Chapter Text
In times of stress, one's bed can be a place of great solace. It can provide an escape from reality, a reprise much needed when both the world and the mind resolve to make a day as difficult as possible. The soft blankets can feel like a plush shield, not just protecting from the sharp air, but providing an escape from the trials and traumas of the past day or month or lifetime. One's head may sink into a pillow, feeling it soak up every awful feeling in their head and turning them into wonderful dreams brewed in the most creative part of the imagination. For once, one may feel comforted, one may feel at home.
Finn does not. In fact, if you read him the prior passage, he would not agree with a single word of it. When he struggles to sleep, his bed starts to feel much more like a prison than anything dreamy like that; it's not an escape from reality, it's an anchor to it! Turning to his left, he feels the fibers of his pajamas harsh on his skin, the heat cooking him slowly and steadily. So he turns to his right instead, climbing out of his sleeping bag and lying on top of it. Naturally, he now finds that he's too cold, unable to find a position that's comfortable in the slightest. After a few minutes of this, he climbs back into the bag, finding now that his pillow is too flat and that he is, once again, too hot. This cycle continues for a while, with him only getting more and more awake with each repetition. The longer he lies there, the more his thoughts start to run, racing only with the pace of his heart and pushing uncertainty through his body.
It's miserable. He's miserable. These bouts of sleepless restlessness have been occurring on and off for weeks now. He knows exactly why, too, which almost make it that much worse. He hasn't felt the same since encountering, well, himself. That other version of himself, that is. Even now it's difficult for him to wrap his head around what happened: that boy wasn't him, but he wasn't someone else, either. He was a different version of himself, one born out of entirely different circumstances. The disconnect between them was tangible, regardless of how similar they may have been at their core. That Finn was different from himself, he went mad with the power of the crown and hurt everyone he loved, even if his intentions were good. That's not him, he knows better than to mess with stuff like that. But did Prismo not say that they were one of the same at one point? That after his wish—that stupid wish he can't even remember—he became that other version of himself for some time? It does seem he may have that same sense of benign curiosity and ignorance at his core.
He can't help but be fascinated by that boy. From the quick glimpse he caught, his life seemed so much simpler there, at least before the crown took over his mind. There was no magic before that, as far as he's aware, nothing that even slightly resembled his own reality. It seemed as though that version of himself had his own quaint life put together for a while. It's a life that he, logically, must have lived too, assuming Prismo and Jake are right about them being one some point. While he can't actually remember it in the slightest, some strange sort of jealously does remain, one he hates and wishes he never felt; seeing that boys family—his family—even just for that moment changed everything. It planted a seed of jealousy that has long since grown through to his brain, the branches cutting through his thoughts and tainting them green with longing.
This jealously serves only to lead him into a oasis of guilt. What is it that he wants so bad, anyways? A family? It's not as though that's something he was never missing! He was raised well by one, they helped him into the world he's in now. What difference does it make if they're related by blood? Besides, he's already met his father, he's knows what he's missing and he knows that it is not much. He has no clue about his mother, of course, and is admittedly still curious about her; perhaps she's kinder than his father was, maybe she would care about him in a tangible way. Though as he ponders the qualities of a person who might associate themselves Martin, so much so to have a child with him, he begins to worry he isn't missing all that much in that regard, either.
But that's besides the point. It shouldn't matter to him! He hates wishing things were different when he already loves the life he has! That's not an exaggeration, either: it's wonderful here! His family, his friends, the people he continues to meet, and everything he does on a day to day basis… there's so much love to be found and shared. Why does he want anything different, especially when it would almost definitely be worse? It doesn't matter how irrational it is, he still can't get his mind off of it. It's impossible to ignore that, somewhere deep down, he is endlessly curious as to what his life could have looked like here. Not in some alternate, magic-less world (although, that does pique his interest as well) but his life in Ooo.
