A/N: Get ready for more tortured Finn here, I'm beginning to think I'm a bit of a sucker for messed up Finn, but don't worry, this fic won't be quite as angstarific as Save Me or Finn, Interrupted, I'm not a total sadist, however I'm still not in a fluffy kind of mood quite yet, if I tried to write a humor story right now it would probably just seem forced, that and I just haven't gotten any ideas for one. I'm thinking I'm not going to write a lot of canon stories anymore either, with the exception of the occasional futurefic, and I'll try to one day write a futurefic for Finchel in which they aren't dealing with some sort of horrible tragedy. BTW, the last chapter of Finn, Interrupted should be posted either tomorrow or the next day. Until then, enjoy the new story.

He peers out his window at the moving van parked outside. It's small, too small for a couple or a family. It's just as well, the tower isn't the family friendliest of complexes, nor is this part of Brooklyn the family friendliest of neighborhoods. The noise and the dirt, the chaos, the bums pissing in the streets and drug dealers beating on doors at all hours, the lesbians next door having loud sex in the middle of the day, it all makes it a last resort kind of place, an unfriendly place for the kind of girl stepping out of that van, with her big, bright eyes and a potted fern in her hands. He knows her type, just by looking, she came to New York to do great things, a dreamer. She probably thinks there's something romantic about this place, like it's the kind of place where every struggling great ought to have lived along their journey. He feels bad for her already. He shuts the blinds and scratches at his beard absentmindedly as he limps across the tiny living room.

He sinks onto his couch and shuts on his television. There's never anything good on this time of day, but he likes the noise, it drowns out the sound of the traffic. He usually plays music, The Stones or The Beatles, or when he's in a very particular kind of mood he'll break out some Zeppelin, but his record player is broken again and he just doesn't have it in him to fix it yet another time. He's a whiz at fixing things, musical things especially, so the fact that it won't stay fixed for very long is a pretty good indication that it's time to let go, and he'd rather just leave it be than admit that it's beyond saving. He settles on Coming To America on HBO. It's a good movie, it makes him laugh if only on the inside, and he likes the idea of a wealthy prince going undercover as a common man in the city. He wonders silently if that kind of thing has ever happened here, he wonders if the girl in the moving van is really a princess, she's pretty enough to be a princess.

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the movie, probably around the point when prince Akeem and his reluctant manservant go bar hopping, a different movie is playing now, something with Julia Roberts, he must have slept for a long time. The sound of the doorbell is what snaps him awake, it never rings when he's not expecting it. The only time anyone ever knocks is when they've brought something for him to fix, even the drug dealers have given up on him. He doesn't remember having any more appointments today, he decides he's not going to answer it, he doesn't do well with company, but the doorbell rings again and he can hear an unfamiliar voice asking if he's there. He lets out a low sigh and gets up from the couch, limping to the door. He looks through the peephole first, not wanting to make his presence immediately known. It's her, the new resident, and she's holding some sort of dish and fluffing her thick brown hair. He wouldn't usually open the door unless it was business, but she has a dish, and there's barely any food in the apartment, plus she's pretty, and although pretty girls haven't had much of an effect on him in awhile, he doubts he'd be as quick to open up the door if she looked like Dave from down the hall. He leaves the security chain on and meets her gaze through the crack in the door, and she completely lights up as he does, which certainly isn't the way people usually look at him these days.

"Hi," she says brightly. "I'm Rachel Berry, I just moved in next door."

He simply nods and forces a smile that probably looks more like a grimace.

"Anyway, I thought that I would say hello by bringing you some of my famous banana bread. I've been told it changes lives," she continues.

He remains silent as he shuts the door long enough to remove the security chain and opens it wide enough to accept the banana bread, even cold it smells good. He shoots her another grimace/smile in gratitude and she smiles back, showing her blinding white teeth.

"So, you're musician?" she says, looking past him at the assortment of instruments in the corner, three guitars, a bass, a drum kit, a sax, a trumpet and a piano. "I ask because I'm a musician too, I came to New York to become a singer/songwriter actually, so it's nice to meet someone who shares my affinity for the subject." He's not a musician, not really, more like a collecter, a restorer. He's good on the drums, decent on the guitar and he has a voice when somebody forces it out of him, but he's no musician. "Maybe you can play backup for me sometime, I mean, you know, if you'd like to, I don't play an instrument myself, well I play a little piano but not as well as I'd like to, I've been meaning to take lessons but for some reason I've never gotten around to it, which is quite an anomaly for me because usually whenever I have the desire to learn something or do something I tackle it immediately, am I talking too much? I mean you haven't even told me your name yet, I feel like I'm being incredibly rude, so what is it? Your name I mean?"

"Um, it's Finn," he finally says quietly.

"It's very nice to meet you Finn," she says extending her hand for him to shake. He hesitates a bit before shaking her hand with his free one from behind the barely opened door. She's a nice person, he can tell, a little intense, but nice and he should appreciate her kindness, there was a point not so long ago that he would have, but now it only makes him uncomfortable.

"Uh, thank you, for the banana bread," he mumbles quietly, and at that he shuts the door without another word.

I know Finn is kind of a jerk so far but he has his reasons, and he won't be for the entire story. Also I know that the first chapter was short, but the rest of them will be longer, as always...

Stay tuned folks!