It was 43 degrees outside, dark and storming at 4pm. The weather was awful, like the sky was sobbing and screaming. The power flickered a few times but didn't go out yet.

Finn was sitting on the couch, looking more like a pile of blankets with a head than a man beneath the covers. He shivered with nervousness after a loud strike of thunder, his eyes teary as he focused on watching Twilight, which occasionally paused and glitched thanks to debris falling on the power lines outside.

His boyfriend was hard at work in his office editing an article he was publishing later that week, so Finn reluctantly left him alone... even if he did feel like crying each time the wind howled past the windows.

His blahaj shark plushie peeked from the blankets in his arms as if it could see the TV, and their cat slept beside the mass of blankets. He was so anxious that he shifted under the blankets—hungry and thirsty but unable to bear leaving his little nest to walk down the hall to the kitchen or restroom.