#someotherdog: Finn

[holyfailed]

If you had told Jordan just a year ago that she would be once again sitting in a Catholic church, she would have laughed in your face. Her relationship with God had been damaged in a way that she thought was beyond repair. Not that she was no longer a believer in His existence, just disbelief that he cared about his creation any longer. Which had made her presence in the church a few months ago more of a inconvenient mistake than an attempt at reconciliation, having been taking shelter from a storm in the first building she came across.

She had intended to leave as soon as she realized where she was, but the crack of thunder that followed her hand resting on the door felt like a warning and before she knew it, she was sitting on one of the pews in the back. A few people milled about, lighting candles for lost souls and then Finn had come to sit next to her, perhaps seeing someone he was compelled to save, if such a thing was still possible for her.

And miraculously, while she may no longer find comfort in God, she found comfort in Finn. Unfortunately, it apparently led to today's talk. A younger Jordan would have been humiliated. What had she done wrong? Could one be too needy for a priest of all people? But now, all she felt was anger, her go to emotion. It was easier to be angry than hurt.

"Is that what they teach the priesthood now? To abandon people when they need them? I shouldn't be surprised." After all, hadn't this happened to her once before?

character: finn open: m/f/nb plot: finn is a priest at the local catholic church. recently he’s gotten very close to your muse (up to you as to why), one of his parishioners, and people are starting to talk. after his bishop gives him a lecture, finn decides it would be best to keep his distance from your muse. this post was made using beta editor, please do not reblog it in legacy as i no longer have access to it!

it probably wasn’t the best decision for them to meet in the church late in the evening. especially not hours after his own bishop told him to keep his relationship with his flock strictly professional—wasn’t he in the profession of comforting souls? finn wanted to say that, but he knew better than to backtalk to bishop sanderson. he had wanted to say that, but truthfully, he had to concede that they were getting a little too close, more friends than priest and parishioner. so, he had called them to the church as if it was one of their regular meetings, sitting in the pews together innocently. leaning forward, finnegan had a feeling this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped. “i know i’ve been a comfort to you these past few weeks,” finnegan smiled softly, reassuringly, “but i think it would be best for our interactions to be kept strictly to mass for the time being.”

[thickskll]

her grandmother was, perhaps, the only truly devout catholic in the family—the only one who had devoted her entire life to an unseen deity, with no promise that it would all be worth it in the end. even in her later years, when her body grew frail, she continued to kneel for her prayers, refusing to let her physical weakness hinder her connection to her higher power. though decades had passed since her death, olesya could still hear her grandmother's teachings as vividly as if they had been spoken just yesterday. oddly enough, the matriarch's voice seemed louder than ever within the quiet confines of the church. olesya imagined her grandmother would have found finn intriguing—a man who had lived a life beyond the walls of the church, only to choose to dedicate the rest of his days to his faith. it was the kind of story that would have captivated her, a testament to the pull of devotion and redemption. finn certainly intrigued olesya, though the kiss didn’t feel like a romantic gesture in the slightest. it felt more like a fissure in the carefully constructed mask he wore so effortlessly, offering her a fleeting glimpse of the man hidden beneath. if the weather allowed, she would often sit in the park with a book in hand, intending to read but inevitably getting lost in the steady flow of strangers passing by. people-watching had become something of a pastime for her, weaving imagined lives for those fleeting faces. but if finn had been one of them, a nameless figure in the crowd, none of her guesses would have ever led her to this moment—to him, to the layers of complexity he carried so quietly. anyone else would have reported him, ensuring he was stripped of every title and left to endure the judgment of the community that revered him as if he were divine. it’s what she should do—what anyone with a sense of justice might do. but olesya had never been one for creating a fuss. and though taking the sensible route would have been the obvious choice, it wouldn’t give her what she truly wanted. to solve him as if he were a puzzle. she stayed quiet as he spoke, her expression unreadable, her gaze fixed on him—as if she were piecing together a puzzle in real time, trying to make sense of it all. when it was finally her turn to respond, all that escaped her lips was a single hum—short and abrupt, yet somehow softened by the gentle echo of the empty church. it was as though the weight of his words had stolen anything coherent she could muster, leaving her voice to linger in the air like an unfinished thought. "i appreciate your apology, but i hope you can understand my confusion…" her voice faltered, the sentence tapering off as the words seemed to lodge in her throat. because really, what do you say to something like that? for someone like olesya—adept at keeping her emotions concealed, her thoughts buried beneath an impassive mask—this moment felt unnervingly destabilising, and her usual composure wavered. "it's a convenient way of putting it," she said evenly, her tone devoid of accusation yet sharp enough to cut through his apology. "you kissed me. That's about as involved as I could possibly get." olesya exhaled, the sudden spike of tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly as she fought to keep her voice steady. "you can call it a transgression, a mistake, whatever you want — it doesn't change the fact that you brought me into it." her gaze softened, though her expression remained guarded. "so, please, finn, do me the courtesy of sparing me from your guilt and actually tell me why you did it."

