17 - i don't believe in god (but my father is a preacher)

Quinn nearly tumbled off his bed when Celeste stuck her head through the door and cleared her throat loud enough to rip him out of his hibernation.

"You're still here?" Her arms were crossed as she scanned Quinn, who barely knew where and what he was, his mouth dry and his eyelids almost stuck together.

The rainy weather this week had made him terribly tired, he'd used every free second of his day to sleep, or nap, or attempt to get rest since Sunday. Late October had never been as sleepy as it had been at Oakwell. Raindrops were heavier here. And more soothing, somehow.

"Hwuaargh," Quinn explained.

"Do you not have tutoring today?"

"Hmm, waargh."

"Because it's 17:27-"

"Hurrggh?"

Quinn's eyes finally opened fully, and he sat up, rubbed his face with both hands, blinking the tiredness away. He shook his head, curls flying. Fuck, shit, why did nobody-

"You seemed so sleepy all day so I thought I'd leave you alone for the afternoon. I didn't know you were going to sleep through-" Celeste frowned, looking almost guilty as though she'd read Quinn's mind just now- honestly, she might've. "I was going to wake you for dinner but I forgot you were supposed to meet Dev before that."

Quinn rolled off his bed, grabbing his bag and stumbling past Celeste, pushing the door open, and threw a pathetic smile towards his roommate.

"It's fine, it's whatever, I'm sure Dev will be super duper understanding." He wasn't going to be. "And if not, at least you'll have a room all for yourself again when he's done with me."

Celeste sighed, smiling back as best as she could, though her brows furrowed in worry. "Sorry," she said, "I should've-"

"You're fine! It's fine! Thank you and bye!"

Before Celeste could say anything else, Quinn had already pushed the door shut behind him, rushing down the creaking stairs of Penrose House. He threw a quick glance at the large ornate clock hanging above the dorm entrance as he passed.

Shit, shit, shit- Dev was going to eat him alive, and Quinn wasn't even late on purpose.

It still rained outside, the sky already pitch black, the courtyard empty, thick drops of rain hammering against the gravel path as Quinn ran through puddles and patches of mud on the ground, water splashing up on his ill-fitting pants.

A distant grumble of thunder shook Oakwell and its surroundings. The main building was dimly lit, the loggia being illuminated with old orange lanterns attached to the arched ceilings, swinging back and forth in the wind blowing through the windows.

Quinn's steps slowed as soon as he had reached cover, and he leaned against one of the columns to catch his breath. Rainwater dripped from his bangs down onto the floor, leaving dark marks in the stone floor.

He pushed wet strands out of his face, when he heard something he'd never heard before.

"I'm sorry," Dev's voice echoed across the open hallway, and Quinn flinched, searching for the source before spotting Dev a couple of meters away, his back turned towards Quinn, holding his phone. He turned around slowly, and Quinn took a step back, hiding behind one of the pillars, pressing his back against the cold stone.

"I can't do that right now. There's too much going on at the moment." Dev's voice was small and insecure and apologetic. It had lost all of its steadiness, all the confidence and dominance and the superiority he always pretended to have around Quinn.

"I- I know. Yes. But I can't really take any clients this year. I'm working on- Y-yeah, sorry."

Quinn dared to take a peek around the corner to watch Dev walk back and forth, side to side, chewing on his bottom lip as he listened to the other person on the phone. He didn't look up, not once, his eyes fixed onto the ground.

"We're having an art exhibition at Oakwell again, and that's really important to me right now. There's- Yes, there's gonna be journalists as well. It could be a really important step for me, and-" Dev inhaled, his voice shaking, when he seemed to have been interrupted by the person on the phone. He nodded, slowly and heavily. "I know. Yes. It might attract more clients though, if maybe I was featured in-"

Now Dev's back straightened, as though he'd been caught by someone, his brows furrowed, the ceiling lanterns throwing deep shadows onto his face. He pressed his lips together, nodding again, which then turned into a shaking of his head.

Who the fuck was he talking to? Clients? Did he have a whole business on the side?

"I'm not being- No, I didn't mean it like that, I was just saying, if, maybe, someone featured my work, then- No, I know I'm not that good, but-" Quinn took another step backwards into the concealing shadow of the pillar when Dev continued his back and forth pacing, this time with more speed. "I'm not being egotistical. I didn't mean it like that."

