13 - a thorn in his eye

Quinn's steps echoed off the high glass walls of the greenhouse, sounding as though a ghostly version of himself was following him. This peaceful place had drawn him in a second time, its promise of serenity and silence calling to him before he had to throw himself back into a tutoring lesson.

Last Saturday's session, or rather, the attempt of one, had left Quinn with an inexplicable feeling of guilt, the worst feeling of them all. Not guilty enough to say sorry to Dev, though. But enough to make him nervous for today.

Quinn inhaled. It smelled like plants, unsurprisingly. Like leaves and soil and sunlight. He sat down at the old bench behind the round planter, and leaned further back, closing his eyes.

It was October. Finally. The sun still shone warmly, but more gently than in early September. It was his birthday soon, and he wouldn't spend it with Grace for the first time in his life. Even worse, he probably had to spend it with Dev, because his stupid birthday was on a stupid Saturday. He still had some time until then, though. Maybe Dev would've had already cancelled every tutoring session and killed Quinn in his sleep before the nineteenth.

Quinn let his head roll back, and something in his body cracked. Almost seventeen and his body was already deteriorating. Whatever did Edi do to still be in perfect shape to care for a whole greenhouse despite being at least two hundred years old?

Quinn kept his eyes shut for a couple more seconds- or perhaps it was minutes. And when he opened them again, a visitor had snuck onto the bench next to him.

He hadn't met the small brown tabby before. Most cats had become familiar to him now, and he'd seen this one from afar, but it was the first time she actually came up to him. She sat on the yellow patterned pillow, facing him, looking at him with big eyes.

"Hi," Quinn said, and the cat's small head tilted. "Who are you?" She didn't answer, just scanned him thoroughly, before standing up to walk closer, bumping her nose into Quinn's leg. A bit more sniffing, a couple more judging stares (which Quinn was absolutely used to by now), and she finally rubbed her head against him. He had been accepted.

"Ah. You're a cuddly one, hm?" He held out his hand, against which the cat pressed her head instantly, purring. This was all new, cats had never seemed to like Quinn a lot back at home. Well, it wasn't like all Oakwell cats liked him. Mars had tried to murder him more than once.

The cat now jumped onto his lap, and Quinn continued to pet her in careful smooth motions. She looked comfortable. Carefree. Oh, how peaceful. Quinn sighed, heavily, deeply.

"Life must be so nice for you, kitty. All you do is walk around and meow. No questions asked, no judgement, no expectations, no anything. Being a human sucks, you know. Everything goes wrong all the time. My parents die, my annoying ass brother moves in, my boyfriend breaks up with me, I move to a shitty boarding school where everyone hates me..." The cat let out a pity meow. "Yeah. Rough, isn't it?"

The cat rolled up into a fuzzy brown cinnamon roll, weighing on Quinn's lap. There was no leaving now. Would Dev take 'occupied by cat' as a valid excuse for not showing up for tutoring?

"My old school's social worker sometimes brought a therapy dog along to work. I met him once, he was a poodle or something. He just distracted me the whole time though. That was just after- well, you know, after my parents died and all. They sent me to the social worker like three times but then I stopped going because it was kind of useless. Does Oakwell have social workers too or is that the job of all the cats?"

The cinnamon roll in Quinn's lap made a little noise that sounded something like 'mrrp', which Quinn sadly couldn't translate.

"They should at least have some kind of therapist here or something. The pressure here must be crazy. For people that actually care about all these stupid expectations, I mean." People like Dev. "I personally don't care, I guess that's the only way to stay somewhat sane. But- then again, everyone hates me for not caring, so how sane am I really? I'm in a lose-lose situation here, either I care about the expectations but can't fulfill them, or I don't care because I know I can't fulfill them, but then everyone gets mad at me."

"Mroow."

