#chose this one because she tells an abridged verison to toby

[tellwolves]

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened (june!)

memories, like the corners of my mind.

she doesn't like football. it makes her scratch her head, how americans decided to make the game so synonymous with thanksgiving. greta didn't seem too interested in it, either. a few years ago, they would've done something with each other to entertain themselves.

nowadays, she's not so sure greta wants anything to do with her.

" psst. junebug. "

she looks over her shoulder. uncle finn's dressed up like he's leaving -- his scarf, his gloves, his nice brown coat. so soon? a sharp, longing pang shoots through her chest. every time he leaves, every time she leaves him, she feels that they haven't spent an adequate amount of time together. " are you leaving? "

he shakes his head, muttering, " oh, no, no, no. i'm not. "

that makes her feel better. but, the question remains. " why are you dressed up like you are? "

he inches closer, and puts his arm over her shoulders. he pulls her close, and she instinctively curls into his side. she doesn't feel embarrassed. it's just them, no one will tell her eleven's too old for that.

" i was thinking me and you could blow this popsicle stand. " he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, towards the living room, towards dad and grandpa complaining about the ref.

she nods. " yeah. i'd like that. "

she puts on her shoes, then her scarf and gloves and her woolen jacket. she lets him situate the toboggan on her head, careful to not snag her ears with his rings when he slips it over them.

right hand on the doorknob, his finger goes to his lips. she mirrors the gesture. it feels like a breakout. it's nice to have fun little secrets with someone again.

they walk into the woods. with the trees surrounding them, the sounds of a newborn night, the silence that only comes with snow, it feels like a whole different time. that's why she likes them so much. everything modern melts away. they could've walked into a portal and not known it. she looks for a robin. maybe the secret garden is near.

they stop, and finn says he's going to build them a fire. she didn't know he could do that, but doesn't tell him so. she picks up three sticks that look good enough for kindling. finn's thank you, darling, you're a natural woodsy owl makes her feel warmer than any fire ever could. after a couple minutes, there's a fire in front of them. her uncle finn could do anything.

" you ever think about what the cavemen thought when they did that for the first time? " finn asks, brushing snow off a log he'd dragged over for them to sit on.

she sits down beside him, smiling, a giggle bubbling up her throat. she hadn't. " i bet they went crazy. "

they huddle together, her underneath his arm. she closes her eyes. she can smell his cologne, and her house, and, faintly, his apartment. lavender and orange. she finds herself staring at the fire more than talking with him. she supposes that's just as well: he's not being very talkative, either.

it's nice to just be held.

he gives her a tiny shake. " i'm going to teach you something. "

she looks up, but doesn't move. " yeah? "

" you know mozart, don't you? "

" yeah. duh. you play him all the time. "

his smile can be heard in his voice. " my apologies, young lady. " then, continuing: " there's a song in the record i play all the time. "

she sniffles, and sits up. " requiem, right? "

" just the one. you're a smart cookie, crocodile. well, one of the songs, or rather, one of the parts, it's called lacrimosa. "

lacrimosa. it's a pretty word. she likes it. she repeats it a few times to herself.

" it's latin for 'weeping'. crying. the state of being tearful. "

she loved to hear uncle finn talk. he sounded so -- educated. sounded like new york city. she wanted to be like him.

" this song and others like it are sung in the instance of someone dying. morbidly enough, " finn reaches and fixes her scarf, tucks some hair back into the toboggan, preening her like a proud bird would his chick, " mozart died before he could finish composing it. "

she shivers. she's not sure if it's the chill or the thought of a famous man writing about death, only to die with his work incomplete. she stays her silence, slightly bobbing her head to will finn on.

he leans in a little closer, drops his voice to an even quieter whisper. " do you want to know how it goes? "

her mouth opens, closes. she nods. he sings it through, his voice a little haunting in the stillness, especially since he's singing about death and crying and sorrow. he teaches her what each line means, translating it into english.

she sings it. they both do. over and over again in their small, quiet, wobbly voices, careful not to disturb any creatures that might be around. by the end of it, she knew it by heart. dona eis requiem. dona eis requiem

" we ought to start heading back. " he stands, and she mourns the moment coming to an end. she doesn't want it to end. " they'll be wondering where we are. " there's a pause as he puts out the fire. " i want to stay here forever. in the forest. with you. i never want to go back to the city again. "

her eyes grow wide. uncle finn, not living in the city? no, impossible. that's not right. that's a square peg in a round hole.

his smile seems a little sad. " i know i couldn't. " he opens his arm, the same one she's been under, inviting her to walk underneath it as they head back. she feels reassured, but still wonders if finn had meant to say that out loud. if that had slipped out on accident, and she was never supposed to know about it.

they follow their tracks home. turns out, they weren't far from home, at all. so much for the illusion.

" there you two are, " mom says as they reenter the kitchen, their cheeks red from the cold. one fist goes onto her hip. her smile is toothless, but entirely geniune. mom must be thinking that they're two peas in a pod. " saved you some pumpkin pie. there's two pieces in there with your names on it. some cool whip, too. "

" thanks a bunch, old woman, " finn says, teasing her with his nickname for her. mom feigns severity, looking like the school secretary, and goes back into the living room.

as she's leaving, finn says to her: " c'mon. i'll let you have this piece. it's bigger. "

when he's certain mom's gone, finn winks. she, more clumsily, winks back. their secret. they won't tell anybody where they were.

#chose this one because she tells an abridged verison to toby #and then later on tells him she made it up :( ..........so. #we never know! we never know if it was real or not #june. #finn. #danni. #verse one. #answered. #hungryyheart