it was a very, very cowardly thing for him to have done. he knew that. he let his emotions get the best of him and crossed a line he was never meant to cross after taking his vow, and then he just left olesya alone in the dark of the silent nave. alone to deal with the shock of her fucking priest kissing her, then bolting. the guilt nearly ate a hole through his stomach, and it only deepened in her presence. finn began to wring his hands. normally, he wasn’t so furtive, but he had trouble making eye contact with her. he felt much like a child, shameful and bashful in front of a broken lamp. there was no older brother to take the blame for him anymore, as if mason would ever reach out to him after their last fight, and the diocese would rightly admonish him, maybe even censure him, if his infraction was reported. if olesya hadn’t wanted to ever return to st. peter’s, finn would have spent the rest of his life pretending it never happened, and he would have been happy to live in denial. denial of his transgressions, denial of his feelings. not only the guilt of doing the act weighed on his shoulders, but the fact he had yet to confess to a fellow priest or his bishop about what he had done—mostly out of fear, out of that childish belief that if he ignored something, it would go away.

olesya had done the exact opposite: she confronted him, a mirror that reflected his misdeed right back into his face. finn inhaled noisily as she spoke, trapped underneath her gaze that had captivated him from the moment she stepped foot into his church. when he saw her in the pew, almost looking as if she wished the wood underneath would open up and swallow her whole rather than come forward to the altar. he found that charming then. her crack about the confessional box made his stomach cramp. she may have been speaking figuratively, but the prospect was very real to finn. “no, you’re right…. i do owe you a conversation.” he nodded, as if to cement the reality into his head.  “i owe you an explanation.” it was a breach of trust, was it not? he was not just a priest, but her priest, hesitant as she was. a pastoral guide, that was what he was supposed to be. he was of a higher moral standing than his parishioners, he was supposed to be trusted with their lives and their souls. he was never supposed to let humanly feelings get in the way, because his life was dedicated to god. “but most of all, i owe you an apology. i’m very sorry for what i’ve done. please trust it had nothing to do with you,” well, that was a hard sell, since it was her that he kissed, “what i mean is that it was my responsibility to deal with, and i should have never involved you in my… transgression.”

[finclgicls]

with mrs. campinelli's presence all but forgotten, anita's eyes concentrated on what was silently shared between both men across from one another. she held her breath, almost feeling as if she was in the presence of two ticking time bombs, her husband much closer to his outburst, finn kept a cool resemblance, the kind of peacefulness one could find in a priest, she guessed. anita hated to be in that situation, hated how simon needed to assert ownership over her anywhere they went—and seemingly had no problem in branding her to get his point across, to make sure she didn't forget she was his, now, it was almost as if he was making sure finn didn't either, and this alone made anita feel scared of what mood he would be in once they returned home.

she didn't let it show, though.