"Exactly. And what I'm thinking is, if more people stopped caring, maybe the expectations could be lowered, you know? If everyone is being treated unfairly but just accepts that, things can't change, but if enough people say 'enough is enough, you can't treat students like study machines!' then maybe everyone would be like 'ooooh, you're right, we're sorry! We won't give you so much homework anymore' and then things could be fixed."

"Meow."

"Thank you. I know I'm right but nobody wants to listen to me." Or maybe nobody else felt treated unfairly. Quinn was the only one. He sighed, cursed the silence of the greenhouse for making his brain go places it normally didn't, and continued to scratch the cat's ears.

"Enough about me," he said after a while. "Tell me something about you?"

"Her name is Saturn." The cat jumped up from Quinn's lap as soon as Edi's voice echoed through the glasshouse, and Quinn flinched. "Apologies. I didn't mean to scare you again."

Saturn snuck around Edi's old green rubber boots, purring peacefully, and the old lady leaned down to stroke her patterned fur, then she looked at Quinn, that old wise smile on her lips.

"She found a liking in you, huh?"

"Uh, looks like it." Quinn wiped the cat hair off his trousers, at least attempted to.

"That's a good sign. She can judge people very well." Edi sat down next to Quinn, letting out a sigh. "She doesn't trust just anyone, you see. If you have a good heart, though, she can sense that."

Alright. Sure. Saturn meowed.

"I mean, I don't know about that, but thanks, I guess."

"Oakwell hasn't been treating you well, hasn't it?" Edi mused, her eyes closed again.

"I mean, what does treat me well at this point?" Quinn shrugged, leaning back. "I'll get through it, I always do. I just like complaining, I guess."

"You've lost your parents at such a young age. They were taken from you in a painful and sudden way, and yet you want to be strong for your sister. But you don't have to always get through it, you know. You can allow your heart to bleed, Quinn."

"I don't think internal bleeding is that great." Quinn stretched his arms and legs out, yawning. He may have had a soft spot for Edi, but he could've done without her musings. They were poking around in places he didn't like to be poked. "Besides, how do you know about my parents?"

"Oh, you were just telling Saturn about them, weren't you?" She opened her eyes again, looking more tired now. Saturn jumped off her lap and she got up, making her way back to wherever she was before she had appeared in front of Quinn. "Now, it's getting late. You still have somewhere to be, don't you?"

"Ugh. Yeah. Right, I- Wait, I didn't mention my sister though?"

Edi didn't answer. Quinn got up, circled the round planter behind which she'd just disappeared. Gone. Again. How did that woman do this? Quinn sighed, leaned against the planter. He didn't mean to come here to get a spooky therapy session, he got here to drown alone in self pity before he was forced to endure Dev again.

Wait. Dev. Shit, Dev. Quinn pulled out his phone to check the time. Five minutes too late already. He was going to die.

"You're doing this to piss me off." Dev had his arms crossed, his face illuminated in the soft orange of a dim table lamp, papers and files all neatly laid out in front of him, his voice somewhere between anger and embarrassment of having waited for Quinn regardless instead of getting up and leaving.

"I didn't, I-" Quinn huffed, his legs hurt, his heart beating as fast as it ever had, his breath short, somehow made worse by the way Dev stared at him through his thick eyelashes. "I didn't mean to-"

Quinn nearly fell onto the chair, dropping his head onto the table as he tried to catch his breath. Yes, he actually ran, all the way from the greenhouse to the library. And now he felt like dying.

"This is super funny to you, hm?"

"It's not- Jesus, Dev, just- Just give me-" Quinn raised his hand, trying to signal Dev to wait with his lecture until he could at least breathe again. Maybe he should start taking that stupid running club more seriously. "Okay-"

Quinn deeply inhaled, coughed, almost died, then exhaled, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his face.

"I wasn't late on purpose. Not this time at least. I just ran all the way here from the greenhouse-"

"And what were you doing in the greenhouse again?" Dev tilted his head, furrowed his brows.

