At first he simply hadn’t accepted it, refused to believe that he was gone, searched for him everywhere, sat and waited in his apartment or the hospital for him. Gone, without a trace. After one too many drinks Q had almost whipped up a storm in her presence, demanded to know where he was, but after the fire subsided a little he realised how foolish that was. No, he had to be smart about this. Each week that passed his hope diminished, he started to simply accept that Dante was gone. He had mourned the loss of his parents but that had been different, he’d been throw immediately into a situation that required his focus, couldn’t wallow in self-pity. Now Quin had nothing to do but wallow.
For the most part he’d sit curled up in his apartment, had got into a heated argument with Dante’s landlord over keeping it, watching the Doberman pine after her lost owner. The rest of the time he’d either be at John’s, wallowing and clinging to his ashy warmth, or curled up at home with both dogs on his sofa. The sleepless nights were beginning to accumulate and his pockets were becoming thinner from the ridiculous amount he was spending on drinks each day. So when he chanced across an old acquaintance, a dealer that used to work for him, who invited him over and gave him a small little colourful pill. You’ll feel fucking great, trust me. Quin didn’t hesitate, just took it, disappointed when nothing happened but after a while he felt an overwhelming anxiety, his heart was pounding.
Then everything was beautiful.
He drifted out of the apartment, all smiles and wide eyes, thoughts coherent but everything was simply better. For the first time in weeks he felt truly alive, music thrummed through him and when it turned into a distant sound he hummed a tune, it buzzed from his lips. There was a slight bounce in his steps and his immediate urge was to head into the nearest club, but he had another idea in mind. The suit he’d bought weeks ago, back before his world had turned upside down, still hung up on his door all clean pressed and brand new. Intended to go around in it and take John to dinner, do something that’d make him smile but hadn’t felt like wearing it, so it still had the label on it.
It took him much longer than he’d expected to get ready, it took him three, four, five tries to button his shirt up properly, too busy engrossed in the music he was blasting from his phone. It took him even longer to comb through the mess of white hair, glanced at his reflection and briefly considered taking his piercings out but left them in. He felt amazing, felt handsome, felt everything all at once. By the time he got to John’s he had a bouquet of flowers, a mixture of roses, lilies and other such flowers, all white. A paper bag that was now resting against his leg, held a bottle of wine and chocolate, the brown bag wasn’t entirely romantic but Quin was far too excited to care, he just wanted to see him smile. To make John feel as happy as he did now.
Knocked twice, three times, hands in his pockets and then out again. Flattened down his suit and waited trying to be patient but he’d never been good at demonstrating that, lips quirked into a broad smile, a genuine one that was without doubt amplified with his current boost. He held out the flowers as the door opened, “these are for you”.
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