she was all smiles and niceties, she was the perfect example of a doting wife. if she hadn't confided so much in finn, especially about how miserable she felt in her marriage, surely he'd be another person in that town asking her when she planned on having babies with him. if god was truly merciful, never, but she knew god not to show her much mercy. and that was fine. she didn't deserve it. swallowing thickly as she observed the back-and-forth as it happened, she felt simon's gripping her harder when finn directed her the word. "he's a fine priest," she agreed, but so far, she had been attending to keep up a facade, she no longer felt touched by the sermons, they held no meaning to her when spoken through the wrong lips.

and anita couldn't help but watch them as they moved. thankful to be by simon's side and even more thankful he was so caught up in whatever challenge he thought father finnegan was throwing at him, that he couldn't see the way his wife looking at the priest. there was longing, but was there love? the thought startled her back to reality, she didn't quite catch what finn asked of her husband, but she was thankful he agreed. anything to prove himself as a willing member of their little community. anita was pretty sure he was considering running for mayor. it would explain a lot.

she was surprised when simon kissed her lips. he wasn't soft about it either. it was brute, and forceful, and it left her lips swollen, and she hated it. pushing him lightly and feigning modesty when he looked at her quizzically. "mrs. campinelli is right there," she told him with a smile that never reached her eyes, and just like many times before, he didn't seem to notice, his chest puffed as if he was proud for being crass, calling it passionate. "i'm going to help the others load chairs, annie, why don't you make yourself useful, too?" she didn't even deserve a backhanded compliment, he tasted her lips again before walking towards where people were lending a hand, men, mostly, leaving only her and father finnegan alone, it seemed years since they last found themselves in a similar situation.

she watched as he gave her enough space and let out an involuntary relieved breath, turning to see finn had stayed. she felt awkward. trying her best not to balance on her feet as she looked at him. "so—i should, uhm, make myself useful. wouldn't do you any good to be seen with me," she said, certain that mrs. campinelli was far enough not to eavesdrop, even if she tried.

anita had a smile on her face, but it was strained. simon had a smile on his face, but it was prideful, borderline aggressive. finn grimaced without meaning to—his youngest sister, maggie, said that he had a mean case of resting bitch face. that was before she stopped talking to him, however. sometimes, he had to work hard to remember his natural expression and change it into something more applicable, more agreeable. no one wanted to confess to a priest that looked like he'd rather be anywhere other than the church. right now, he wanted to be anywhere other than the church. he already didn't enjoy the semi-annual bake sale, the present company just made it harder (save for mrs. campinelli and her blueberry muffins, of course).

simon looked at him as if finn was mere seconds away from grabbing anita and fucking her right then and there. it disgusted him. the possessiveness of simon. his own passiveness. that was the worst part. finn just had to stand there and take it. what was there to really take, anyway? he held no claim over anita, she had her own agency, and there had never actually been anything romantic between them, despite what the diocese thought. they couldn't know anything about what finn and anita spoke of during their clandestine, nighttime meetings. they couldn't know anything about what finn felt inside, his affection for anita.

only he and god knew that.

her husband certainly acted like he knew what happened during those clandestine, nighttime meetings. in fact, he had the arrogance of someone that knew the secret before anyone else. finn wasn't often a violent man, but anita's husband might just change that. fix your face, finn. he tutted at the reasoning, though he had to be somewhat relieved that she didn't come to his masses anymore. it was easier to ignore the pain of tossing her aside, the guilt. "father paul certainly has his charms! i can't blame you there." father paul was considered the fun one out of the three priests that served st. joseph's. finn thought he was corny.

"oh, don't you worry about me. i've made a couple stops around the room already." he joked lightly, then glanced at the forgotten mrs. campinelli. luckily, she seemed more interested in arranging her plastic-wrapped muffins than his conversation with the married couple. his gaze shifted back to anita, taking in the look on her face. suddenly he leaned forward and placed a hand on simon's unoccupied arm, "actually, simon, we're going to need some help loading all the tables and chairs back into the storage room. would you be able to lend a hand?"

