Arms wide open, I stand alone.
I'm no hero, and I'm not made of stone.
Right or wrong, I can hardly tell.
I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell.
When you met Finn, he had been the definition of a total sweetheart. You'd been at a bar/restaurant with friends, at the bar part, of course. While waiting to order your drink, you'd been smashed into by some random. Finn had been the one to steady you on your feet and ask if you were OK. That had led to chit-chat, then to a conversation, and on to your group sitting with his group to enjoy the night.
He'd been practically bashful when he asked you out on your first date, and equally adorable throughout the occasion.
As you got to know Finn, you found him entirely endearing and enjoyed listening to him tell stories of his life in Ireland and his travels for wrestling. When you spoke about your own life, his gaze never left your face, and he always had questions to ask of you. There was a gentleness to him, from his voice to his eyes to his smile. He made you feel safe, supported, wanted.
The months passed easily, with the two of you seeing each other with every opportunity. Finn traveled for work, but on average, you were together most nights of the week. It alternated between your place and his.
Not long after your one year anniversary, you decided to move in together officially. It took a bit of searching but you both finally agreed on a nice house in Florida to call yours. Combining your lives had taken time, coordination, patience, arguing, and apologizing. But within a few weeks, a routine was established. Happiness was the only thing you felt when you looked around your living room, pictures of the two of you and people you loved scattered around.
Things were going great, but great couldn't last forever.
It was one night when you couldn't sleep after a long day at work that you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. Venting to Finn had felt good, but it hadn't made the stresses of the day go away. He was asleep beside you, and you were jealous. With a sigh, you curled your arms around the pillow, looking at his sleeping face. He was downright beautiful, and even though that wasn't a popular descriptor for men, it fit him in all the right ways.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, directly with yours. You startled, not at all expecting it; he had been sound asleep after all. What made him wake up? You were moving around a bit sure, but nothing that should have roused him.
You noticed his normally bright blue eyes weren't the same. They were dark, practically black, blending into the atmosphere of the room. But there was a glow to them, as though there were embers in the middle among ashes.
"Sorry if I woke you," you whispered. At first, he made no acknowledgment that he'd heard you. And then slowly, in an almost methodical fashion, he lifted his head from the pillow it had been on, leaning in towards you. Your breath caught at his actions, unsure what he was doing.
"Sleep, love." His voice was rough, deep, a tone you'd never heard before. Then again, he had just woken up.
"Trying to," you replied, as his face came to hover just above yours. There was an almost…inquisitive nature about his gaze on you. "Finn–"
"Hush," he cut you off. Your mouth closed immediately. "Sleep."
"It's not that simple," you said, your voice barely audible even in the silence.
"It is." His eyes, despite their odd coloring, were practically hypnotic. His words were less of a comfort, and more of a command. With a sound kiss placed on your lips, he smoothly laid himself back down, before pulling you into his body. His arms were tight around you, holding you on your side to him.
Sleep came to you eventually after that, Finn's grasp on you not giving you much choice in your position.
After that, there were various other brief moments where Finn didn't look or seem like your Finn, but you brushed them away. Everyone had their days where they were off or unlike their typical selves. It was human nature.
But then there was the one night in June where you learned, it wasn't entirely human nature after all.
It wasn't even human.
You were out with Finn and some of the other wrestlers he was friends with and their significant others. Noam was being pushy with the alcohol, leading you to taking shots, something you weren't the biggest fan of. But the Scot was persuasive to a fault. So after about two hours of being there, sharing drinks and laughter, you were by definition drunk.
This led to your need to find the ladies' restroom sooner rather than later. Sliding off your chair, you laid a sloppy kiss on the top of Finn's head, before walking off towards a back hallway. There was a lit up sign above the entrance way that indicated you were going in the right direction for what you needed. You pushed through the swinging door, finding yourself in a long hallway with doors on either side. When the door shut, the bar sounds faded into background noise.
There was surprisingly no line at either restroom, and you easily enough made your way into the women's. It took a few moments for you to be able to finagle your shorts down enough, but you were eventually successful. There was an equal struggle in redressing yourself, and you rechecked yourself in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was lying as it should.