He's long since climbed out of bed, pacing the living room as his mind continues to flow in all different directions. He's been plagued with these thoughts a while, but the sleepless nights are getting worse. At first it was once a week, but it's slowly becoming a nightly ordeal. It's not worth it to talk it through with anyone, he knows it won't come across the way he'd like it to. He's absolutely certain that if he expressed any of this they'd see him as nothing more than an ungrateful child missing the forest for the trees. He's so convinced of this, in fact, he hasn't said a single word regarding it to anyone, not even Jake. He knows that when this first began, that when he first saw his human family, Jake supportive and all that. He did his best to help him through his feelings, but it's not like he knows how deep this goes now. Finn has to imagine he might be a little offended by it. After all, it wouldn't feel good to find out your own little brother wishes he was part of some other family, one you've never so much as met. He can't tell him, and he's the only person who might be understanding. Finn knows he's on his own with this one.
But working through it himself hasn't been working, either. He knows it isn't healthy to ignore it, that's exactly how he got into this mess; spending so long not thinking about this missing piece made it's absence all the more painful when it was discovered. Now that he's truly trying to address it with himself, he's seeing just how ill-equipped he is to do that.
He can't go to others for help and he can't help himself. It's as though there are no options remaining, like he's stuck in a spiral that truly no one or no thing can pull him out of.
Except for maybe one person.
Finn's been considering going to Prismo for some time now. He feels guilty at the thought of using his magic for something so silly, but it seems like one of the better options he has at the moment. He can simply wish to be in a different universe, one with everything he feels that he's missing! Oh, but he doesn't want to forget his life here, though. That would just be another way to run from his problems, and he knows it will probably only serve to hurt him in the long run. And how is he going to get home one he does feel better? He wants to be with his human family for a little bit, sure, but after some time he knows he's going to get terribly homesick.
It doesn't matter, he'll just have to make an incredibly specific wish and hope Prismo can work his magic.
He scribbles a little note for Jake and BMO, just in case they wake up before he gets back. He doesn't quite understand how time passes in the Time Room, so he really doesn't know when he'll be returning. Going into the kitchen, he finds the jar of pickles and gives it a little shake; he's not actually sure how to get to Prismo on his own, now that he thinks about it. He's only ever tagged along with Jake or entered under some other circumstance. It seems that whatever he did was right, though, because soon enough he feels himself getting whisked away to the room.
"Finn?" Prismo questions his presence immediately. "What made you wanna stop by? Where's Jake?"
"Hey, Prismo," he manages to say while getting his barrings in the room. "Jake's not with me, sorry. I just need to talk to you alone."
"Ah, that's all good, don't have to apologize for that. What's up?"
Finn hesitates. "Can I ask you a big favor? A HUGE favor?"
"Hey, you can ask me anything," Prismo slides closer to where he's standing, "doesn't mean I can help you."
"Right, yeah. Can I make another wish?"
"Ummmm," his tone drags and he looks away from the boy. "You're really only supposed to get one, dude."
"I know, but it's almost like I haven't made one yet. It was before you died, remember? You're, like, new Prismo now. Prismo two. Does that reset it?"
"I, uhh, I don't know. Probably not, but it's not like we have a rule for this kinda situation…"
"Please, man! It's like, a favor! For bringing you back and helping with the inter-dimensional stuff!" He hates how desperate he sounds, but his mind is running on autopilot as he asks for this. It's hard to even keep up with the words coming out of his mouth.
"Fine, I'll bite," Prismo shrugs. "What do you want?"
"Okay, so, I wish to have the life I could have had if my human dad didn't donk up and totally abandon me. I want to know what, uh, my life was supposed to be, I guess."
"Hey man, I can't stop you from making that kinda wish, but didn't your old man, like, suck majorly?"
"Yeah, he did. But, I dunno, maybe he'll be different with my mom. I need my mom to be alive too, by the way. I don't know if I need to mention that."
"Noted. But, seriously dude, you've already given that guy more trouble than he's worth. Remember, you can wish for literally ANYTHING you want right now."
"I know, and I want this. At least, right now I do. Oh, but can you make it so that I remember my old life, too?"
"What?" His tone is hard to place, but it's fully rooted in genuine bafflement.
"Like, so I know how lucky I am to be there, with my human mom and junk."
