Chapter Text
Finney did not want to seem too eager on his birthday. In truth, it was more bittersweet than anything.
There was still some pep in his movements as he got ready for the day. His pajama shirt came off and another shirt came on. In the space between the two he gazed upon that crucial line of script in his arm, looking not dissimilar to a tattoo.
November 13, 1931
Finney looked into it once using an old almanac and math. His soulmate was born on Friday the 13th. It felt like a curse upon them both.
He wondered if they woke that morning with similar excitement, knowing it was his own March birthday. Did they quietly celebrate it with him all those years? Finney always thought about them in November, not that he had much to go on.
They were older than him— by a lot. That was about it.
"Hey, there he is," his dad greeted when Finney came to the breakfast table. "Happy birthday." He had more of a handle than usual on his hangover and its irritation; that alone was a gift. He even made eggs, toast, and bacon to eat. "Thirteen, that's a big one."
"Yeah," Finney agreed, sitting down and helping himself to a good breakfast. He longed to speak, but it was easier to stuff his face. He wanted easy and was prepared to let the notable day pass him by without bringing up an unpleasant topic in the family.
It was his dad who broached the subject.
"You still wanna go down to the courthouse?" It was a right of passage, same as checking out of school at sixteen to get a driver's license. The government kept records of every soul mark and the day it was delivered, but it was standard to not release that information until the younger of two parties was at least a teenager. The age encouraged a childhood over romance while still acknowledging no one could stop youths from dating. A few kids at school already found their soulmate early by asking around and comparing. That would never work for Finney. His dad reminded him. "You know she's basically my age."
"I know." There was nothing Finney could do about it. The most control he had was taking a marker when he wore short sleeves and changing the year to 1981. It was not much better. He tried not to show his arms.
His dad could see his resolve, regardless of its depressive lining. He sighed. "Well... go put on something nicer to wear." He disapproved of Finney's jeans and casual shirt. "Gwenny!" the man yelled while Finney changed. "You finish getting ready and we'll take you to school on the way."
The drive to the courthouse was oppressive. More than once, Finney felt the need to apologize, despite still having no say in the matter. It would not have been his choice if he could make it. He would prefer a soulmate at or around his own age, someone with whom he could weather every milestone of life together. Instead, he was going to request information on a person already through the other side of growing up. They probably had a job and a house, maybe even kids his age. He still wanted to know. Even if he did not look them up or meet them for a few more years, he wanted to know.
There was a line before they got to the counter. Waiting made Finney more nervous. He felt like everyone present already knew who he was and what his arm said. He feared they would loudly question the date to make certain they heard correct.
"Uh," his dad drawled before getting to the point, "here to put in a soulmate request for the birthday boy." He nodded his head to Finney at his side.
"Of course. Happy birthday." The woman smiled and pulled over a small box of folders at her side, all ready to go with that week's batch of birthdays. "Name?" she asked. "Or corresponding date of birth?"
His dad sighed, more willing to give one than the other. "Finn Blake."
The smile she wore fell a little, as if she already knew. She pulled the file. From the front of it, she took their copy of registered information regarding Finney's soulmate, and he tried peeking around his dad's shoulder to see. When the man reached to take it, she held on. Making eye contact, the woman nodded her head to a group of waiting chairs at their side.
Amidst sixteen chairs sat three people. One was a woman around the right age, sitting with a girl who was Finney's. She was very lovely, but she was not his soulmate. She was simply a mother sitting with her daughter. Possibly, they were waiting for another appointment in the building. Equally as possible, they were waiting for the same thing as the man a few chairs down.
He was older, as he was always going to be, but he was handsome in a way Finney rarely thought to imagine. His long blond hair was feathered and styled. His clothes were very nice for the occasion, one step shy of formal. Blue eyes lit up when he saw Finney staring a little too long.
"It's a man," said his dad's displeased voice, confirming on the paper they were given.
"Yeah." Finney tried to sound apologetic. He did not anticipate the outcome, but some part of him buried down deep always thought it could be a possibility.
"Come on."
Finney feared they would leave the courthouse altogether, but his dad actually walked them to the set of waiting chairs. The stranger stood to greet them. He wisely extended his hand to the adult, but Terrence ignored it for a moment.
"You... Albert Shaw?"
The man swallowed and nodded. He knew to act repentant and contrite, as if he spent most of his life practicing the perfect balance of guilt for being a grown man with the year 1965 in his skin. "I am." He looked past the father and smiled at the teenager. He waited so long for it, longer than his soulmate could ever imagine. "Are you Finn?"
"Finney," he corrected, making the first thing he ever said to his destined suitor become a childish nickname. Finney felt younger than ever. "You can call me Finn." Maybe it was time to grow up a little. He was so far behind.
"You can call me Al, Finney." He did not mind if a nickname made his soulmate sound too juvenile. He used what the teen preferred.
Terrence interjected himself between them. "Can I talk to you, Mr. Shaw, man to man?"
That was the problem, him being an adult man. Finney felt humiliated having his dad act like a parent for once but at the worst time. Al was going to think him such a baby.
Looking from Terrence to Finney and back, Al gave the only answer he had if he wanted introductions to proceed smoothly. "Of course."
Finney sat in one of the waiting chairs and watched the two men have a conversation off in the corner. Al kept himself very intentionally composed, but his dad spoke with more animated gestures. More than once, he jabbed the man's chest with his finger. Just as many times, he motioned at Finney, pointing out the teenager he still saw as a small child, no doubt saying how the man should be ashamed. He was— or he appeared to be. It still did not change anything.
