The Space Between Numbers

Unexpected Variables

"Hey," Finn said, voice low, calm, warm. "Looks like we're lab partners."

Milo's brain scrambled. Words failed him. "Uh... yeah," he managed. His voice pitched higher than intended. He swallowed again, heart hammering. One... two... three... steady.

As they began the lab, Milo tried to focus on the procedures, the test tubes, the bubbling solutions, but Finn's presence occupied his mind in a way that numbers never had. The tilt of his shoulders. The subtle curve of his jaw when concentrating. The way sunlight hit the strands of his hair, turning brown to gold. The warm tan of his skin, smooth and steady. Every detail etched itself into Milo's awareness.

His chest felt tight, but it wasn't panic exactly. It was... electric. His fingers tapped against the edge of the notebook in tiny rhythms, tracing invisible lines to try to calm himself. One... two... three... four... repeat.

⸻

"You okay?" Finn asked suddenly, noticing Milo's pause. His voice was careful, not probing, just observant.

Milo nodded quickly. "Yeah. Numbers... numbers in my head."

Finn tilted his head, intrigued. "Numbers are good. I like numbers. They make sense."

Milo blinked. Sense. A thought he usually agreed with, but Finn—Finn made him feel like there was something else besides sense that mattered. Something chaotic and alive. His chest fluttered. Breath caught. He shook his head slightly.

⸻

They worked side by side. Pipettes, flasks, solutions. Milo found himself speaking more than he normally would, asking questions, noticing small details about Finn's techniques. The faint curve of his lips when correcting a pipette, the tilt of his head while reading instructions, the subtle weight shift on his broad feet.

Everything about Finn pulled at Milo's attention, but he couldn't understand why. Not the same as Sadie's warmth, not the same as Liam's easygoing presence. This was... different.

The panic that sometimes gripped him was gone, replaced by something harder to name. His mind raced, trying to map this new feeling in a familiar grid. But the numbers couldn't contain it. Not yet.

⸻

By the time class ended, Milo's notebook was filled with precise notes. But the numbers weren't what he remembered. It was Finn's eyes catching the light as he laughed softly at a small mistake Milo made. The way his broad shoulders leaned over the counter. The subtle warmth of his presence beside him.

Packing up, Milo felt something stir that made him uncomfortable and fascinated at the same time. He replayed every detail in his mind, aligning them, comparing them like an equation he couldn't solve.

"See you tomorrow?" Finn said casually as he slung his backpack over one shoulder.

Milo nodded, words catching. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

⸻

Walking home, Milo tried to count his steps to steady his pulse, but his mind refused. Finn's dark blue and forest green eyes replayed behind his eyelids. The tilt of his shoulders. The curve of his jaw. Every small movement.

He found himself forcing numbers into the chaos. One... two... three... four... five... trying to make sense of the sensation, but nothing added up. He realized, with a jolt he couldn't name, that Finn had already unsettled him in ways numbers never could.

Sadie fell in step beside him. "You've been quiet," she said. "Everything okay?"

Milo shrugged. "Yeah... just... thinking." Not about numbers. About him. About Finn.

Her eyes softened. "Thinking is fine," she said gently. "But... don't forget to breathe too."

Milo nodded, counting silently anyway. One... two... three...

⸻

That night, Milo lay in bed. His notebook open, pencils aligned along the edge. He traced the margins once, twice, three times. Not counting, just grounding.

But his thoughts refused to obey numbers. Finn's green and blue eyes, his broad shoulders, his quiet smile they swirled in Milo's mind like a new formula, unsolvable. Milo's chest fluttered with something unfamiliar, confusing, intense. Something that had nothing to do with patterns or grids or right answers.

Numbers didn't lie. But they couldn't explain this.

And Milo, for the first time in a long time, felt something he didn't want to name, but couldn't stop feeling either.

——————

Good morning, afternoon or night
I Really really want a chicken sandwich but it's 7 in the morning 😔🫩