He would never have expected Jerry to do something malicious towards him, and for that he was thankful, albeit extremely embarrassed and miserable. So when Jerry's weight had freed him from the frame, Quinn sighed heavily and with a note of aggrivation. No matter what he said from this point on would get the vampire to where he just was, and that idea disappointed the human imensely.
He had been dating John for nearly six months. At the beginning of it all, John was sweet, romantic, independant and honest, and Quinn liked that about him. He was a change, a breath of fresh air compared to how Mike, his verbally and physically abusive ex-lover, had been. Quinn found himself happy with John, found himself in a honeymoon stage where things in his life finally felt ok. But things had started to crack. First it was his constant nagging about who Quinn was with, when and doing what. Then it was his job. Then his friends. His apartment away from John. By the time that Quinn had figured out that John wanted nothing short of a faggot fantasy world where they had eloped, had three cats and two dogs and still plenty of room for Quinn's fish in a two bedroom house in the suburbs or wherever the fuck he wanted, Quinn had already been in it too long to tell him to fuck off. Honestly, he liked John and cared about him. He didn't love him, that was sure, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice his way of life for him. But despite all that, they had lasted six months together, most of which Quinn could say were happy months.
The idea of sleeping with Jerry, though more enticing than he ever wanted to admit, punched holes right through the last six months, and that's not what Quinn wanted. It wasn't that he wanted to forget that John ever existed, that would be rude and uncalled for, but rather it was that he wanted to be without John. And the more he thought about it, cornered between Jeremiah and the wooden panelling of the closest wall, the more he realized what he was looking for, even if it was in a temporary and inebriated state. If he was going to fuck Jerry, it wouldn't be because of John, or alcohollic depression, or anger; he would fuck Jerry because that was what he wanted more than anything else. And now wasn't that time.
"I'm sorry," Quinn repeated to the vampire, feeling miserable about what he had started and couldn't finish. "I just... I don't feel right about it right now. I don't even know where John and I stand." This last comment was more for himself than for Jerry; Quinn had actually forgotten that the vampire would've even been able to hear the comment, even if it was said under his breath.