"Hey, why not instead of making your weird wish we just talk this out?" He's beginning to sound genuinely worried. "I'm no therapist or anything, but I can listen.
"Prismo, please!"
"Fine, fine. So you want to be with your human parents and you want to remember your version of Ooo?"
Finn nods. "Oh, and I want to be able to come back here when I'm ready. I'll let you know when that is, okay?"
"I don't," Prismo trails off. "… Whatever, sure. Yeah, I can do that for you. Anything else?"
"Can you pause time here while I'm spending time with my family?"
"Huh? Um, not really. I can pull some other strings but I can't exactly do that.
"Are you sure?" He hates annoying him so much, and he can tell he is. He's just desperate to get this done perfectly, so that everything is alright in the end.
He thinks for a moment, before giving a deep sigh. "I'll try, okay? You have any other weird stipulations before I send you off?"
"Nope, I'm pretty sure that covers it."
"Well, see you later, man. Good luck with your parents."
Before Finn can even say any sort of goodbye, he finds himself laying in an ocean of blankets and pillows, the morning sun gently warming his face.
It's funny how much better one may feel once they're in a different environment. At the Tree House he was stressed out of his mind, unable to sleep and unable to get comfortable. He was even on edge while with Prismo, not knowing if he was going to be able to make his wish come true. Now that he's here and now that the wish is finally done, he's starting to feel at ease. This bed—his bed—is a comfort unlike anything he's felt in a while. For the first time in weeks, he can relax.
He probably should get out of bed and explore, but he instead curls up a little tighter into his blankets, taking in the warmth they provide. He notices something plush in bed with him; pulling it out from under the covers, he finds a well-loved dog stuffed animal, worn and faded. He smiles, holding it close to his chest. It's hard to believe how right this feels, it's like everything he's wanted has finally fallen into place.
Hearing his fathers voice makes the reality of the situation hit him.
"Morning, Finnie," he hears him chirp as he knocks on his door frame, cracking open the door. "You awake?"
He's gotten everything he wanted, he just forgot what he really was asking for.
"This was an awful idea," he suddenly realizes, not wanting to so much as turn in Martin's direction; he can't face him, he doesn't want to. Why would he give up his already wonderful life, even if just temporarily, to live with this man? He wonders what everyone at his real home would think of this. They could easily sport how stupid this all is, how childish and selfish he's being. This isn't home, why would he even try and consider it to be? He's away from everyone he really loves for what? So he can try to feel better? There must be a million better ways to deal with whatever he has going on; this isn't facing it head on, it's just another form if escapism!
"Finn?"
"'M up," he manages to mumble after another pause, only bringing the stuffed dog closer to his chest. He still can't bring himself to look at him.
"Cool. Anything special you want for breakfast?"
He shrugs, though he's aware he likely can't see that. "Anythin's fine." There's a long moment it hesitation before he's able to get out a nearly inaudible "thank you."
"No problem, kiddo." Finn listens as he walks away, his steps becoming quieter and quieter until he eventually hears the clanking of bows and utensils from the kitchen.
He doesn't think he should get up anymore, he doesn't want to face him. It's not as though he hates his father, at least not at the moment. He certainly doesn't like him, but his feelings are more complicated than just plain hatred. Usually, he just tries not to think too hard about it, keeping a strange neutral buoyancy to his memories of him. When he thinks too hard, he starts to wonder how he possibly could have ended up like this, as he knows he doesn't have every piece of the puzzle. It makes him feel more pitiful than anything else, wondering if Martin could have been a good person—a good father—under different circumstances. Perhaps the thought of that is what's making him feel nauseous right now.
"I could leave now," he considers, rolling over to face the wall. "Prismo'll never let me hear the end of it, but could just get out. I'm doing this to myself, right? That's so stupid! I should just leave, I don't belong here anyways.
"But, ugh, it'd be such a waste! I've been thinking about this for months now and I really want to chicken out the moment I get here? I can't get it off my mind. I can't deal with being away from this, but I clearly can't stand to be here either! And I can't just throw away my wish like that, I have to stick it out just a little bit longer, right? Worst case scenario this all sucks buns and Prismo zaps me home and I just hope he never mentions any of this to Jake."
