“Well, Jake wouldn’t want this to go to waste.”

Finn grins, taking the plate and waiting while Jermaine piles on the food. Sitting at their little breakfast nook, which was already set and spread with syrups and jams, a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, and even a little vase with a cut flower. It had all the markers of when Jake was setting up for one of his extra special breakfasts.

Finn pours the syrup in a smiley face onto his french toast, the way he always did when he was little. The perfect amount, Jake had taught him.