Upon leaving the restroom, you smacked right into a solid body of a man. He grabbed at you to steady you as you wobbled in your shoes, your own hands flailing before one found a grip on him, the other on the wall.
"Shit! I'm sorry!"
"You a'ight?" Once you got your bearings and senses back about you, you let go of your grip on him. Looking up, you smiled slightly, apologetically.
"Yea, I'm good. Thanks. Sorry about that." You expected him to let go of you with your words, but he didn't. Instead, he looked down at you, having a number of inches in a height advantage. His eyes scanned over you, making you feel entirely uncomfortable.
"Let me get you a drink," he offered.
"I'm good, thanks," was your terse response, as you attempted to step backward from him. Unfortunately, this put you right up against the wall, next to the bathroom door. The man continued to stand within inches of you, one of his hands letting go of you, the other staying on your forearm. He still had you blocked from the exit by his body.
"Just one. As an apology for knockin' into you," the man insisted, a smile spreading on his face. You assumed he was going for charming, but he landed on creepy.
"I'd rather not. I have a drink waiting at my table," you stated. You didn't want to be one of those girls who had to throw around the 'I have a boyfriend' card, but you weren't beneath it either. Why couldn't this guy just accept your answer and be done with it? The alcohol he had clearly consumed, based on his leering smile and eyes, probably wasn't helping his comprehension of your words.
"Well, you can get back to that eventually," he said, his thumb rubbing on your skin where his hold was. You repressed the urge to shudder at the feeling.
"Let go of me, and we'll go our separate ways," you ordered, trying to make your tone authoritative. You weren't sure if you succeeded, and then you were positive you hadn't, as his grip remained near your wrist.
"Just…"
"She said, let her go."
You knew that voice. Well…sort of. It sounded like Finn, but it wasn't quite the same. The tone was harsh, the bass lower, raspier.
And then suddenly the man was no longer holding on to you. He was ripped away and thrown against the opposing wall, the thud of his body as it hit echoing in the hallway. By the time you realized what was happening, only Finn's back was to you. You knew now it was him based on his clothes; the same black dress shirt with sleeves rolled up, skinny jeans, and sneakers.
"What the fuck man!" It was the last thing the stranger was able to say, as Finn's hand went to his throat. The man grabbed at Finn's grip, scratching with his nails, digging in with his fingers. But Finn seemed entirely unaffected by it. If anything, he put more strength into his hold. You could see the change in color of the man's face and neck, a whiteness starting to wash over his skin.
"Finn! FINN!" You weren't as coordinated as you wanted to be, but the situation had put some precision in your actions. Lurching forward, you grasped at his shoulders and attempted to pull him back, get him away from the man he was effectively choking.
Without breaking his grip on the man, his head turned and his eyes met yours.
They weren't the blue you knew and loved. They were the same darkened but fiery shade from so many weeks ago. His face itself was…sharper. His cheekbones were more defined, his brow ridge harsher in some way. The veins in his neck were entirely visible, coming from beneath his shirt and disappearing underneath his jaw. He was still beautiful, but hauntingly so.
"Go."
You were frozen in your spot, your hands still gripping at his back. This was…not your Finn. And you couldn't tell yourself this was just an off day. It was an off situation, but it was a public situation as well. He had been perfectly fine minutes ago, and now he was…not.
You didn't know what was happening. But it wasn't normal and it needed to be stopped.
"Finn…" Your voice was a whimper in the hallway. "Please. Just…come with me."
"He was hurting you." Finn's voice was more of a growl than anything, as he turned his head back around to set his sights on the man. The man, who was losing color fast, was still struggling as best he could against the grip Finn had on his neck.
"I'm…he wasn't, Finn! I promise! I'm fine! Look at me, I'm right here, I'M OK!" you pleaded, desperation fueling your words, your fingers pushing further into his shoulders. Tears were filling your eyes as the panic fully set in. "Please, Finn, let him go! We'll…we'll leave, OK? We can just go and get home and just…we'll be fine there, OK? PLEASE!"
Finn continued to stare down the man, who was thrashing less and less in his hold as the moments passed, clearly losing oxygen, and consciousness. You could see the flex of the muscles in Finn's arm and hand, indicating the tightness of his grip.
"Finn! You have to let him go! You're killing him!"