[thickskll]

olesya's views of religion had always been contradictory, she had never believed in any of the gods or felt moved by any scriptures but still found some stability in the communities formed around it. the way people came together, with their flaws and vulnerabilities on full display, and there was no judgement or threats of being cast out made her feel...warm. olesya had been out in the cold for as long as she had last been in the warmth of her family's community, and she hadn't realised how much she had grown accustomed to it until she was approached outside of the church; picked out from one of the passerby and reeled her in with a cliche punchline. for the first attendance, she chose the pew closest to the main doors, easier to make a swift exit once she came to her senses. the priest was nothing like she had expected; his sermons felt more like engaging stories than tiresome lectures, and the congregation seemed to mirror his demeanour—humble and welcoming. it gave her a sense of ease, more like slipping into a lively conversation with a group of old friends than partaking in a formal religious experience—a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been longing for since leaving home. the kiss, which was a loose term in this circumstance, was unexpected. it went from the two of them speaking to finn nearly tripping over himself to get away from her, it was almost comical but olesya couldn't bring herself to laugh. instead, she was left grappling with a flood of emotions that she couldn't quite parse, driving her to seek clarity. She couldn’t pinpoint her exact feelings toward the priest, and while she could understand how the situation might be equally unsettling for him, she wasn’t the one who had initiated it. she took her usual seat and waited for the church to empty before approaching the altar. when he had called for newcomers to come forward on her first day, olesya shrank deeper into her seat and ignored the pointed looks directed her way. now she stood just a few feet away from him, her shoulders square with quiet determination. "i wasn't going to, at first." she tried to make her tone sound firm, but the emptiness of the church seemed to soften even the roughest edges of her voice. "but i've always had a difficult time keeping my distance, even though being here has helped me to discover my apathy towards all of this, i can't seem to break the routine." she observed him for a few moments, studying his expression and the subtle shifts in his body language. "i believe i'm owed a conversation, father. perhaps one that would possibly put you on the penitent side of the confessional box?" another moment of silence stretched between them, long enough for the corner of her lips to curve into a soft smile—a quiet reassurance that this conversation didn’t have to be difficult. "figuratively, of course."

character / finn availability / f, nb story / finn is a priest that has complicated feelings for your character. despite how hard he's tried to keep away from them, they shared a kiss last night and he's feeling very, very guilty.

it was wrong. it wasn't illegal in the legal sense, but by the law of god, he had committed a crime. no, a sin. it was a sin. it was natural for him, a priest, to get attached to a parishioner. it was even natural for him to feel something for them, it was something they warned him about in seminary school, but this was beyond the pale. this was... wrong! it was just fucking wrong. he wished it could be blamed on some demon, that terrible urge to lean forward in the pew and press a quick, fumbling kiss to their lips. he wished it could be blamed on anything other than the simple, overwhelming desire to touch a beautiful woman. it would make it easier, certainly, if it had been the fault of the devil. finn had pushed them away as if he hadn't been the one to initiate, made a flimsy excuse about mass the next morning, and hastily left them alone in the darkened church.

it wasn't dark in the church anymore. mass had ended over an hour ago, and he spent his whole sermon searching the pews for her. he had hoped she wouldn't show her face after tempting him. he had hoped she'd be front row, almost close enough to touch. to his relief, and his dismay, they hadn't shown. not until the church was empty and finn was almost ready to return to his office. turning away from the altar, he saw them standing just a few feet away. his breath caught in his throat. “h��hi.” normally an eloquent man, their visage always struck him dumb. “i figured you weren't coming.”

[parancrmcl]

loneliness had been her constant companion, wrapping her in its cold embrace and whispering tales of unworthiness and despair. it was a desolate, gnawing presence that she had learned to accept, as if it were a permanent fixture in her life. but everything changed with his arrival. at first, it was his sermons that offered a glimmer of solace, then his presence during her darkest moments, and finally, the night before—a night that shattered the fragile boundaries of her existence. the kiss had been more than a transgression; it was an eruption of everything she had tried to suppress. she was bound to a marriage that had long since turned into a prison, her husband, christopher, a man whose possessiveness was matched only by his cruelty. the kiss with father finn had thrown her into turmoil, revealing a depth of feeling she could no longer ignore. the bond between them had grown far beyond the confines of priest and parishioner, leaving her disoriented and unsure.