Terrence could let them be together now or delay the inevitable until Finney turned eighteen. No, he could risk his son sneaking out to meet with the man over those next five years.
Out of breath and out of things to say, his dad left Al to return to his boy. Finney thought for certain they were about to leave, but instead he fell down hard in a chair and said, "Go on. Go talk to him."
Al waited.
Despite being what he wanted, Finney felt self-conscious approaching the man, especially after Al endured his father's excessive chastisement. Maybe they could correspond through letters for awhile before going further.
They still needed to get through the day.
"I'm sorry," Finney muttered, "about him." He waited for having a soulmate to be easy, to become something for which he was not constantly apologizing.
"It's all right," Al assured. His hand hesitated three times before touching Finney's shoulder for a pat. It felt heavy and warm. "He's just doing it out of concern. You don't want to know how my father acted."
He did. Finney never thought about the other side, how growing up with a date so far in the future would have made Al the victim of his own disgust. "What did he do?"
The man's smile slipped, replaced by something like veiled pain. "Let's not talk about that," he insisted, though it was more like a plea.
"Is he...?" Finney was not sure how to ask after someone who would be like an in-law to him. The age of everyone involved made things awkward. Was it rude to inquire?
"He's dead," Al told him, "my mother too." There was no one but, "I have a brother, Max. You'll like him. He remembered to wish me luck about... Actually, he got the dates all mixed up and called last week."
"He sounds nice." Finney never had a brother. He wondered if a brother-in-law was close enough, even if he happened to be a few decades older. "I have a sister," he volunteered, sharing information in the interest of fair play. "My mom died."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Just you, your dad, and your sister then?"
"Just us," Finney confirmed.
"I've been invited," Al told him, in case he did not know, "to dinner with you all tonight." He glanced at Terrence, who was pretending not to look at them.
"Oh." Finney was not upset to hear that. He wanted to get to know more about Al. It simply sounded like a lot coming on so soon. "That's cool."
"You know," Al said, "I wasn't sure if you'd actually show today." He sounded like a man prepared to camp out all week. "But I wanted to... since it's your birthday..." From the pocket of his blazer, he took a small wrapped gift. "It's nothing much since I don't know what you like yet."
Finney took the white box with blue ribbon. "Thanks." He had not been expecting anything like it. Opening the gift, he was still not sure what to think. Glancing at the man's hands made it obvious he liked jewelry. The shining steel bracelet with blue stones seemed an apparent gift for him to buy.
"It's your birthstone," he explained. Finney was not one for jewelry, but he let the man put the band around his wrist and squeeze the pliant metal down to size. It did look cool.
"We match," he said, pointing out the man's own decoration.
"Yeah." Al held up his arm, showing his bracelet with all its little carvings, something more masculine. "But if you don't like it," he offered, "I can get you something else. Just tell me what." He wanted to make the boy happy, or he wanted to buy his affection.
"No," Finney said, partly lying, "I like it." He would try to remember to put it on whenever he anticipated seeing the man. Mostly, he was excited that someone other than his family put thought into his birthday.
Al looked across the room, and when Finney followed his gaze, he could see his dad standing and waiting. Time to talk was over.
"He doesn't like me," Al remarked. He was not surprised by the fact, simply disappointed. For a few more years, he had to go through that man to get to his soulmate. Any hope he had for a more lenient mother disappeared when Finney filled him in on her passing.
"He's never liked you," Finney told him. "I think, uh, finding out you were a man today just made it worse."
"Oh." Al never thought about that. "I always knew you would be a boy."
"Always?" Finney could not imagine such lifelong surety.
"Mm-hm. And I hoped when I saw the two of you step in line that it'd be you."
Finney's mouth went dry and his face warm. "Why me?"
Stating his opinion as obvious fact, Al said something no one outside his family ever had. "Because you're very handsome, Finney."
It felt flattering but wrong to hear. "Are you supposed to say that?" he asked. "I mean, you're... I'm..." Even between soulmates, certain laws still existed.
"No harm done," the man claimed. He would not beg pardon for complimenting the person he intended to spend the rest of his life with. "Tell me you weren't a little relieved to see me too."
Finney choked on his own spit.
So the man knew he was attractive, and he certainly put a little extra effort in for the day. Maybe it was important that Finney get to know and like him, but there remained a slight physical component to their relationship. It made the boy insecure. It made something about them less wholesome.
He was almost glad his dad interrupted them so he did not have to respond.
"Come on," urged the man. "You still got the rest of school to get to."
Al did everything but glare at Terrence. His expression and voice remained cheerful when he said, "I'll see you later then, all right?"
"Yeah," Finney agreed, still trying to get used to it, "later."
He did not know whether to hug Al or shake his hand in farewell, and again, his father rescued him from choice by ushering him away. He gave a half-nod to Al and escorted Finney to the car.
The ride back to their neighborhood was even more tense than the drive there. His dad laid out ground rules Finney would rather jump out of the car than hear. He tried to remember Al's words that the man only did it out of concern. It still made Finney feel untrustworthy the way his dad acted like he could not be trusted alone with his soulmate. Their every interaction would be chaperoned until he was older, and there would not be many. He did not know what his dad was so afraid of. Al was nice.