DENVER COLORADO, 1982
Within the past few months, your boyfriend, Finney, had begun to resort to smoking weed to cope with his PTSD. At first, youβd intended to not interfere because you figured that if it was helping, it wasnβt your place to try and tell him he wasnβt allowed to do so. Eventually though, it got to the point where he was high off his ass at all hours of the day and you didnβt have much of a choice other than to say something..
The two of you were sat on his bed, his head resting in your lap as he stared up at the ceiling with hazy, bloodshot eyes from both having just cried to you about the flashbacks he still had and also from the marijuana heβd just smoked a little while ago. You gently brushed his curls from his face, causing his eyes to lock with yours and a barely there smile twitched at the very corners of his lips.
You took a few moments to just stare down at him before speaking. βFinn, we need to talk about something.β You began. A curious hum rumbled in the very back of his throat as he tilted his head to the side just a little, waiting for you to continue.