Your words were like a trigger. Immediately, Finn let go of the man, and you watched as he fell to the floor in a heap. You felt an odd sense of relief as you watched him sucking in deep breaths, his own hands now the ones at his throat. Finn stepped backward, forcing you to also do so. You were essentially pinned to the opposing wall by his body, entirely hidden from view, and barely able to see the man on the floor anymore.
"Get up and go." Finn's voice still held that raspy undertone as he commanded the man. The man shakily got to his feet, using the wall for support, and without sparing either of you a glance, stumbled as fast as he could out of the hallway.
With the way you were pressed into by Finn, you could feel his rapid breathing, the tension of his muscles. You both stood quietly in the hallway, the muffled sounds of the bar seeming miles away to you at that moment. You willed your hazy mind to understand what you'd just witnessed, what had just occurred. Finn had snapped on that man, had been ready to kill that man. He had been a scary, inverted version of himself.
There were several more still moments until you noticed Finn take a deep breath, and only then did he slowly turn around to face you. He no longer looked any different in the face, aside from a coloring on his cheeks from what you guessed was anger. Had you imagined the change in his appearance? Had the alcohol and panic made you see things that weren't true?
No. You saw what you saw. A late-night different coloring of eyes was one thing. But his entire face had been morphed. Something was off. Finn was...you weren't sure what, honestly. And that worried, alarmed, you more than anything.
"Are you OK?"
"…y…yea." You hated the shakiness of your voice. His hands came up to your face, obviously planning to sooth you. But you couldn't stop yourself from flinching as soon as his skin touched yours. Your reaction immediately registered with him, evidenced by his eyebrows drawing downward, a frown coming to his mouth. He didn't move his hands however, keeping them where they cradled your cheeks.
"It's OK, it's done," Finn calmed you, apparently reading your behavior as the aftershock from the man's intrusion, not realizing it wasn't entirely due to that.
"I…Finn…what was that?" Your question was a harsh whisper, which only made his facial expression deepen further in its negative connotation.
"What was what? That guy? I don't know. You tell me," he replied, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones lightly. You reached up with your own hands, gripping his wrists, ceasing his movement.
"That, was just some drunk idiot. But you…." There was no way you could finish your sentence, unable to formulate your thoughts. You wanted to ask him about what you'd witnessed, confront him about his behavior and change, but you couldn't even begin to find the words to do so. Would he even tell you? Would he fly into another rage, but this time at you?
Based on the way Finn's face went blank, and he all but balked, you could tell he knew what you were attempting to get at.
"Let's go home, yea? We'll talk there," he stated, removing his hands from you, causing your own hands to let go of him. He took a step back from you, awaiting your response.
You hesitated in giving an answer. And you hated that you did. This was your boyfriend of almost two years, the man you shared a home with. Why would you not trust him?
Oh. Right. Because there was obviously something going on with him that would most likely require a long-winded explanation. And you didn't know if it was an explanation you could handle.
"Come home with me, please. I promise I'll tell ya whatever ya need to know," Finn implored, his eyes searching yours.
With the tiniest of nods, you gave your answer. Finn grabbed your hand in his, leading you out of the hallway, past a handful of people attempting to gain access to the same space. You were grateful those people had not come moments earlier.
You didn't really hear what Finn told your friends about why you were leaving, and just stood idly by as he spoke. Whatever it was, seemed to be accepted without argument, as you found yourself within minutes on the sidewalk. He handed you your clutch, before slipping on the suit coat he'd taken off hours earlier. Finn hailed one of the many waiting cabs, and you ducked into the back without prompting.
The car ride was quiet between the two of you. You pressed yourself up against your door, your gaze never leaving the outside world as it whipped past. Finn didn't reach out to you, didn't move closer, kept the middle gap wide between the two of you.
Every mile closer to home made your anxiety rise higher. Would this be your last night with Finn? Were you prepared to hear whatever he had to tell you? What in the actual fuck was going on, anyways? The possibilities were endless really. His behavior, you could explain that away as an overprotective boyfriend. But try as you did, you couldn't come up with a rational reason for why he had looked practically inhuman.