"Oh my god, am I not allowed to- I was just looking around trying to relax, sorry! That's a public place and I can go there whenever I want, you know!" Quinn loosened his tie a little now and took off his blazer before he started sweating into it too much. "I needed to mentally prepare for your torture, alright? Had a nice chat with Edi again, saw a cute little cat-"

"Saturn?" Now, somehow, surprise filled Dev's voice. Something akin to insecurity, even.

"The brown tabby, yeah."

"Oh. Well, I hope she fucking bit your ass."

"She curled up on my legs and listened to my woes, thank you very much."

"That's-" Dev shook his head, letting out a breathy chuckle as he rolled his eyes. "She wouldn't like assholes like you, let's be honest. She only-"

"Oh, don't come at me with that 'good heart' bullshit. When Edi says it it's cute but it's cringe when you do it."

"She knows people, is what I was going to say."

"Dev, that's a cat. She doesn't know people, she has no concept of people, she's a cat."

"You'd be surprised at how well animals can sense things that we can't," Dev said with too much confidence. "They can pick up on the smallest things."

"Okay, so if that's true, that means Saturn senses something great in me that you apparently don't pick up."

"She- It's probably just-" And the confidence had left Dev again, replaced it with that good old pissed off expression, Dev's default. "God, can we just start the fucking lesson? You've wasted enough time."

"I wasted time, sure. Hit me, what will you teach me today?"

Dev took one deep breath, as though he had to recollect himself, find inner peace, and his face began to look a little less pissed off, and a little more... no, well, not calm. Still stressed. But not murderously so, not anymore.

"The same thing we were going to do on Saturday."

"Oh. Right." Now could've been a time to say something like 'I probably shouldn't have provoked you like that'. Could've. Quinn didn't do that, of course. "Great, I get to draw some shapes. This is the type of shit I came to Oakwell for."

Dev didn't answer him, just slid over a worksheet and pencil, then leaned back in his chair. His face had turned back to its regular judgey but not outright furious state, more relaxed, just a bit annoyed, and Quinn had to think of something Shane had said to him many times before.

'But you look so pretty when you're mad.'

Which was an insane thing to say, now that Quinn thought about it. But he also kind of got it now. There was something about Dev's face when he was really, actually mad. The way he'd furrow his thick brows, the way he clenched his jaw, the way he bit the inside of his cheek or chewed on his lower lip to keep him from lashing out, and spitting out words Quinn may or may not deserve. Dev's features were quite soft in his more relaxed state, but then they'd switch to something sharp, hard, heated quickly, if only Quinn said one wrong thing.

What a strange train of thought to have. What a oh so very strange thing to want. What a highly suspicious joy to feel when Dev pressed his lips together again in annoyance.

"Quinton. The exercise."

Quinn blinked for his brain to reset, then he shuffled in his seat and looked at the piece of paper in front of him. Right, that. Drawing lines and shapes. Things that absolutely were going to help him.

He sighed, made sure to sound as woeful as humanly possible, and picked up the pencil. He traced a line on the paper, then another one, then a third line, like that was doing anything. The lines weren't super straight, but neither was he, so he didn't care.

Dev did, apparently.

"Do you see how crooked they are?" he pointed out, leaning on the table to examine Quinn's pathetic lines further. "Maybe it's your grip around the pencil. Is it comfortable if you hold it like that?"

Quinn looked at the pencil in his hand. He'd never thought about the grip being comfortable. He shrugged. Writing was never comfortable. Letters weren't comfortable.

"Draw some more lines," Dev instructed him. How annoying. The calmness with which he now spoke, the seriousness. This wasn't fun anymore, now that the actual tutoring lesson had begun and instead of getting mad at Quinn, he actually tried to teach him things.

But Quinn drew more lines. A thrilling experience. None of them were neat, and Quinn's hand already started to hurt.

"Your grip is way too strong." Oh, yeah, that might be a reason. "Does your hand usually cramp when you write? You're putting a lot of pressure on the pen and paper."

