The statue was hailed as the number one must-see tourist attraction in Italy.
When I had been researching the Internet for popular photo destinations across Europe, literally every website listed the statue in their top three recommendation. And now, standing before it in person, I could see why.
Carved from the finest marble and situated atop a podium, the statue was that of a boy, posed with one hand on his hip, the other stretched out invitingly, palm up, waiting to take another’s hand. I wondered what went on beneath that head of curls, but from the smile on his face, I could tell that whoever had sculpted him wanted him to be happy. And it was just as well that whoever created him also had the sense to provide him with proper clothes, instead of exposing his privates like every other statue in Europe. It was difficult to tell from the shape of the concrete, but I could just make out a dress shirt layered beneath a buttoned-up vest, complete with straight-down pants, and—
Wait a minute.
Why is an Italian statue wearing traditional French clothing?
But then again...the sculptor must’ve had a reason for doing so. I shrugged, and took out my phone. Artists are unique that way.
I snapped a few pictures of him, capturing him in different angles under the warm Italian sun. For good measure, I decided to take a selfie with him, and posed with a peace sign. As I was finishing up, a squad of girls—giggling and pointing at the statue, selfie sticks armed and ready—came flocking over and bumped into me.
Caught by surprise, I stepped backwards, but my shoe tripped over the cobblestones, making me lose balance. Arms flailing wildly, I reached out to grab hold of something—anything—and found the statue’s hand. But my moment of relief was immediately washed over when the hand shifted, and I lost my hold. Stumbling backwards, my shoulders hit the podium just as something big and heavy dropped into my arms.
“Oof—!”
All around me, the girls gasped. Peeking open an eye, I glanced down...and found a face blinking up at me.
W-wait a sec—
I whipped around to the now startlingly empty podium, then back to him, then back again, then back to him.
If...if this is some kind of a joke—
“Excuse me, but who are you?”
I sighed. And here I was, thinking that maybe if he didn’t speak, that this whole thing was just a case of the statue accidentally detaching from the podium and falling off. Definitely not because of the rumor...or that I touched his hand.
I searched for an answer. “I...um...i-it’s not what you think...” There was a lump in my throat and it was making it hard to get the words out. “I was just—”
“Hold on! It’s you, isn’t it?” His eyes widened. “The one I’ve been waiting for.”
“N-no, I—”
“I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
Looping an arm around my neck, he hoisted himself up and started leaning in, and it wasn’t until his lips were almost upon mine and a squeal emitted from the girls, did I realize what he was about to do.
“I-I really don’t think we should...” The onlook of people gathering around was making me uncomfortable.
“But why not? It’s only a thank you ki—”
“Exactly why.”
He pouted, and crossed his arms. “Are people here not used to showing affection?”
“We do...but generally not with strangers.”
“Strangers?” He pointed at the podium. “We are soulmates, are we not?”
By now, the whispering and pointing was attracting more attention, and I was increasingly aware of people scrambling to take out their phones.
“—not particularly tall or handsome,” he rambled on, “but I suppose your eyes are quite a dazzling blue— W-wait, what are you doing—?!”
But I was already running out of the square, carrying him and thanking the heavens he weighed very little. I didn’t really want to take him with me, in case it gave him the wrong idea, but we were attracting a crowd, and I had to do something.
Once I felt that we had put enough distance behind, I ducked into a small alley and set him down.
Unfortunately, I had chosen to run into the most narrow and cramped alley in all of Italy. We were so pushed up together, our faces almost touched.
Peeking out slowly, I looked left and right. People walked on, minding their own business. Good, no one had followed us.
“Why are we hiding?” came his quiet voice.
I sighed. “Because,” and turned around, “a statue suddenly came alive, and now everyone wants to post a video online.”
“On line? On what line?”
“It’s...this thing called the Internet.”
“Inter...net? Oh! Is that some sort of net that people are interconnected to...?”
“Yeah...sure.”
“Which means, everyone’s going to find out you’re my soulmate—?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Listen, I’m not the one, okay?”
I expected him to protest again, but, actually...he just looked hurt.
“Then...why did you hold my hand?”
“I-I didn’t mean to! Those girls—” I rubbed my head. “Look, it was an accident, alright? A-and not to mention, I’m a guy!”
There was a pause. And then—
“I thought...I really thought I would get my happily ever after.”
All that enthusiasm from before was gone. He stood, slumped against the wall, hands behind his back. With his outdated clothes, he looked so out of place—so out of time—and my heart suddenly felt a twang of pain.
