Reserved for CK
Quinn had left his boyfriend’s apartment in a huff with no hopes of continuing that stupid little game of his. He had grabbed his sweatshirt and his cell phone and pulled out of the grasp of John’s hands at his bad wrist – another deep insult to the human. Despite John’s calls to return and the constant ringing of Quinn’s cell phone, Quinn kept going, anger pushing at his feet and legs until the stripper had crossed into the nameless city. Tommy had been right. He needed to end it with this guy stat.
It was a different version of the same fight all over again; it always was. This time John had been looking into another apartment even farther from the city for the both of them to move into. It was supposed to be a surprise to the stripper that John had already put money down quite the sum of money onto a fabulous condominium three or four towns east of the nameless city. They were to move out at the beginning of July, move in together and start a whole new life. He said that Quinn could start a new job, free of the ‘reputation’ of being an exotic dancer. In fact he had gotten him an interview with a local bank, because he was such a good boyfriend. The look of fury on the other’s face must have told John that he had done a spectacular job at fucking up everything.
“Tell me this is a joke.” Quinn demanded as he wiped his eyes of sleep that he so desperately needed and that John had interrupted.
“Why would I joke about something like this, baby?”
“Tell me this is a fucking joke, John.”
And the brunette looked at him, dumbstruck, at a loss for words. Quinn, however, was not. Instead the stripper went off, exploding on his boyfriend more than he had ever done in the past. In response John offered Quinn a certain measured number of responses that were heart-felt and cliché as fuck, responses that held no merit with the younger. The banker simply said that it was for their new life, done in hopes of receiving love and fixing the problems which had been plaguing their relationship for the past months. Quinn simply stared incredulously at him as he spoke.
“Don’t talk to me, you fucking idiot. You take your money, your apartment, your perfect fucking life and go fuck yourself with it. I’m done.” And that was that.
Yet his cell phone wouldn’t stop ringing with John’s number on the screen – he almost threw the damn thing down Main Street into oncoming traffic just to let John think that he had been hit by a car -- make the fucker finally get the point.
He walked recklessly through the city, oblivious to much else around him in the setting sunlight of early June. The air was cool and smelled of the sun and pollution, something he wouldn’t give up for the world. This city was more of a home to him than just a place to live. It was where he lived after he had left Jared’s house in Bridgewater. He had gone to Watson University for a semester. The city was his sanctuary, where he was never stared at or questioned, never abused or laughed at. All of his friends lived in this city, all of his money came from this city, and some prick thought he could swoop in and simply take him from his home to make some love nest based on an imaginary feelings of a twenty-seven-year-old bitch? What was he supposed to do, just leave Jerry, Tommy, Hank, Kimberly, and everyone behind just so he could elope with some prince? What the fuck did he look like, some Disney princess?
Quinn didn’t need saving. He needed a drink, a blunt, a handful of pills, a nice, hard, anonymous fuck, a jagged piece of glass, a gun, something. He needed his friends, not these boyfriends-of-the-week like John, Mike, or Anthony. He needed a nice long walk through the city that he loved. He needed deep breaths of summer air in an immortal city. He needed to call into work and blow the night off. And for this reason alone he was happy not to have thrown his cell phone into oncoming traffic.
The human arrived home to his own apartment downtown after about a half hour of fast-paced walking. He took off his shirt which he had sweat through and collapsed on the couch, tossing his things haphazardly on the coffee table in front of him, his shirt on the arm of the couch. He sat there bent forward with his arms on his knees for a long time, trying not to mentally count the amount of pills in the bathroom, or how many shots of tequila he could take before passing out on the bed. The thought just angered him more but he sat still, knowing that he would get past it. He always got past it nowadays. After all he really wasn’t in the mood to wake up in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm again. The Pompeii didn’t pay for the psychiatric tests if he didn’t show up to strip either. Instead, the human laid himself on his back with a grunt of irritation, hoping against logic that sleep – or at least some like state – would take him before he could get up and hunt down those pills.
Logic proved him wrong again, thankfully, and Quinn awoke from a light state of sleep nearly an hour after he had arrived home. Disoriented and confused he looked down at his phone to remember what time it was, only to be greeted with the notification that John had called him about ten times without his knowing. And he remembered exactly what had happened.
The time passed slowly now that he wasn’t as heated. He could still feel rage at John’s ridiculous decision, but it was nothing compared to what it used to be. Sighing, he dragged out his laptop and signed on, surfing the internet for a little while in order to get his mind off of anything that would anger him. He looked through some art web sites, read some of the latest news on his homepage before flicking over to Facebook. He had never been on at ten at night before – work had always prevented such things – so he was surprised to see most of his friends online.
Quinn Patenaude
Fuck you and your "new starts". I\'m perfectly fine where I am. If you want to move, move by yourself and leave me out of it.
He pressed the send button and his status was updated for all to see. Quinn only wished that John had a Facebook as well, but of course he didn’t. Quinn looked through his profile until he came to his relationship status which read ‘in a relationship’. The human stared at it for a long moment and changed the page to his profile, without touching his relationship status. His relationship status stayed the same.