that evening, she attended mass alone. christopher, true to form, stayed home, ostensibly occupied with 'important business'. in reality, it was common knowledge that he had numerous affairs, a fact that had numbed her to his excuses. as father finn led the congregation through the familiar rituals, anita remained outside, partially hidden in the shadows. she watched him from a distance, her heart a chaotic mess. when the church began to empty, she took a deep breath and approached him. the taste of his kiss lingered, a haunting reminder of her own desires and guilt. facing him now, all pretense fell away, leaving her raw and exposed. her voice trembled as she spoke, betraying the storm within her. "i didn’t know if i was coming either," she began, her tone soft and reverent, yet laden with unspoken pain. "i couldn’t—" she paused, struggling to contain her frustration, "i couldn’t stop thinking about last night. what’s supposed to happen now, finn?" her eyes met his, revealing the depth of her internal struggle—regret, confusion, and a deep sense of loss. the question hung heavy between them, a plea for guidance in the face of a love that had crossed boundaries and a life that felt increasingly untenable.

character / finn availability / f, nb story / finn is a priest that has complicated feelings for your character. despite how hard he's tried to keep away from them, they shared a kiss last night and he's feeling very, very guilty.

it was wrong. it wasn't illegal in the legal sense, but by the law of god, he had committed a crime. no, a sin. it was a sin. it was natural for him, a priest, to get attached to a parishioner. it was even natural for him to feel something for them, it was something they warned him about in seminary school, but this was beyond the pale. this was... wrong! it was just fucking wrong. he wished it could be blamed on some demon, that terrible urge to lean forward in the pew and press a quick, fumbling kiss to their lips. he wished it could be blamed on anything other than the simple, overwhelming desire to touch a beautiful woman. it would make it easier, certainly, if it had been the fault of the devil. finn had pushed them away as if he hadn't been the one to initiate, made a flimsy excuse about mass the next morning, and hastily left them alone in the darkened church.

it wasn't dark in the church anymore. mass had ended over an hour ago, and he spent his whole sermon searching the pews for her. he had hoped she wouldn't show her face after tempting him. he had hoped she'd be front row, almost close enough to touch. to his relief, and his dismay, they hadn't shown. not until the church was empty and finn was almost ready to return to his office. turning away from the altar, he saw them standing just a few feet away. his breath caught in his throat. “h—hi.” normally an eloquent man, their visage always struck him dumb. “i figured you weren't coming.”

[finclgicls]

anita wanted to shake father finnegan. slap him and kiss him all at once. she didn't know what she expected him to reply, but as he did, she found herself deeply disappointed. she wanted more than just that. more fight in him. wasn't she worthy enough to inspire that? wasn't what they had nurtured worthy enough to want to keep existing in each other's lives?

but what had they nurtured?

it was an answer she didn't know how to answer. was it friendship? no, whatever it was their bond, it felt stronger than friendship—she was woman enough to realize the feelings that had grown inside her. the feelings that had made room inside her heart.

but then—realistically—what was she asking of him?

could she really be able to ask him to leave his life of service for her? could she ask him to choose to give up his calling and every choice he had made before then for her? she didn't think of herself as worthy. no. not whatever they felt for one another. not whatever she represented to him. it wasn't worthy, and she knew that because there was nothing she could give him in return that would explain such actions. it pained her to realize that. to realize she wasn't enough for him, just as she wasn't really enough for simon. when anita thought her insides couldn't fracture further, there she was, unable to hide the cracks of her miserable attempts to mend herself back together with glue and scotch tape, pins and needles.

