Chapter Text
They meet in the summer.
When Finn feels grosser than usual after spending an afternoon battling monsters and exploring the forest. The sun is blazing overhead, there’s monster goo on his arm, and he’s pretty sure his hat has merged with his head from all the sweat. He doesn’t think much about it when he runs into a river in the middle of the forest. He takes off his clothes and jumps in the water, immediately feeling the heat of the summer cool off.
And he doesn’t have to worry about any more monsters emerging from the water, thanks to his new grass-arm-sword. Man, just thinking about that puts him in a good mood. He swims to the riverbank, where he left his backpack, and pulls out his flute.
Without any more thought, he starts playing, letting his fingers do whatever they want, floating in the cool water, and relaxing more and more. What a great day. No monsters, no disasters, not even time constraints.
Maybe he could convince PB and Marcy to go for ice cream later or throw a movie marathon with Jake.
Suddenly, the air shifts. Something heavy settles on him. And when he opens his eyes, he finds a green figure. Leaf hair, dark mask, and big green eyes fixed on him. A girl.
He sinks deeper into the water.
“Hello.”
He offers, not trying to be rude or anything.
“How are you playing like that?”
She asks immediately, her tone even but expectant, no room for evasion. There’s a threat in there, too, but Finn is used to that.
He explains how the grass-hand works, or how he thinks it works. He hasn’t really explored everything it can do yet, but music ability seems to be one of the pros. Not wanting to seem like a liar, he shows her his hand, though the stub is so small he doubts she can see it from the riverbank.
Her eyes widen. She yells, “Let me see that hand!”
And in a second—before Finn can process what’s happening—she’s in the water with him, holding his hand, and studying the small grass stub in the middle of his palm.
Their eyes meet, and Finn cannot help but think about how no one has ever stared at him quite like that.
“You’re what I’ve been looking for.”
Finn is not sure when he started holding his breath or why his heart skips a beat. It could be because he’s naked in the water with a stranger. Most likely, yeah. But anyway, she needs help. Needs his help.
He doesn’t really have anything else to do, after all. Jake is, more than likely, still at the treehouse playing video games. So sure, why not? He’s a hero after all. Helping is what heroes do.
Two weeks later, they kiss.
And even if they part ways after that, he knows it’s not goodbye forever.
They don’t see each other for a while, though. There’s always something going on: a new crisis to contain, a wacko trying to seize the kingdom, a monster looming nearby. That doesn’t mean that Finn doesn’t think of her.
He doesn’t tell Jake, doesn’t tell anyone.
But sometimes, he dreams about her. About playing the flute together, trying to summon the Spirit of the Forest and failing, again and again, until he has to stop and tell her how he truly feels.
In one particular dream, they are fighting side by side. Together, they defeat green bird-like monsters with tiny red eyes. Huntress Wizard shoots some down with her magic arrows, and he slays some with his sword. There’s green, goo-like blood everywhere, but they won’t stop coming. Soon, they are surrounded.
With no escape route, he turns and looks her in the eye. She says something, but he’s not sure what because he cannot stop thinking about the fact that they are going to die, and this is his last chance to say what he wants to say.
So he does it. Right before the flock of birds closes on them, there’s a flash of yellow somewhere.
“I love you, Huntress.”
And whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. That wakes him up. Heart beating fast, arms flailing in the night, Jake telling him to stop eating burritos right before going to bed. This only happens when you eat burritos, Finn!
On Jake’s request, he stops eating burritos at night. Funny enough, the dreams also stop. Which is sad, kind of. In a way he can’t really describe, the days don’t land right.
The forest isn’t that far from the treehouse; he could always visit. Really, he could. It’s not that far away, jeez, just go.
Then, one night, he wakes up face-first on the hard concrete floor of a skateboard rink and teenage chattering.
“Do something!”
Jake pleads to him in a whisper. Finn hasn’t even opened his eyes yet when he feels something wooden jammed into his mouth before he can protest.
“Kids love flute!”
And Jake—seriously. What time even is it?
Whatever.
He starts playing the first tune that comes to mind. He’s half asleep, but his fingers follow the melody effortlessly. So he keeps playing until he starts questioning if he’s really awake or not. Maybe he’s dreaming?
As it turns out, kids hate flute. They like mash-up a bit more, though. Eventually, Finn drops to the floor and goes back to sleep. When he opens his eyes, there’s thunder and a new challenge. It’s a bad idea, a terrible one, but he knows that Jake would rather break his skull falling off the skateboard than admit defeat. He’s cool like that.
Anyway, he gets his hands on some bandages and treats his bruises the best he can before they decide to make their way back to the treehouse.
At that point, he’s wishing for a couple more hours of uninterrupted sleep. His eyes barely stay open as they walk through the forest, barely following Jake’s enthusiastic rambling about spending more time with the pups, maybe taking them on dad-kid adventures. And then, just as he’s letting out one big, satisfying yawn, one note cuts through the air.
One single note that snaps him fully awake. He freezes.
And maybe he’s too tired.
Maybe he’s hearing things.
He stops in his tracks and scans the treetops, the bushes, the weirdly-shaped rocks.
“You okay, dude?”
He’s sure he heard it. Clear as day. And he waits a minute for the rest, listens as attentively as he can. But the forest drowns in different nightly sounds. Frogs croaking, owls hooting, crickets chirping.
“Oh,” Finn says, rubbing his eyes when he notices Jake still staring at him. “I thought I heard something.”
Jake scratches his head and listens too. Then, after a good beat, he shrugs and pats Finn on the back.
“Let’s get you to bed, champ.”
Right.
Maybe he is too tired. Maybe his head is making stuff up; it wouldn’t be the first time. He doesn’t turn around when—again—he hears another familiar note. A familiar pattern. He keeps walking, but it stays with him.
It won’t be the last time they see each other that summer.