Stressed Finnley is not best Finnley

Finnley poked his head of the red velvet curtain and was greeted with a sight that horrified him. There was hundreds of people, looking as though they were prepared to eat him alive with sharp, malicious teeth. He felt his heart start to race. Knees weak, his palms were sweaty. He tried to catch his breath but he couldn’t. Was he dying? He couldn’t be dying; he’s been really healthy lately. But there was that cold lately. He felt his throat become scratchy and dry. He coughed. And coughed. And coughed. Yep, he was dying. He can’t perform, he has to go to the hospital. His mind was spiralling. He was running, not even bothering to pick up his stuff or put on his jacket despite it being the middle of December.

Was what he was doing selfish? Yes.

Does he feel bad for walking out of the biggest performance the band had ever performed? Yes.

Would they all be mad at him and potentially never forgive him? Yeah.

Would Xander probably leave him because he’s an awful person who ruins things for other people? Yes.

Will he die alone? Yes.

Oh no, he was spiralling again. His knees gave way and he slid down the frame of the door. He was sat with his knees held against his chest and was trying not to cry. He was trying so desperately not to cry. It was then that he heard someone call his name. Or at least, he thought it was his name. but what if it wasn’t? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if it wasn’t his name? Responding to someone else’s name would make his look egotistical or a huge idiot. Finnley wasn’t willing to let himself be made a fool of so he decided to ignore the voice.

He was just sitting here, knees pressed against his chest, trying to even out his breathing. He knew he was being irrational. They had to be on stage in half an hour and he wouldn’t be much use as a guitarist if he can’t stop his hands from shaking. Did he even have a use in the first place? Finnley didn’t seem to think so. It was then that he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Babe?” Xander spoke gently, voice barely above a whisper. Finnley took one look into Xander’s mismatched eyes and broke down, violent sobs shaking his body. The American boy simply enveloped the smaller boy in his arms, an action so simple yet means so much to Finnley.

“If you’re not ready to do live gigs yet, we can cancel.” Xander whispered when the freakled boy sobs had turned to nothing more than sniffles.

“But it means so much to you and the others.” Finnley choked out in response. Xander said nothing, he did really want this performance but he knew that Finnley’s wellbeing is more important.

“It means a lot to me, too.” Finnley filled the silence.

“So, does that mean you’re gonna do it?” Xander asked, allowing the hopeful tone to infect his usually cheerful voice.

“I’m gonna try.” Finnley said, going to pick up his guitar but stopped mid-action.

“Can we just sit here for a few more minutes?” He whispered, unsure of his own question.

“Of course we can.” The taller boy placed a gently kiss to his boyfriend, an action that the latter finds grounding. Finnley could feel himself become more and more calm from just being in this simple embrace.

“Thank you, I love you.” Finnley whispered into the comfortable silence.

“I love you too, Finn. And you don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, I just don’t want you to forget how much I appreciate you helping me with my bullshit.”

“I will always help you with your bullshit.” A comfortable silence washed over the two teens, soft chuckles sometimes breaking this silence. They stayed in their own world until they heard one of the backstage crew giving them their 5 minute warning. Xander placed one final peck on his boyfriend’s freckled lips before the two boys went to get their guitars

“Where have you been?” Ingrid asked, sending the glare towards the two.

“Sorry, it’s my fault. I got stressed.” Finnley replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.”

“Let’s go, guys.” Sylvester called, grabbing his drum sticks and ushers the others onto the stage.

The audience was larger than what Finnley had saw but he didn’t care. He looked around the stage and saw the happiness of his friends. This is where Finnley belonged. On stage. With his friends.

For a short moment, he didn’t think. He wasn’t concentrating on the huge audience that was watching him. Or over-thinking the notes that he was playing. He was just enjoying the rush of exhilaration he got from performing with the people he cares about the most. That was until he played a wrong note.

Oh no.

Did people hear?

People must have heard that.

Has Finnley ruined it for everyone?

He probably had.

How are people not freaking out over this like Finnley is?

Oh no. His hands are shaking again. He needs to get himself together. He cant ruin this for everyone else. This means so much to them. Just keep playing. Just keep going. He felt the same soft hand from before gently tap his shoulder, shaking him from his panicked thoughts. Oh, the set is over.

“Are you good? You look kinda shaky.” Xander asked, worry infecting his voice.

“Yeah, I just freaked myself out.” Finnley sighed slightly, relief washing over him.

“You did really good. You’re such an amazing guitarist.” Finnley blushed at this, pulling the taller boy down into a tight embrace.

“You’re such an amazing musician. I love you so much.” Finnley whispered.

“I love you, too.” Xander whispered.

“Hey lovebirds, you gotta clear out for the next band!” the backstage crew called, ushering in the next band.

“This was good. I’m glad I did it. Thank you for talking me into it.”

“Anytime.”