Well, hello everyone and welcome to my new fic! This one's been brewing in my mind for a while and I've got it all planned out, so I'm hoping updates will be pretty frequent.

This story was originally inspired by the song Feed The Birds from Mary Poppins and also by an episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures, although I'm not quite sure how it turned into this!

It's quite dark compared to my previous stories, but I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine...

The sharp slam of a door cuts through the quiet night air in Lima, Ohio. It's followed by the sound of it being wrenched open again a second later, and a desperate voice shouts into the street.

"Finn, come back! Honey, please, let me talk to you about this! Finn, please, listen to me! Sweetie!"

Finn pretends he can't hear his mother's voice cracking as she yells after him. Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he continues striding forcefully down the street, barely noticing where he's going as betrayal and anger eat up his insides. He aims a kick at a nearby wall in frustration and reels back, pain shooting through his foot and adding to his rage.

"Finn?" he turns around, cursing himself for doing so when he sees Mr Berry, one of his mom's friends, looking at him curiously.

"What?" his reply is short and curt.

"You alright, son? Where are you in such a rush to get to?"

He's known Mr Berry since he was about 8, when he and his husband first moved to Lima from Toledo. The concern on the older man's face is making him frustrated and he's struggling to keep his rage at bay.

"Just going for a walk," he lies quickly, wanting nothing more than to get away.

Fortunately, Mr Berry seems to believe him as he smiles and nods. Finn manages not shrug his hand off when he feels Mr Berry pat him on the shoulder.

"I'll see you around. Take care of yourself, son."

The second Mr Berry walks past him, Finn's off and then he's running, faster and harder than he ever has in his life. His lungs are burning for oxygen and his heart is pounding but he has to get away; has to rid his body of this toxic feeling of hatred that threatens to consume him. The soles of his feet are slapping against the tarmac as the anger bubbling inside converts to energy. All he knows is he has to get as far away as possible because he can't take this.

He can't.

He runs and runs until his body feels like it just can't go on anymore and then he has to stop, collapsing on the sidewalk, his head in his hands and his chest heaving with exertion.

A bus comes rattling along the road and he jumps up and throws out his arm, signalling for it to stop. When it comes to a halt, he heaves himself off the ground and through the doors, thrusting some money at the driver and heading for a seat at the back of the bus.

His feet tap against the floor, his fingers drum against his thigh. He has to keep himself moving because if he doesn't he'll explode. He's completely wired – one split-second away from a mental breakdown.

Resting his head against the window pane, he lets the feeling of the cool condensation calm him a little, taking deep breaths. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale…

When he lifts his head, exactly two-hundred deep breaths later, it feels a little clearer. Not much better but, on the other hand, he thinks he might actually be able to function enough to not kick everything he sees.

The glass of the window is completely fogged up with condensation, and he pulls his jacket sleeve over his arm, using it to wipe a small circle and pressing his face against it to peer outside. It's pitch black out there, with the occasional interruption of light as streetlights flash past.

The bus begins to slow down and Finn notices the lights outside are becoming more and more frequent, presumably because they're approaching a town. He suddenly notices how hungry he is, when his stomach lets out an enormous growl.

He supposes he'd better try and find something to eat, so he gets up and gets the driver's attention. When the bus stops, the doors open and a rush of cold air hits him in the face as he steps out onto the dimly-lit street.

The bus rattles off again, and he's left standing on the sidewalk, still getting his bearings as the thrumming of its engine becomes quieter and quieter until he can no longer hear it.

There are a few people wandering around, and Finn follows the road with no real sense of direction, heading towards the babble of noise he can hear a few streets away. People are stumbling around, yelling far too loudly for this time of night. It's the sort of scene you see in movies: people everywhere, drunk off their asses and trying to get home.

Home.

The word just makes him want to punch something right now because home is supposed to be with people who love you and care about you and don't lie to you for your entire life and tell you you're destined for great things when really, when it comes to it and they finally decide to tell you the truth about eighteen years too late, your dad was a screw-up and that's all you're ever going to amount to because that's who you are.

