Finley "Finn" Murphy

Waking with a small groan, Finn could hear the voices in the living room. The sound of Dora the Explorer fluctuating from muffled mutters to Dora’s voice reverberating through the walls as she yelled for Boots. Banging indicated a bedroom door being slammed and the overly perky voice melted away closely followed by Joel’s gruff voice rising louder. Likely reprimanding his daughter for trying to wake the rest of the block before sociable hours. Whoever was up with Floss, usually had to hide the remote to save her acting as unofficial wake up call for their neighbours.

With a second groan, Finn rolled from his back to his front. Pulling his pillow to act as a feathered barrier from the light spilling in the edges of his curtains on an unnaturally bright morning. He’d had a shit night’s sleep. And for a change it wasn’t the PTSD to blame, no nightmares waking him with a ghost pain in his stomach. Instead his own thoughts have been the enemy. Echoes of the conversation he had had with Joel the night previous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected it to come up… had hoped it would be quick into the arrangement originally. But then he’d gotten used to having his best friend present all the time. Plus with the exception of DNA, he was as much Floss’ second parent as anyone could be. She even called him “Pop” for heaven’s sake.

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