Soon enough you were in the driveway of your house. You said nothing as you opened the door and headed up to the front. Finn came moments later, as you heard the cab leave your place. You stood to the side as he opened the door, allowing you to enter first. It was pure routine that had you going into the kitchen, throwing your clutch down onto the counter. Balancing one hand on the ledge, you slid out of your heels, pushing them to the side.
Finn was at the fridge, his suit jacket now over the back of one of the counter chairs. He took out two water bottles, offering you one. You took it from him but didn't open it, setting it down in front of yourself. It was hard to keep looking at him, and your eyes kept drifting back down.
"Should we…go to the living room?" Standing around in the kitchen to have this conversation didn't feel right.
"Uh, yea, yea, sure." You left your water bottle and turned, walking across the room and down the hall to the living room. Finn was shuffling behind you, based on the sounds you heard. But as you continued into the room, he apparently stopped at the entrance. Looking over your shoulder, your assumption was confirmed. The both of you just stared at one another, no words being spoken, as you turned fully to face him.
The silence was overwhelming, the tension practically palpable. Finn continued to stand near the doorway, his body stiff in an uncomfortable way. He almost looked like he was ready to bolt from the room at any moment if necessary.
You had so many questions, and you didn't know where to start. You weren't sure what words to use, how to get the information you wanted. Would he even tell you the whole truth? There was a feeling in your gut that your world, your life, had been flipped on its head tonight. And you really didn't like that feeling.
"What happened at the bar?" It seemed like a safe question to ask, open enough for him to give you whatever information he was comfortable in giving to start.
"Didn't like what was happenin' to ya." You swallowed the sigh that you wanted to give at his answer. He was avoiding. It didn't surprise you, but you had hoped at this point everything would just be put out in the open. So maybe you'd have to be the one to bite the bullet, so to speak, and be direct.
"I appreciate that. But that wasn't you stopping it, was it?"
His eyes immediately left yours and went to the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing. If you hadn't been watching him, you probably would have missed the subtlest of nods he made with his head.
"Finn, Jesus, you have to tell me what's going on! Don't I deserve that much?" Your anger was a surprise even to you in that moment. It probably had something to do with the alcohol still flowing in your blood, amplifying your fear and frustration.
"You deserve so much more than any this," was his response.
"Stop being cryptic! Tell me what happened tonight. Tell me what's been happening for weeks. I've noticed weird moments, but I didn't think they were anything but that: moments. And then tonight…. Finn, please, be honest with me. Please. What is this? What's going on?!"
"It's…." He stopped whatever he was going to say, unfolding his arms. He ran one over his face, his beard, and then let them both fall to his sides. Leaning against the wall, he put his head fully back, his eyes closing. You watched as he stayed in that position for some moments, not speaking, just breathing.
"I'm not entirely…human."
"What?"
While you'd had wild thoughts and ideas that would explain Finn's odd behavior, hearing him actually say it felt unreal to you. It was one thing to wonder and muse over possibilities, but having them confirmed…. You were pretty sure your heart was about to beat out of your chest with anxiety and uncertainty.
"There's…half of me…I'm…." Your breath was stuck in your chest as you waited for him to finish his thought. "I'm part demon, too." His eyes opened then, as he tilted his head back down to be able to watch you, as you heard the information.
You took in a shaky breath, if only out of physical necessity. How was this happening? You had to be in a dream or an alternative reality.
"What? You gonna tell me the Boogeyman is real too?"
"Well, there's more than one thing that ya could be meanin'," Finn answered, the picture of seriousness.
His answer, so solemn and earnest, wiped all joking nature from you, your body stiffening.
"…Finn…you're fucking with me, right?" It was a hopeless question, and you knew the answer already, but you couldn't stop yourself from grasping at the chance.
He looked sad as he shook his head ever so slightly. Your breathing stuttered again as the weight of the situation settled down on you, as you fully understood he wasn't kidding. You all but fell backward onto the couch, your eyes wide, your mind racing with the knowledge you were learning. Your hand gripped at the couch cushion beside you, in an attempt to ground yourself in some way.
Finn was a Demon. The character he played sometimes in the ring was an actual, real part of him. It wasn't just an idea he had; it was him. Which meant, overall, there were other things in this world that weren't human too probably. Things you couldn't even fathom, most likely.
