PERSONAE (Finale)

Name: Finley “Fin” Skene

Age: 20 years old

Nationality: British

Occupation: Undergraduate student of finance

Likes: Swimming and A24 films

Dislikes: Olives and the Cardinal Lemoine subway station

The gates to the Saint-Jean Lutheran Church creaked close as the students who had spent the final hours of their afternoon inside the Teaching Center poured into rue de Grenelle.

Shoving a notebook inside his backpack, Fin nearly tripped on the uneven pavement and cursed under his breath. He looked up and spotted Priya, talking to a male student leaning against a dirty wall to smoke a cigarette. He stopped in front of them and offered a timid smile, one only Priya reciprocated. The boy lazily met his eyes and resumed his conversation with her as if Fin wasn’t there. But she raised a manicured finger to his lips, stopping his speech mid-sentence.

“I’d love to talk longer, Isaac, but I actually have plans. So, I should probably get going.” She gave him a tight, but short hug and snaked her arm around Fin’s to tug him along.

So, his name was Isaac.

“Sorry about that,” Fin said, without truly meaning it.

“He was full of himself anyway,” she shrugged.

When Fin turned towards the La Tour-Maubourg metro station, Priya jerked his arm back. The side of her body firmly planted against his chest, she looked at him through her wistful lashes. “I’d like to take the long way, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s nearly an hour-long walk, you know.”

“I know,” she hesitated. “I need the extra 30 minutes of your time.”

Fin nodded, guiding her beyond the metro station and towards the Invalides esplanade. Impatient to know what she meant to talk to him about, he continuously stole glances her way but her mouth remained decisively shut. It was only when they crossed the boulevard Raspail that she made a passing comment about the “gorgeous” tote bags in a bookseller’s window. Fin had expected she would finally open up after that, but she squarely failed to meet such expectations.

Part of him was relieved that she had not meant to pour her heart out for an hour. But with every passing minute, he became increasingly apprehensive of the words she would finally utter that required nearly half an hour of mental preparation. He cleared his throat, cocking an eyebrow to prompt her to speak.

She rolled her eyes and exhaled. “Why do you try this hard for her?”

Taken aback by her sudden honesty—an honesty he would admonish himself for not having anticipated mere seconds later—he stammered, “What do you mean?”

“You’re only walking me home because you want to see her,” she answered, deadpan.

“Yes,” he replied carefully; so carefully in fact that it sounded more like a question.

“Even though you broke up months ago because she treated you like shit.”

Fin halted, conveniently stopping in front of the Rochas store. He glimpsed into the window, recognizing Félicité as she rearranged coats on a rack. The pair made eye contact and she gave him a knowing smile. A young man bumped his shoulder as he walked by, forcing Fin to turn back towards Priya and attempt to defend his soulmate. “She never treated me like shit, okay? She just didn’t love me.”

Priya continued gliding along, her gaze completely detached from the rest of her body. “I can’t believe I wasted my time being into you when you have so little respect for yourself,” she muttered.

“I heard that!” Fin exclaimed though he knew she was right. And yet, ever since waking up in this body, he had never felt more determined to make things right with Fi. If he had changed this much, so could she. And she actually had. “Besides, things have been good between us since then.”

“Isn’t that saying something?”

“It’s saying that she’s ready,” he affirmed.

“How would you know? I live with the girl and she is still as unfeeling as ever.”

Because I was her and I changed, Fin thought. “You would see if you made peace with her. She really misses you.”

“She sure has a difficult time showing it,” Priya grouched.

“I know,” Fin acquiesced. He could tell Priya had much more to say, but their mutual reluctance to hurt one another pushed him to change the subject altogether. It wasn’t until they had turned into rue Mouffetard that she broke their cadence.

“Promise me this, Fin,” she began, softly this time.

“What is it?”

“If she still doesn’t love you back, just walk away.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

She tsked and looked away. Fumbling in her purse for her keys, Fin punched in the code to enter Fi’s building. When Priya found them, she placed her hand on Fin’s shoulder. “I think it’d be best if you waited outside.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back to wait in front of the Greek creperie. Behind the counter, Stéphane’s voice pulled Fin inside the store. He began with an apology for meddling with his love life, though Fin knew that behavior had not been the real him to begin with. As such, he dismissed his remorse and kept their conversation light. Fi appeared a few minutes later, her hair still wet from a shower.

“Hi,” she said, mechanically waving her hand.

“Hi back,” Fin replied with the same robotism. He hopped off his stool and walked towards her, nodding Stéphane goodbye on his way out. They walked down the street for a few minutes, before Fin blurted out, “Let’s get back together,” determined to make Fi’s silence considerably shorter than Priya’s.

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know, Fin. I don’t think I’m ready,” she answered, crushing Fin’s heart in the process.

“You still don’t love me?” He asked, tentatively.

“That’s not it,” she paused. “I think I do.”

Oh?

“I think I do love you,” she repeated, her lips curling into a smile. “I love you, Fin. And, I mean it this time.”

Fin inched closer to her, but she planted her hand against his chest. Hurt flickered across his face and he furrowed his brows.

“I’m sorry, but I decided that 15 minutes ago so I need a little bit of time.” She resumed walking without checking that Fin was actually following her. She simply knew that he was. “I liked who we were these past few months.”

“I liked who we were, too,” Fin agreed, absent-mindedly toying with Fi’s fingers. “But, I’d like us better together.”

“And I’d like that too, someda—” she interrupted herself, her eyes lost in her thoughts like they always were. “No, scratch that. I want to be us now.”

Fin did not give her a second to change her mind and he scooped her into his arms, twirling their bodies around and ignoring the exasperated locals having to go around them. He set her down and grabbed her face, crashing his lips against hers like he had wanted to do for so long. She reciprocated with the same hunger, wrapping her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. After a few minutes, Fi broke away.

“Maybe, we should head back to your place,” she whispered, breathless.

. . .

Fin awoke in his bedroom, the warmth of Fi’s body setting his own on fire. His mouth stretched into a wild smile as he mentally celebrated the confirmed end of his curse.

He slipped out of his bed, suddenly set on cooking a breakfast worthy of the girl sleeping under his sheets. She emerged an hour later, entranced by the pancakes’ buttery smell.

“It’s not ready yet,” Fin spoke, continuously facing his stove. He felt Fi’s arms wrap around his waist and freed one of his hands to interlock his fingers with hers. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it once before Fi freed his torso to dance around the living room and settle for a spot on the couch.

Fin’s face fell at the familiar routine: behind her giddy displays of affection that were straight out of any romantic comedy, her eyes remained as placid as ever. He internally berated himself for being so weak, for selfishly claiming her once more when they hadn’t really talked about her change of heart, her sudden epiphany.

As the cutlery clanging against the plates cut through their silence, Fin wondered if the curse had truly been broken or if he had simply found the one person in the world who could stay with him forever without ever loving him in return.