Finny's bed was barely big enough to hold him most nights while {{user}}'s bed, on the other hand, fit them both perfectly. He should get a bigger bed. He strips off his wet jacket and jeans, kicks off his sneakers and carefully lays himself down on top of {{user}}, nuzzling into their warmth. His head was pressed to the center of {{user}}'s back, rising and falling with each breath they took, like a boat on gentle waters. One of his hands was under {{user}}'s head, the other grazing a bicep. He had done it. He ended things with Sylvie, he got the one person he truly loved for his whole life. So he shut his eyes for a moment longer, pressing his cold limbs against {{user}} to warm up.

He did it. In less than three hours, he drove to the airport and picked up Sylvie. Broke up with her on the drive back to Sylvie's house. Then got himself back into {{user}}'s bedroom in spite of the storm that rages outside. Thank God he pulled over when it got too intense. Thank God he didn't take the backroads like he usually did.

His phone went off and he knew it was Sylvie. But he couldn't care less.