"I'm… I'm not…." Finn was clearly struggling with his thoughts, looking almost pained by them. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes again. "I'm a monster."
"You are not." Your answer was automatic. There was no way your kind, animal-loving, Lego-building, dork of a boyfriend was a monster.
"I am," he argued. His shoulders hunched forward, as though he had been broken by his own confession, as it had not been one he wanted to make. "I'm not what… Oh sweetheart, if ya only knew." You had the urge to go and hug him, but something told you he wanted to keep the distance in the room right then.
But now, you had a million questions.
Part of you didn't want to ask any of them. Part of you wanted to flee the house. Your boyfriend wasn't what you thought he was, not by a long shot. Everything you knew of demons from books, TV shows, movies, wasn't good. You had to be at risk living with him.
Then again, you couldn't be. He'd been with you for so long now, and you had never felt anything negative from him. There were disagreements, arguments, but those happened in relationships. You'd never once felt threatened by him. So maybe this…evil half of him didn't have as much power over him as his human half.
His human half. What a weird, surreal thing to have to think about your boyfriend.
You decided Finn deserved for you to let him speak his peace on this matter. You'd been together for too long for you to just bolt on him. He was obviously having enough difficulty with the situation. The fact that he'd kept it hidden for so long spoke volumes about his intentions, you felt. And maybe if you knew more, you'd feel less freaked out. There was an almost morbid curiosity that you had overall about the situation.
"So…how does one…uh, become a half-demon then?" You figured his origin was a good place to start in your search for understanding.
"My mam is also a demon." Your mouth opened slightly at his disclosure. You'd met Finn's mom at many shows, talked to her plenty of times through Facetime. She had been the kindest, sweetest woman you'd probably ever known. There was no way she had an evil bone in her body.
"How….?"
"She's had hundreds of years to control herself," he explained, an uneasy smile on his mouth. "Longer than I have."
Finn went on to explain how the balance of the good and evil of the worlds worked; the humans and The Others, as he called them. He told you about how around four hundred years ago a change had been made in the Evil Realm Rulebook essentially, allowing evil beings to live good lives should they choose, without repercussions. He explained how so few had made that choice, but his mother had been one, having already had a sweet spot for his father. It was somewhat confusing as he told you about how the Others could in some way transform their chosen mates, keeping them alive so long as they were. You didn't argue though, deciding to accept the information as to why his parents were both still around for you to meet. It wasn't like you knew any better than he did of this other world's ways.
He told you about growing up as a normal human until his eighteenth birthday when The Other part of him had been made known to him. How he had learned he had abilities, though he didn't specify what they were exactly. Finding out that moment had been almost two hundred years ago for him was a hard pill to swallow. An even harder piece of information to understand was finding out the awful things he had done afterward.
There was clear remorse in Finn's tone and agony on his face as he told you about spending almost one hundred years fully embracing his demonic nature, killing people and causing mayhem amongst many. That was when he had been given the name Bálor, as a means to connect with his evil side and belong in the Others' World. He made no excuses for his behavior, stating he had made his choices on his own.
You were pretty sure there were tears in his eyes as he told you about returning home to his parents, telling them of his exploits, and having to mend those fences. His mother had passed little judgment, having led her own awful life at one point. His father had taken time to come to terms, having long hoped his good human-side would have kept Finn from ever experiencing the negative parts of himself.
Through his entire account, he remained against the wall, and you stayed on the couch. The more he spoke, the more answers you got. But the more questions you developed as well.
"So, how can something that's inherently evil decide not to be?"
"It's…the same way a human who's born realizes they aren't the norm. When a human realizes that they should be one way, but aren't. You're born a girl, but ya feel good as a boy. People say ya should have an attraction to the opposite sex, but ya don't. It can happen for Others too. Just because you're made in one way, doesn't mean ya are that way. It's not common, but it happens."
That made sense, you supposed.
"…how…how are you still…." You trailed off, realizing your inquiry would sound rather harsh most likely.
"How am I still alive?" Finn asked your question for you, a tiny smile on his face as you nodded hesitantly. "Immortality. And, it's not as fun as it has been made to seem."
"OK. But, like, you're…you've had hundreds of years…. And you're just way too damn hot to be that old."