"don't—" she held her hand up, "there are no other universes, no other lives. you have made your choice father, and i have made mine." for a moment, she thought about how she would choose him in any universe, in any reality and quite possibly in any life. but the opposite didn't happen—couldn't happen—and the rejection made room for itself inside of her, creeping inside her bones, making her sag.

there was no fight in her, there hadn't been any fight within her for a long time. her relationship with simon was whatever simon wanted and imagined, and she figured she might even feel his anger for her sudden disappearance, especially when she had done so with finn. simon was her present and he would be her future, that much was clearly something she couldn't fight. anita would do the best she could with whatever she had, and without father finnegan there for her.

"i'll do my very best to stay out of your way."

and with those parting words, she walked away.

away from finn.

away from god.

away from herself. ＋ @someotherdog

anita was angrier than he expected, but he certainly did expect her to be angry. when their last conversation ended, she had made it clear that she was hurt by his cleaving. that he had no right to know about her personal life anymore. she was absolutely right. if he was to cut her off, she was going to cut him off right back. that didn't stop him from caring, though. the diocese could relocate him to another town, another state even, and he'd still have his feelings for anita. she could be married to simon for the rest of her life and he'd still wish it was him instead. despite standing a few feet from each other, they'd never been further apart.

he swallowed dryly. her pain was evident in her voice and it was partly his fault. more than partly, probably. he didn't have the right to know anymore, if he ever had it at all. anita allowed him into her life because she had no one else. no family, her husband was a prick, women were intimidated by her. not only finn coveted her; he saw the looks she got in church, he saw the proud-but-possessive look on simon's face as he noticed all the men admiring her as they walked to a pew. it was just gross. did they not realize how kind anita was? how sorrow had burned itself into her ribs and how incredibly lonely she was? finn knew. she told him so.

i don't know what you want me to say, finn.

what exactly did he want to hear? that she missed him, that she'd stand up to the church for him because he was conditioned to keep his head down? that she was going to leave simon for him? none of those answers were satisfying, because finn knew himself. he could yearn and desire her all he wanted, but he'd never do anything about it. a life of quiet contentment felt more like cowardice. fantasies of their life together, their love, had swam through his thoughts nightly and he would never, ever make a move, for three reasons. first: he was a priest, and he took a vow of celibacy. one that he took seriously, just like all his other vows. second: she was married, even if her husband was a piece of shit. he did respect the sanctity of marriage, like any good catholic. third: he did respect anita, even if she thought he didn't. he wouldn't want to touch or kiss her without permission. her beauty was unmistakable, but not the only thing about her. not even in the top ten most amazing things about her. she must think he's just another objectifying, lecherous man. he felt like one. and a coward.

he'd never touch or kiss her without permission, because it was clear that was the last thing she wanted, evident in the way she crossed her arms around herself. it was finally becoming clear to him that he lost her. finn lost her before he ever had her. he was pushing and pulling her and it wasn't fair. he didn't care if it was fair. he wanted her. that was the honest truth, and one he could never say.

yeah, he didn't understand himself either.

finn nodded, looking away from her. it felt very final. maybe that was what he needed after all. maybe he got her alone for closure. yeah, that must've been it. he still wasn't looking at her, "i'm sorry, anita." his voice sounded watery and he hated that. he must've been the weakest man in the world. he willed the tears to not gather in his eyes. "i'm sorry for being weak and i'm sorry for turning my back on you. i don't know. i guess that's what i wanted to tell you." he finally returned his gaze to anita, his one hand still resting on the trunk. "maybe in another universe, y'know. you and me." certainly not this one, though. he was starting to accept that now. "this has been pretty confusing for me, too. i never thought..." finn faltered, then sighed deeply. "anyway, i am sorry. next time i see you around church, i won't bother you." / @finclgicls

[finclgicls]

what did he want from her?

was their imposed distance not enough for him? must he come around and torture her with his presence and his concern? here she was, being reasonable, trying to comply to his wishes, with what he had asked of her. staying away and not being friends—if that's even what they were in the first place. him asking how she was doing, him seemingly wanting to sneak this moment with her, it was messing with her mind. she hadn't seen or heard of him for weeks, and now what? now he felt some sort of protection over her because her husband was around? because simon had decided to show off and stake her claim right in front of him? if he knew or didn't know, it wasn't finn's concern anymore. either it was protection or guilt, she would have to deal with it. as she had done her entire life.

