After Hours: Noah and Finn, winged heartbeats

The air was thick with the scent of damp pine and that heavy forest silence that only breaks when you snap a dry branch underfoot. Noah and Finn had been trekking for a while now. For Noah, it was a mission; for Finn, it was mostly a way to burn off energy, though he was starting to question why he’d agreed to this much uphill cardio.

"Are you sure anything is actually alive out here?" Finn asked, adjusting his backpack. He tripped over a stray root, accidentally lunging forward and nearly taking Noah down with him. "This place feels like a graveyard."

Noah didn't even stumble, used to Finn’s lack of trail-legs. He just caught him by the arm and pointed toward a low branch. "Shut up and look," he whispered.

Two Eurasian Tree Sparrows were perched there, puffed up like dusty tennis balls with distinct black patches on their cheeks.

"They’re... sparrows, Noah. I have those in my backyard," Finn muttered, though he leaned in anyway, his shoulder bumping against Noah’s as he tried to get a better look.

"They're cute. Look at them!" Noah replied quietly. He was about to launch into a technical breakdown of their plumage, but the birds took off the second Finn tried to shift his weight.

They kept moving. Finn was distracted, swiping a spiderweb off his face and complaining under his breath about the humidity. The "bird-watching" vibe was feeling like a bust until Noah suddenly went rigid.

"Freeze!" Noah hissed, throwing his arm out with enough force to nearly clothesline Finn across the chest.

Noah whipped the binoculars up with electric speed. Because of the sudden halt, Finn ended up pressed right against Noah’s back, his chin practically resting on Noah's shoulder. The tension wasn't about the forest anymore, it was the sudden heat of being that close, sweaty and miles from anyone else.

"No way," Noah breathed, a genuine, nerdy grin breaking across his face. "Finn, that oak on the left. Look!"

"What? I don't see anything, give me those," Finn demanded, his curiosity finally piqued. He reached around Noah, trying to grab the binoculars. As they wrestled for the strap, Noah turned too fast, and they ended up face-to-face, the lenses clinking against their foreheads.

"It’s a Great Spotted Woodpecker!" Noah whispered-shouted, ignoring the collision. He jammed the binoculars back to his eyes. "It’s my first time seeing one. Look at that red under the tail... it’s perfect."

"Move, let me see!" Finn gripped Noah’s hands to pull the binoculars down. For a second, they just stood there, hands locked over the gear. Noah was radiating pure adrenaline, his eyes bright from the catch.

"Did you know," Noah started, his voice a bit rushed, "that their tongues actually wrap around their skulls when they’re retracted? People used to say it worked like a shock absorber when they drum, though the science on that part is more debated now.

Finn looked at him, somewhere between disgusted and impressed, but he didn't pull his hands away. "That’s... actually pretty hardcore," he admitted, his voice dropping. The atmosphere shifted instantly, from the excitement of the bird to something much more physical.

Noah finally let go, letting Finn take the binoculars, but he didn't back off. He stayed right in Finn’s space, watching him try to find the bird.

The hike back was louder. Finn wouldn't stop making jokes about "shock-absorber brains," but every now and then, they’d bump into each other. Noah had ticked a species off his list, and Finn... well, Finn had a different kind of impact on his mind.