Finn's laughter was music to your ears. You took in the way his mouth opened with the sound, his eyes closed briefly, crinkles at their edges. When he looked at you, he still had a genuine smile on his face. The moment pushed some of the uncomfortableness from the room, as you couldn't stop your own small smile from forming to his reaction.
"It's…it's just a part of the demon, I suppose," he stated. "I can…I have power over how I look when it comes to my human part, my appearance."
"So what you just…stay 30-something forever?"
"No. Not at all. I make sure I age the same as any," Finn clarified. "And then when I feel I've run my course in my life, I go somewhere new, and start again."
"I was there when you got your driver's license, Finn," you pointed out. There was no way he could just start a new life and it went smoothly for him each time, without some legal hang-up. He may have knowledge of another world, but in the real human world, things like that mattered.
"Ya were," he agreed. "But knowing what ya know now, do you really believe every person who works for the government is human? Honestly?"
He had a good point with that one.
Taking a shaky breath, you acknowledged how overwhelming this all was. There were so many other questions you wanted to ask, knowledge you needed to gain regarding this whole situation. While his clarifications so far had made sense, as much sense as talk of demons and other worlds could, you still felt uneasy.
In the span of a few hours, you'd learned that your live-in boyfriend was half-demon, half-human. The demon half of him was hundreds of years old and had killed people. The human half of him was living with that guilt and had lived at least two full lives at this point probably.
"Wait. Why do you use Bálor in the ring then? Is that…when you wrestle… Who is wrestling?"
"It's me," Finn confirmed. "Mostly. It's…sometimes it's hard to keep the demon down, so to speak. So some of that…aggression comes out in the ring. And that's also why I wear the face paint when I wrestle. In case…in case more of Bálor comes out than I intended to."
"That seems like a dangerous game to play," you assessed, your eyebrows lifting.
"Hasn't been an issue yet," was his response. "Like I said, I'm learning still to not let Bálor have control. But sometimes, that's tiring. Sometimes it's better to give myself a reprieve, I guess. But I also want to someday not have to do that. And practice makes perfect, yea?"
"So…before this life, before wrestling, where were you?"
"Ireland. Stayed there and hid amongst my family and Others that understood," Finn said. "And then I decided to try livin' a human life, around actual other humans. Wrestling just…I've always enjoyed it for what it is. And it seemed a good place for someone like me to go and be able to figure this out." You nodded a bit to show you'd heard him, and waited for him to go on.
"I went to Japan to escape all the things I'd done in the rest of the world. To try and forget. But…it wasn't that easy. Those memories, they stayed with me. I can't…." He trailed off, apparently unable to fully explain the burden he was bearing.
You couldn't imagine what it was like, to have two parts to yourself, and entirely opposing parts at that. Having to live with the knowledge that you'd done horrible things to undeserving people…and that you really hadn't had to…. You were amazed at Finn's resilience in that moment. For all the bad, he had been the most wonderful person you'd ever known in your time with him. You'd never had any indication that this part of him existed, and that said a lot about his strength of character.
"Waking up next to ya…those were the first moments I didn't feel…evil," he admitted, his eyes coming up to meet yours, a bittersweet smile gracing his face. "You…ya never knew that part of me. And I just…uh, bein' with ya, I thought maybe I'd finally found the person that would keep it all away."
"That's why when I said you were killing him, you stopped," you realized. Finn nodded in solemn agreement.
"I don't…that's not who I am, not anymore, not really. And I never, never want ya to see me like that either," he replied. "That…monster has no place with you."
"When is a monster not a monster?" Your question wasn't for him to answer; you both knew he didn't have an answer. "When you love it."
"You can't–"
"I can," you cut him off. "So there's this…this weird, different, not-so-great part to you. It's…Finn, we've…." You trailed off, attempting to gather your thoughts, figure out how to explain this to him. Taking a deep breath, you stood up from the couch, making your way to him. Once you reached him, you brought you hand up, gingerly placing it on his cheek, your eyes searching his.
"I've had you in my life for many months at this point. This…this other part of you…if you've kept this hidden this long, then clearly you are in control of it." You paused, trailing your hand down his face, his neck, resting it finally on his shoulder. You put your other hand on his chest, your fingers gripping his shirt. He remained still, his hands at his sides.
