slides beneath his nose.

“Sassenach… I’ve already eaten some tonight,” he says, as his stomach emits an almighty growl.

“Define ‘some’,” I respond archly. “Because there was still more in the dish than out of it. And since you’re barely eating the oatcakes, I’m starting to wonder if you even ate any of the pie.”

Finlay sighs, clamping a hand over his stomach. “No,” he admits quietly. “Tae be honest, I just made it for you. It’s one o’ my favorites. Comfort food, y’know.”

I swallow back the wave of sadness that hits me. I’ve never seen Finlay so broken before, and my anger at the world for doing this to him is swift and severe.

“Is there a reason you made comfort food tonight?”

He rolls his eyes. “Whit are you, my mother?”

“From all accounts, your mother isn’t exactly someone to aspire to.”

Finlay is silent, shifting his fork around the plate and pushing around the mashed potatoes. After a moment, he heaves a long, defeated sigh and carefully lifts the fork to his mouth, chewing slowly as though remembering how, each individual bite of food a personal victory for his body.

The pie smells delicious and I have to restrain myself from wolfing it down in one go. It seems I have the opposite problem than Finlay, happy to take and take to nourish my soul.

“God, two vegans,” Finlay mutters, twirling his fork absently. “As if oor politics werenae contentious enough, we also had tae be fuckin’ vegan. Some people must really fuckin’ hate us.”

I laugh. Whatever. Let people hate.

We eat together in silence, though I wait for Finlay to speak more. He says nothing at all, but him eating is a win for me, so I don’t push the issue.

When we’re just about finished, Captain Porthos suddenly bolts himself awake. He yaps excitedly, heralding the presence of at least one of his masters, and trots over to the door. I tense, hoping to God it isn’t Oscar Munro.

But it’s Rory, and he watches me and Finlay together. He brushes Captain Porthos’s snout as he leans in for head-pats, then says, his eyes never moving from us, “It’s a full moon. Want to cheer up this place? I have an idea.”

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