alone.

she looked at him for a moment searching for answers, but could only think about how much she missed being this near him. she had every damn right to be angry at him, but all she could feel was how intoxicating his scent was. he was so good, too good for her. life had proven time and again that it would rip away everything she held dear to her one way or another—everything she loved. her heart clenched and her throat closed. anita didn't know how to be around finn anymore. she wasn't aware of their limits toward one another. would it be okay if she touched him? was he still a source of comfort for her? could she still feel for him? want him? be near him? her hand wanted desperately to reach for his face as it had done so many times before, but anita forced it back.

"i don't know what you want me to say, finn. if i tell you i'm fine—if i tell you I'm happy, does it make what happened okay?" it was an unfair question, she knew. "if i tell you i've been feeling miserable, what will you do about it?" his hand had been as forced as hers, but it didn't take away of how hurt she felt. the moment he turned his back on her, he forfeited all his rights to be in her life. the situation was unfair on both of them, but at the end of the day, finn would go back to the clergy house with the other priests and anita would be back to living in her own hell.

she wrapped her arms around herself, putting more distance between them as if there wasn't enough. she was scared of him coming closer because she needed him. she needed him unlike she had ever needed anyone before. still, the disappointment with their current situation was more overbearing than anything she could feel. it was etched in her features. marked further and harder than any bruise simon had ever given her. a small scoff escaped her lips, a low curse under her breath as she realized what she was submitting herself to. was it not enough how many men had hurt her yet? must simon hurt her body while finn aims at her heart?

"i don't understand you, father, and i'm honestly tired of trying." ＋ @someotherdog

anita didn’t want to be near him. he could sense her anxiety coming off in waves and he hated that he was the source of it. she followed him silently to the parking lot, he didn’t try to fill the silence himself. quietly the pair walked through the halls of the church. finn threw open the door to the rear parking lot and held his hip against it to keep it open for anita to walk through. once she did, it didn’t take long for them to cross the distance to mrs. campinelli’s car. 

finn opened the trunk knowing that sweet mrs. campinelli hadn’t kept the car locked. they lived in a nice small town where no one had to worry about their safety. they just had to worry what their neighbors were saying about them. loading in the boxes, he looked blankly at anita when she began speaking. his stomach hurt. they had to stay away from each other and all he wanted was to be near her. he felt guilty for going back on his word to his bishop and he felt guilty for abandoning anita. he felt so guilty that despite it all, he just wanted her back. though he never actually had her in the first place.

he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too. that was the truth of it. he wanted to follow his bishop and have his late night meetings with anita without getting in trouble for it. he couldn’t have both, though. finn never thought he’d ever be tempted to betray his vow or leave the priesthood, and though he yearned for anita, he knew that he couldn’t. he gave up too much of his life to be a priest. there was no turning back. there was also the pesky detail of anita’s husband. her controlling, asshole husband. finn hated the man on principle, being married to the object of his affection, but his own personality would’ve made finn hate simon regardless. the way her husband clung to her like she was his property, the stories that anita had confided in finn, his irritating smirk. all of it sickened finn.

finn sickened himself. here he was, coveting thy neighbor’s wife. rather, his parishioner’s wife. the shame he felt came from all different sides and he didn’t know which one hurt most. either way, it probably was best that they keep their distance from each other. he was warned in seminary school that this could happen, that his feelings could get confused. the best solution was to stop the feelings before they even began. in finn’s case, stop them from growing any deeper. they should return to the church.

but there was something that finn knew that anita didn’t: the rear parking lot didn’t have any cameras. as long as simon didn’t come looking for them and no one from the clergy saw, then it was like they were never there. “yeah, we should get back,” finn pretended to agree, “in a minute…” he lifted one hand to place it on top of the trunk door, though didn’t close it just yet. he wanted some plausible deniability. “i just wanted…” he faltered for a second,  “how are you, anita?” finn finally decided on, pressing his lips together. / @finclgicls