"And it's not...you're not a monster. You can't be. A monster…a monster would have let this other part of you run the show and make all the choices, but you didn't. You stopped that so long ago. So…I love you, handsome. I love you, all of you. And we'll…it'll take some time, but we'll make this work just fine."
"You don't understand," Finn stated, his voice soft, almost like he was devastated to disagree. "That other part of me? He's not goin' to go away. And…yes, I have kept it managed around you. But…the more I love ya, the more I know ya…the more he knows ya too."
"OK? And?"
An almost amused smile flittered across Finn's face at your response. Maybe you sounded naïve, but you weren't seeing the threat in this situation.
"I…I can keep that part of me…keep Bálor away. But…by the standards of demons, I'm still young. And I'm still…learning." You could only imagine what you looked like at that moment; concerned, confused, conflicted. "There's still… OK, tonight, for example. Seeing ya in a bad situation…I couldn't stop the switch. I'm still not able to always have control. Especially not for the woman I love."
"Am…am I in danger?"
His silence was the answer you hadn't wanted. There was no way he didn't see the fear flicker in your eyes.
"I would never hurt ya on purpose," Finn avowed, finally moving to touch you, resting his hands lightly on your sides. "And, neither would Bálor. Not a chance. But…when I'm him, when he's in control…collateral damage. That's what I worry about."
"Well, that's my choice to make, to put myself in that position."
"No. I can't let–"
"I'm sorry. Did you just say let?" you cut him off. "Oh no, sweetheart. There has never been and will never be a 'let' in this relationship. I'm making this decision, Finn. You either accept it or you don't, but it's mine to make."
The way his lips pursed every so lightly indicated he seemed irritated by your declaration. But he also accepted it without argument, apparently remembering who he was talking to and that your stubborn streak was a country mile wide.
"I just have one request," you said, looking up to him, making sure his eyes were with yours.
"What's that?"
"I want to meet Bálor. See? See Bálor? I don't know the verbs here. But…I want to know that half of you, the whole of you, not just the glimpses I've seen so far."
"Absolutely not."
"Finn," you placated him, trailing your hands down then back up his torso lightly. "You have to let me in, one-hundred percent in. If I'm with you, then for all intents and purposes, I'm also with him. And just in case…in case things go sideways, shouldn't I know what this all really entails?"
"I don't want ya to meet him. I never want ya to look at me and see him."
"Sweetheart, I already have," you highlighted. "Just not entirely. And, I think it's important that I do."
Finn was quiet after that, with your request which was more a demand, hanging between the two of you. His eyes went from yours to over your face, down your body as much as he could see, before coming back up to your eyes. You remained stoic, serious, trying to convince him of your words with your posture. You meant what you said, and you needed this. It was just a matter of convincing him.
"I just…that part of me…he…." Finn let his thought die off, ending it with a sigh. His head fell gently forward, his forehead resting against yours. You closed your eyes, his already closed, breathing in his exhale.
You understood this was hard for him, appreciated that he wasn't trying to be reckless with his life where you were concerned. But you also genuinely needed to know him, all of him, in order for any of this to be OK, in any way. You had to entirely see and feel and know the man you shared your life with.
"Please, Finn," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as possible. "Trust me. Trust yourself."
There was a tingling feeling rushing through your body as you felt each breath he took, awaiting his response. His fingers gripped tighter at your hips, anchoring you to him. This was do or die time. And quite possibly, that could be a literal thing.
"OK." The air rushed out of your body at his agreement, your heart rate speeding up.
"…OK." Opening your eyes, you moved your head away from his, being able to see his entire face. "I want this to happen now."
"I figured," he muttered, his own eyes staying closed. "Just…if…for any reason, if you don't feel right, I want you to go. Run. Get out of here. Do you understand?"
"Finn, it'll be fi– "
"Do you understand?" He repeated his question, a force in his tone.
"Yes…."
"…fair then."
You waited, your fingers tight in his shirt, your breathing changing pace, your heart skipping beats at random.
And just when you thought he wasn't going to follow through, his eyes snapped open.
They weren't blue.
This was Part 1 of 2.