He doesn't want to get up. He probably should. Lying around is just going to make him overthink this more, he ought to just get it over with and go face Martin. He manages to roll back over in bed, slipping out from under the covers and standing up. It's cold, far colder than he had expected it to be; he grabs one of the many blankets strewn over his bed and wraps it around himself, keeping in some of the warmth. He notices a familiar hat in a laundry pile accumulating on his ground. He picks it up and puts it on, noticing a bunch of little differences. It's a different martial than what he's used to, no longer being an animal fur but rather some sort of fabric. It still seems very soft, though, and it even has a little fake nose in the middle. It's not exactly what he's used to, but it's cute.
He takes one long look around the room before he exists. Now that he has a chance to really see everything for what it is, it feels less special than it did before. It's just a room, really, and a pretty small and messy one at that. He's okay with leaving it, he's sure he'll be back soon.
Wandering down the hall, he notices how well decorated it seems. Photographs, mementos, and plaques litter the wall, drawing his attention all over. He stops to read one of the certificates for a moment, finding it's a master's degree in public health addressed to one Minerva Campbell.
There's something about that name that sinks into his heart, clicking into place. It has to be his mother's name, right? There's no one else it could be.
"Minerva," he mouths, looking onward to the photographs. He catches a preview of her, a framed picture of the two of them at what appears to be his birthday. He's smiling wide as she holds him in his chair, the two of them sitting in front of a well-decorated cake displaying a messy number seven. The trim of the cake is decorated with a royal blue frosting, and it seems his mothers fingers are lightly dyed the same hue. It's startling how much he seems to look like her; he has her hair, her round face, and even their smiles seem to be one of the same.
He leaves the photo and heads to the dining room, sitting down at the table and waiting for his father. Martin walks over almost instantly, putting a nice plate of pancakes down in front of hm, with a mug of coffee on the side. He ruffles his hair though the hat and then sits down adjacent to him.
"I put blueberries in yours, by the way," Martin tells him, already digging into his own food. "Made the coffee how you like it, too.
"Oh," he looks down at them, noticing the little specks throughout his food and the nice creamy hue to his coffee. "Thanks."
"Don't say I never did anything for ya'," he chuckles as he continues to eat.
Finn doesn't acknowledge his little joke, beginning to eat like there's nothing worth commenting on. It's delicious, which is a little odd for him to admit. Martin being a halfway decent cook isn't something he expected, though he can't say he ever expected much from him in the first place.
The room is pretty quiet, awkwardly so. This silence is only broken up by the clanking of silverware and occasional scoot of a chair against the floor . Finn takes this time to glance around the room more. It's lived in, that's for sure. Everything is just a little messy, a little bit out of place. And be likes it like that; it feels far more like his home than a perfectly clean house would. There are more photos scattered around, many of which depict them as a happy little family. It all makes him wonder about his life here more and more; what kind of person is he here? He has a feeling his life here is far more dull, for lack of a better term. He has to imagine there's far less adventure here, that he isn't fighting monsters or crawling in dungeons very often, if at all. Other than his emotions being strange, he physically feels different, too; he feels a little less in shape, and he's not even missing any teeth. Not only that, but the humans seem to be so isolated from the rest of Ooo that he finds it hard to believe they get themselves into any sort of trouble. He doesn't even know where in the world he is now, but he has to imagine it's some remote place. If the humans weren't so well hidden, the rest of Ooo would surely know about them.
To satiate his curiosity, he takes a peek out the window. He can't say he was expecting to find a sprawling settlement out there, but it's exactly what it is.
