Finn carefully balanced the hamper on his hip as he entered his room again, organizing his clothes back into tidy stacks in the dresser. In the near complete silence of the motel, he could hear music from next door loud and clear. He still felt bad listening in like this, even more so now that he knew it was Waylen next door, but the walls were only so thick.
Waylen kept playing, plucking at the strings of his guitar. He didn't sing still, just bent over the guitar, fingers lightly caressing the strings. His guitar was the closest thing, maybe, that he had to a friend or family. His siblings didn't count; Hannah only barely kept in contact with him.
He didn’t listen much longer, figuring that Waylen deserved a sort of privacy in his self-expression. He slipped in his earbuds and picked a random podcast to listen to while he finished sorting his clothes. He vaguely hoped in the back of his mind that the man next door was finally figuring some things out.
(timeskip?)
Maybe this was so bad because he hadn't been doing his therapy sessions; he'd forgotten, not wanting to just call his therapist and talk to her. It didn't matter, though. It didn't. He was fine. "I’m sure it’s very fun for you to never have anyone that genuinely cares about you.". He swallowed faintly.
(sounds good! did you have something in mind?)
(uhhhh not really, sorry! Just,,,, more shenanigans, somehow, idk. I gotta go though, I'll respond again sometime tomorrow)
(no worries! goodnight- i’ll brainstorm something up ^^)
(Goodnight! Alright! If you haven't come up with anything by morning, I might have come up with something overnight haha)