I don't see Finn the next day.

He doesn't join me for a morning walk. I think maybe he wants to sleep in so I leave it be, but when it nears noon, I send him a text. No response. I keep glancing at my phone, hoping for a notification, and am disappointed each time. The day is duller and emptier without Finn. I finish my homework, write in my journal, and plunge down a rabbit hole of funny online videos. Even as I watch them and laugh, my mind wanders back to him and his absence. 

I wonder if he's mad at me. I wonder if I did something wrong last night, and if so, what it was.

My concern multiplies when he doesn't show up to class the next morning. He's never missed a class before, not even when he caught a bad cold in early October. I send him texts during class, then call him afterwards. He doesn't pick up. I swing by the library and the cafe to see if he's in either place, but I don't see his familiar white hair and pale-eyed gaze. Worry nips at my heels as I knock on his dorm room door and call his name, but I hear only silence. 

Finn, are you okay? I text again, chewing on my bottom lip. Please reply. 

No response.

"Beth," I ask when I spot her in the hall later that day, "Have you seen Finn?"

"Not since we went bowling," she says, and my gut plummets. She gazes at me, studying the worried lines on my face. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"He wasn't in class, and he hasn't been responding to my texts or calls. Last I saw him was when we parted Saturday night."

Beth's brow furrows in concern. "Is he sick?" she asks.

"I don't know," I reply miserably, running a hand through my hair in frustration. 

Beth pats me on the shoulder. "Maybe he's not feeling well. I'll let you know if I see him, okay?"

"Okay," I mumble.

Lecture runs at a snail's pace and I miss most of what is said as I keep glancing at the door and at my phone, wishing for some sign of him. My nerves are set on edge and I'm jumpy enough that the guy sitting in front of me turns around and snaps at me for shaking his seat with my knee-bouncing.

I am heading to my next class when my phone pings. It's a text from Beth. Saw Finn at cafe, it reads. Tried to follow but got stuck behind lunch crowd. He's headed towards the dorms.

I take off. I will definitely be late for my other class, but I don't care. If I can catch Finn, it'll be worth missing. My shoes squeak against the waxed floors as I run, apologizing as I nearly bump into several students. I shove open the doors and spot Finn crossing the green, the hood of his sweater up. It looks like he's holding a packaged salad in his hand.

"Finn!" I yell. He halts in his steps, then quickens his pace. I run to catch up, backpack bumping against my shoulders. I call his name again and he slows, then stops. I stumble to a halt beside him and catch the corner of his sleeve. "Finn, where have you —"

He looks at me and I'm caught off guard by his expression. I see then what I couldn't notice at a distance. His hair is in disarray and his jacket looks rumpled, as if he'd slept in it. There are deep shadows under his eyes, which are tinged with red. Usually, his eyes are a clear grey like the silver lining of a cloud, but now they are dulled as wet cement. He looks haggard and worn, as if he's aged five years, and his gaze holds an apathetic quality that freezes me in my tracks. 

"Sean," he says, and his voice is dead, "Leave me alone."

His words sting more than I'd like to admit, but I'm not the one who looks like they'd been rubbed raw by salt. I gather my composure, hoping the hurt doesn't show on my face. "Finn, are you —"

"I'm fine," he says, his voice taking on a steely edge. He speaks in clear, precise tones, but the hand holding the salad trembles. "Please, just go."

I let go of his sleeve. Finn turns and walks away, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. Trailing behind him are black leaves and raven feathers that flutter to the ground and crumble to ash. For the briefest moment, I see him outlined in a long cape and a pale deer-skull mask with long, branching antlers. Finn disappears into the dorm building and the illusion blinks out.

The rest of the day passes in a dazed lull. Finn's weary face swims through my mind as I attend class and try to complete homework. Even now, studying the stucco texture of my dorm room ceiling as the clock ticks towards midnight, I am wondering what to do. He wants me to stay away and I should respect that, but at the same time, I don't want to leave him alone. 

From my experience, I have always appreciated a shoulder to lean on, or someone whom I could confide in freely. Bottling up feelings hurts — all those buried thoughts and emotions fester over time and corrode a soul like acid. 

I think of Finn and his cold voice and the lines around his eyes. I think of the moment when I saw his face covered in a bleached white mask and I remember my dream of the mysterious figure in the snowy landscape. I consider the nightmare creature that has haunted me ever since I arrived at Everwood, with its ghastly grin and haunting eyes. I recall its cryptic answers and its growled promise before the avalanche swept in and crushed me, and my mind strings these events together as I close my eyes.

There is little I can do for Finn if he won't see me and won't talk to me, but there is one thing I know I can do.