"This is so fucking boring, Dev."

"And here I was thinking you had complained enough. Why are you so allergic to just doing what you're told and keeping your mouth shut for half a second?"

"Jesus, fine, I'll draw you more lines." Quinn set the pencil to paper again, this time with less pressure. His hand did, in fact, hurt less this time. Still crooked though.

"See, it's already looking better." It didn't. "If your hand starts hurting, you know that you're holding the pencil wrong." Revolutionary information. "You have less control over the pen when you push down that hard. Try to-"

"I'm bored, Dev, I can't do this. I'm going to die."

Dev inhaled, exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in his chair again, then he let his head fall back, staring at the high ceiling of the library. Part of Quinn hoped that he'd announce the early end to this session once again. Another part just hoped for Dev to come up with a way to make it less boring.

"Okay. Fine. No more lines." He pushed over an empty lined piece of paper. "Write me something. Anything. A sentence."

Anything? Great. Quinn took the paper and wrote down 'Dev stinks'.

"Fucking fantastic," he groaned in response, though Quinn couldn't help but feel surprised that Dev had actually been able to read what he'd written. "Write something longer."

Absolutely no problem. Quinn wrote: 'Dev stinks and is also very mad at me because his favourite cat likes me more than him.'

"You think you're the funniest person alive, don't you?"

"No, I think you are very funny for being so deeply hurt about the oracle only likes good people cat thinking I am in fact a good person."

"Was there a reason for you to bring that up again?"

"Yes, Dev, the reason is that I'm bored and your reaction is funny."

"You're not gonna get bored if you focus on your exercise, Quinton."

"Ah! There! The bad word! Focus!" Quinn spun the pencil between his fingers, leaning forward and resting his head on his hand. "You're making me draw lines, the most mindless task ever, how am I supposed to focus on that? Like, wow, I write a sentence and you watch me write that sentence and then you tell me something about the way I wrote the sentence. I don't want to be here, I don't know what the goal of all of this is, I don't know for how much longer I have to be here, and the only way for me to get any dopamine is to see your pretty face get all heated."

Quinn's pencil dropped. Dev's face dropped as well. Then he narrowed his eyes. Opened his mouth. Closed his mouth again, and furrowed his brows.

"Well," Dev then said. Nothing followed. Quinn wanted to explode for no reason in particular. "Don't ever say that again," Dev finally added after at least ten years of saying nothing. Oh, right, he was allergic to flirty jokes. Quinn had almost forgotten.

Except that now, he didn't get so violently angry to get up and leave, he just looked a little puzzled. Which was also kind of funny, and much less guilt inducing.

"Do you get my point, though?"

"That you only work if I'm yelling at you in the background?"

"Yes, that too." Quinn picked the pencil back up and began drawing squiggly little lines and waves onto the paper. "But the main problem is that I don't care about what you're trying to teach me, so I'm not going to learn it." Less pressure. The scribbles on the paper became lighter and just the smallest bit smoother. "And if I don't care, I won't listen, and I'll forget everything you're trying to teach me. That's my point. I can't learn if I'm not interested in what I'm learning."

He couldn't really learn anyways, had never really... well, learned how to learn. He just knew things because he wanted to know them, and ignored the things he didn't want to know. It got him far enough. Until now.

"I... understand." He did? Dev understood? No way. Lies. "But-" Ah, there it was. "I'm not sure how to accommodate that. I'm here to teach you things, and if you don't want to learn them, I don't really know what to do about that." He pressed his lips together, then cocked his head ever so slightly. "Aside from yelling at you, which, believe me, I know isn't a very healthy way to learn things."

"Well, I don't know either. So? What now?"

Dev hummed, his eyes wandered to Quinn's paper which was now filled with spirals and scribbles, and something in his expression changed for about a second.

"Less pressure, very good. You're not that hopeless, I guess."

☆-☆-☆-☆

WC: 3205

is quinn gay or something

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