Finn thinks of Ms Pillsbury, the guidance counsellor at school, and what she'd say if she knew what a fucked up loser his dad was.

Maybe she did know. Maybe everybody knew and they've been stringing him along, telling him 'You can do this, Finn,' and 'You're great at that, Finn,' when really they know he's just another Lima loser.

Thinking about his mom hurts. It hurts so, so much. The only thing he's ever wanted was to be a hero like his dad so he could make her proud. And now it turns out that his dad was a druggie and his mom's a liar.

He never thought she'd lie to him, you know? She's the only person he's really had, his whole life. See, he and his mom were a team. She'd told him she loved him, while lying to his face the entire time.

The vibration in his pocket startles him and he reflexively pulls his phone out to look at it. His mom's calling him, and he takes a deep breath as he watches her name flashing on the caller ID, his hands shaking.

The call's about to go to voicemail when he finally answers it, not speaking, just accepting the call and holding the phone to his ear, his breathing uneven.

"Finn? Finny, is that you?" It kills him to hear his mom's voice like that, but at the same time hearing it just brings back the betrayal a thousand times stronger.

"Finn, I know you're listening to me and I want to you know I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His right hand clenches around the phone and his left hand balls up into a fist. He sucks in another breath, trying everything to stop himself from exploding.

"Just come home, Finn. Just come home. We can work something out – we can do whatever, just please, Finn, please. Come home. Please, just come back so I know you're safe. Finn, please –"

His finger stabs the 'end call' button, cutting off the pleading voice of his mom, her voice shaking with tears.

Anger swells up in him again and he throws his phone away from him into the street. It shatters at the impact when it hits the tarmac and he feels a surge of satisfaction now that he's cut the connection entirely.

He loved his mom, he really did. But that was before.

Now he hates her. He hates her. He hates her, he hates her, he hates her for doing this to him, for making him feel this way and now he just feels fucking guilty on top of everything else, like everything wasn't bad enough before he made his mom cry and beg.

He wants her to hurt – he wants her to feel just a tiny bit of the pain she made him feel. But it's not working because now it's hurting him too, her broken pleading down the phone replaying in his head over and over.

All these feelings swirling around seem to accumulate and clump together as a hard knot in his chest, pulling tighter and tighter and tighter, and he feels like he can't breathe. The weight of it is becoming too much; it hurts too damn much and Finn sinks to the ground, burying his face in his arms and finally giving way to harsh sobs which rip out of him, his entire body shaking.

It's hours before he looks up again, forcing away the salty tears. The sky's still dark, but it's quieter. Seems like the drunkards finally stumbled away and passed out.

Heaving himself to his feet, he begins to wander aimlessly along the road, past parked cars and derelict shop windows. Now that he's cried some of the hurt out, he actually feels a little better. He likes this freedom.

Sticking a hand in his pocket, he fumbles for some change when he notices a tiny, dimly-lit café on the street corner.

The bell jingles loudly when he pushes open the old wooden door and he's greeted with the sight of a short man with circles under his eyes and a scruffy beard.

"Can I get you something?" The guy offers, jerking his head towards the counter.

Finn hands the man some change and buys himself a large hot-dog. It's actually lukewarm but he's not complaining because he's kind of really hungry.

"What you doing here at this time of night, kid?" The owner eyes him curiously, and he notices the clock over the counter for the first time and sees that it's past 3am.

"I ran away," Finn answers shortly.

"Hm," The other man makes a sort-of uninterested grunting noise, nodding.

"They treat you bad at home?" he asks.

Finn shakes his head.

"But you ain't going back right?"

The million dollar question. And it kills Finn because he knows, he knows right away what his answer is. Because his entire world has been shaken. And the people who he held closest to him are the ones who've turned it upside-down. He can't trust them.

He wants to break down again when he realises the truth. He has nobody.

So he shakes his head again.

"No. I'm not going back home."

Hmm... I wasn't actually going to end it there, but it sounded like a good place to stop. Don't worry, Rachel will make her entrance very soon. Reviews make my day! Thanks for reading.