I can dream.

~*~

Dust fills my lungs and I cough as the dream solidifies around me.

There is no sand and no snow, no trees and no flowers. The landscape is a barren gray and covered in ash, stretching for miles and miles over the low hills. Soot drifts down in gray flakes, and the dry air parches my throat. A smoldering mountain towers in the distance, smoke spewing from its top and filling the sky with thick black clouds that choke out the sun. Looming over the scene like a titan is the nightmare horse, taller than the mountain beside it, its form lit by bursts of lightning.

The creature takes a slow step that makes the ground quiver. Its form is a shadow obscured by the smoky clouds, and as it lets out a low, throaty chuckle, the stench of brimstone and sulphur fills the air. The creature latches its milky-white gaze on me and its face splits in a devilish grin. It doesn't speak, but the wind blows through carries a chorus of whispers to my ear: I told you so. You should have listened. This is your fault. You're worthless.

I trudge through the ash, squinting against the dust-filled breeze. Maybe I don't know where I'm going, but I know what to look for. I know who to look for.

On the slope of the next hill, a figure sits with their arms wrapped around their knees and their head hung low. Around them is the only small piece of landscape that isn't ash: a patch of thin, black grass. I break into a run — I'd recognize that white hair and green jacket anywhere. He doesn't seem to notice me at all, and I slow down as I approach, studying his profile and the fall of his silver hair.

"Finn?" I ask, his name hanging in the air. Finn's head jerks up, eyes clouded with a storm of emotions that make way for a moment of confusion. 

"Sean? What —" He looks around him and at the dream, disbelief plain on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you." I drink in the sight of him — It is so good to see him again. The dream has melted away the tired lines on his face, so he looks like the young man he is instead of a defeated soul, but his gaze still holds the same world-weary eyes. Finn stares, studying me from toe to head, and his mouth screws up.

"No," he says, shaking his head, "This is a dream. You're not real."

"This is a dream," I agree, setting a hand on my chest, "But I'm here. That's real."

Finn's gaze drops to the ground. "I told you to leave me alone," he whispers.

"Finn," I say, hesitating as I taste the words in my mouth, "I don't think you really want to be alone." He doesn't respond, so I push onward. 

"You said I could talk to you anytime, and that you'd help out in any way you can. I hope you know I'd do the same for you." I swallow, which does nothing for the dryness in my throat. "I want to be a shoulder you can lean on." 

Finn stares at the ground by my feet. I watch Finn. The silence stretches around us until he finally mumbles, "A shoulder, huh?"

"Yeah." Ash clogs my throat as I take in a breath. "Tell me, is this my fault? Are you upset with me?"

"What?" Finn says, caught off guard. "No!"

A weight lifts off of my chest and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd held. "Oh, thank God," I murmur, "I thought I'd done something wrong."

Finn shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault," he says. He studies me for a moment, his grey eyes clear. "You're really something," he mumbles, patting the ground beside him in invitation. I sit down on the dusty black grass beside him, our shoulders an inch apart. 

"I'm sorry to make you worry," Finn sighs, "I'm just dealing with things. Family stuff, finances, grades, all that. I just —" He cuts off and rubs at his temples as if warding off a headache.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, my fingers weaving between the grasses. The blades are cool and gritty beneath my palm. Beside my hand, a stray forget-me-not blooms.

"No," Finn says, "I don't want to even think about it right now." He gazes at the ashen landscape and the churning plumes of smoke. "I'm just — really tired of it all, Sean," he says in a weary voice.

Finn leans against me and sets his head on my shoulder, his soft white hair tickling my cheek. He closes his eyes to relax, but I can tell that the gesture is stiff and uncertain. I put an arm around him and trace small circles on his shoulder with my thumb. My pulse trips to an erratic beat which I'm sure he can hear. 

"I'll give you an answer soon," Finn says, so low I need to block every other sound out, "I just —haven't been able to focus, and I need time to sort through things and — think. Then I'll tell you." Even when he says he doesn't want to think about his problems, I can tell they are still churning at the forefront of his mind. He's always been the sort of person to consider outcomes and to lay out plans before taking action. 

"I can wait," I say. "You focus on you."

Finn lets out a breath. "Okay."

"And — tell me if I can help in any way. Please."

"I will."

The wind whispers in my ear, but all I hear is Finn's quiet breathing. We sit there, shoulder-to-shoulder, hair against cheek, and gaze at the desolate landscape until the dream fades.

~*~

Folks, we are almost at the end!!! The 20k mark is within reach! Stay tuned for the next and last chapter!