I tried again. “Look, I...I’m sorry I can’t give you your happily ever after.” I rubbed my head. “But if you’d like...I can stay with you, just until you figure out where to go.”
His eyes lit up. I could see the hopefulness in them. He was like a puppy, so easy to please. “That would be wonderful,” he said. “I...I don’t have anything planned for the next few days, anyway.”
Next few days? Was he going somewhere after that? But I held my tongue. “What would you like to see first?”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Anywhere’s fine, as long as I’m with you.” He smiled.
“Um...ok, sure.” At that moment, my stomach growled. “Wanna get something to eat?”
“Oh, yes! This will be my first meal as a human.”
.
.
.
.
.
We ended up each getting a trapizzino.
The vendor, a kind old woman, handed them to us with a wink. “Enjoy your stay in Italy, gentlemen!” she had said. I wondered if there was a meaning behind her wink.
We ate on the stone steps of a museum. Afterwards, I took him to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He was excited, and, like an excited child, squealed and balled his hands into fists.
From street shows to markets to historical sites, we spent the entire day in each other’s company.
Then, at last, when the streets were quiet and the city lights came awake, we rode the bus back to the Airbnb cottage I was staying at.
As we got off and made our way up the path, he suddenly glanced down shyly and asked, “Are you sure this is alright?”
I shrugged, and unlocked the door. “It’s fine. It’s just for a couple of days, anyway. And it’s the least I can do...” ...for bringing you to life.
While he toured around, oohing and ahhing over everything with a plug, I found a spare pair of pajamas for him. Leaving him to change, I went and took a quick shower.
“You know,” I said, re-entering the bedroom with a towel around my waist, “tomorrow, if you’d like, we can go for breakfast at the cafe down near—”
But I guess an entire day’s worth of adventure really worn him out, because I found him sprawled on the bed, snoring quietly. The sight made me chuckle; he was such a kid.
Treading lightly, I made my way towards him and pulled up the blanket. He looked so peaceful, brown hair tousled across the pillow, a serene smile on his face. I gazed at him for a moment; he was really cute, actually. I found myself smiling. He murmured something in his sleep, and flipped onto his side. As he did, something on his wrist caught my eye.
It was the number 3.
I peered down.
And it looked like some sort of tattoo.
Strange. I hadn’t noticed it before. And since when did sculptors back in the day design these onto their statues? Hmm, I’ll have to ask him tomorrow.
These thoughts, as well as everything else that happened today, ran through my mind as I made my way into the living room, flopped onto the couch, and drifted off to sleep.
.
.
.
.
.
The next morning, I waited until we finished breakfast before bringing it up.
“Oh, that.” He looked down, cheeks slightly flushed. In a small voice— “That’s the number of days left until I die.”
“WHAT?” The cup in my hand almost dropped.
“I-I mean— Until I...become a statue again.”
I leaned over and took hold of his wrist, laying it face up across the table.
The number now read 2.
I turned my gaze on him. I must’ve looked crazy, because he smiled nervously and ran a hand through his hair. “When I was being created, there hadn’t been enough magic left for me. But my creator...he insisted on giving me the opportunity to experience life, if only for a short while.” He smiled at me, apologetically, almost. “So that is why I am only allowed 3 days.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. His excitement at coming to life, the desire to experience all of Italy—
I really thought I would get my happily ever after.
I leaped up. “No.”
He looked at me; startled, puzzled. “Wh-what?”
“I mean...” Grasping his hands, I pulled him to his feet. “...That we’re going to try and fix this. Together.”
His eyes widened. “But...how?”
I thought back to what I had read online. “You were made, what, fifty years ago? There’s a good chance your creator is still alive.”
It was his turn to nod. “If he is, he might still be in Paris. He’s actually French, you know.”
Ah, that would explain his clothing.
I clutched his hands. “Then that’s where we’ll go.”
“A-are you sure? I have...already accepted my fate.”
“Hey, look at me.” I lifted his chin and held his gaze. “If there’s even a chance to save you, I’m not giving up that easily.”
“But...why?”
“Well, because...” I searched for something to say. Despite how I felt yesterday, despite thinking he was a bother, despite my unwillingness to admit this feeling inside of me...
I took a deep breath. “Because...that’s what soulmates do.”
In one leap, he flung his arms around me and closed the gap between us, and although I didn’t have time to pull away, I found that, in all honesty, I didn’t dislike having his lips, warm and gentle, against mine.
When he pulled back, his cheeks were glowing, his arms still around me.
I gently touched my forehead to his, and whispered, “To Paris we go.”
He smiled, and closed his eyes.
“To Paris we go.”
What an adorable chapter
Thanks for the chapter.