He's gotten very used to living in more remote areas, most of Ooo is like that. In many places you have to get quite comfortable with some amount of isolation, as your closet neighbor could miles and miles away. That couldn't be further from the case here, though. It seems people are right on top of each other, all of their homes in some artificial line. It's not like he hasn't seen something like this before, of course. It reminds him a lot of the Candy Kingdom and the weird, over engineered family-centric neighborhoods Princess Bubblegum designed for them. He just wasn't aware things like this existed in other places of Ooo is all; it makes him feel weirdly at home in some ways and terribly out of place in others. Other than his neighbors, he can see his own home's colorful lawn. Even further out is the ocean, glistening indigo under the sky.
They're coastal, then. It's a pleasant surprise, really. Since he's gotten over his fear of the ocean, he's began to appreciate it a lot more. It makes for a wonderful view, if nothing else. Certainly one he wouldn't mind getting used to.
While in the middle of his thoughts, he hears someone begin to approach the table. He turns, only to be met with the women he's been seeing his all the photographs, his own mother.
It's much stranger to see her in person than it was in the photos. Seeing her now, it actually feels real. She's tangible, taking up space right in front of his eyes. She walks down the hall, going into the kitchen, grabbing herself some coffee and some food, and heads towards the table.
She kisses Martin on the cheek. "Thank for breakfast," she has, taking a seat in between the two of them.
"It's the least I can do," he insists, clearly a little satisfied with himself. "How was work?"
"As good at night shifts usually are," she shakes her head.
The pair continue with their banter for a little while, Finn doing nothing more than observing. He's stunned by both of their behaviors, frankly.
He didn't know what to expect from Minerva. He knew better than to get his hopes too high, especially after what happened the first time around with Martin. He knew she could have been anyone and acted in any way. He seems to have gotten lucky this time around, though. She seems kind, at least as far as he can tell. She's well spoken, well put together, and just generally seems to have a good head on her shoulders. She seems incredibly exhausted, yes, but she just had a late night. He barely knows her at all but he already feels so happy knowing that this is who is mother his.
It makes him even more confused as to how she ended up with Martin. In fact, everything about Martin is confusing him. He knows better than to have any sort of expectations with him, knowing that he will just be let down time and time again. However, he seems different here. He seems… sort of normal. He's only really seen him do one thing so far, but it was one nice thing if nothing else, even if it was just making breakfast. That's already more than what he can say about Martin from his own world.
He can't be too hopeful, though, at least not about him. He feels pretty safe thinking Minerva is a good person, he's gotten a good first impression of her. Martin can still go either way, he can't let himself be surprised if he suddenly switches up on them and begins acting like a man-child again. But for now he just has a strange feeling of overwhelming security, like these people really do care about him. It's similar to the way he remembers feeling around Joshua and Margaret when he was young, and similar to how he continues to feel around Jake. It's not the same though, there's a strange sense of disconnect backing the feeling. He supposes this is just some kind of familial love, though. He guesses that that it might feel strange when it's with people he's not used to feeling loved by.
"Finn?" Minerva asks, seemingly in repetition.
"Hm?"
"Are you okay? You seem spacey."
"Oh, yeah! Yeah, I'm okay. Mom."
"That's good," she responds, a twinge of concern lingering in her voice. "How'd you sleep?"
"Good, I think. I'm still a little tired, I guess," he rubs his eyes, chuckling slightly. It's hard not to be a little giddy when talking to her. He doesn't want them to notice that, but it seems they already have. He tries to change the subject. "Are we doing anything later?"
"Just running some errands," Martin sighs. "Nothin' fun, don't feel like you have to come."
"Nah, I might as well. It's not like I have much else to do."
He shrugs. "If you want."
"I think I do," Finn smiles. Although it might not be the most exciting thing, it could help him become more acquainted with the world around him.
The rest of breakfast is pleasant as he continues to try and act as natural as possible. He can't tell if he's doing a good job or not. Either way, he feels more and more comfortable here with every passing sentence. For a place he's only just arrived in, he feels at home.
He can't tell if this will help him work though his feelings or not. Being here might get him more attached to what he never had, it might make it hard for him to ever leave. Perhaps that's far from the case, though. He still has a feeling that this could really help him, that knowing what he's missing will help him move on from it altogether. Only time will tell, but at the moment he can see himself getting used to this. If nothing else, it seems like a nice life.