Whoever he was talking to, it seemed to be an asshole for sure. And someone with enough influence to make Dev smaller, to make him more careful in his demeanour, to make him stutter and fall over his words. Someone Quinn should've dreamed of being. Usually. Not now though, somehow.

Dev was quiet for a few seconds, then interrupted by a sigh, and his voice had become so small that it barely reached Quinn's ears, being overpowered by a raging wind and rain beating into the earth.

"Yes," he said, terrifyingly obedient. "Okay. Yes. I can try to squeeze in a commission over Christmas, then, but I don't know-" Defeated, even. Dev had gone down without a fight. Quinn wouldn't have agreed to this, whatever it was, whatever the context, Quinn wouldn't have made himself small and said yes and okay. He wouldn't-

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dev then said.

Quinn's stomach dropped.

He was going to take a step back, multiple, get out of earshot, he should've, at least. Should've stopped listening in, because Dev's family was the least of his concerns. Not that any of this phone call had been his concern so far, but up until now, it had just sounded like business gossip. And now it had become drastically more painful to listen to.

But he kept on listening. Pressing his back against the pillar, he continued to listen.

"Can we discuss this at a different time, please? I'm supposed to meet a student- Yes, I'm tutoring someone this year." Something painful expanded in Quinn's chest, maybe something like guilt, but it wasn't strong enough to stop him from listening, not when he had become the topic of conversation. "He's- Yeah... No. He's scholarship as well, but STEM."

Quinn peeked around the corner again, trying to catch any changes in his demeanor now that he was talking about Quinn. Dev still stared holes into the floor, though, his eyes empty and big and devoid of anything they were usually filled with.

"No, he's- he's quite smart, I'm just meant to help him get used to the school. I'm technically training him in penmanship as well." Technically. "Yes. I know, but- I know, but I think this is important as well. Yes, of course I care about- No... No, it's not, though, it's not a waste-"

His voice trembled. A deep buzz blared from the phone, loud enough for even Quinn to pick up. He couldn't make out any words, but he didn't need to, the tone of a voice being familiar enough for Quinn to understand. The disappointment of a father was unmistakable.

"It's- No, it's fine, I still have enough time to- Dad. No, dad, I am taking this seriously. You know that, of course I'm serious about that, but I was asked to- No, dad, let me talk, please, I-"

The voice on the other side of the phone wasn't going to let Dev talk. The storm had come closer, thunder crashing right above Quinn's head, and a thunder ever louder came from Dev's phone.

Quinn tried to listen to the rain now, focusing on drops hitting the ground, the roof of the loggia, the stone walls. Dev's voice grew more desperate with every word, but Quinn had decided that now, what Dev was saying was no longer meant for his ears.

Not that any of it was meant for his ears. Not that standing there behind a pillar for minutes had ever been the right thing to do, but by now the sheer terror of Dev's voice had become so much stronger than Quinn's urge to know exactly what it was that was causing cracks in Dev's golden facade.

And yet, something held Quinn in place, not allowing him to just go back to the dorms, nor to walk past Dev and give him a reason to immediately hang up. That probably would've been the right thing to do. To end this, now.

But Quinn wasn't known to do the right thing. So he stood in his place and waited for Dev's voice to subside, to become smaller and quieter and sadder, until he muttered, almost whimpered, his last words:

"I'm sorry. Bye."

Quinn looked around the corner once more, and Dev had disappeared. He breathed, the gravity in his chest increasing, and decided to wait another minute or two until he'd follow Dev inside.

This lesson was going to be interesting.

Quinn took a deep breath before he turned the corner to the usual study spot nestled between the high shelves of Oakwell's library. Wet fabric of his shirt still stuck to his skin, raindrops rolling off his curls, his body cold and clammy, yet a foreboding heat was radiating from Quinn's chest.

He wasn't quite sure what the cause of it was. Guilt from having listened in on a very obviously personal conversation? Impossible. Quinn never felt guilty about anything. Perhaps he just didn't want to face Dev now, not that he ever wanted to face Dev, but who knew what state of mind he was in now.

Well, Quinn could imagine, at least. And maybe that was it. The heat in his chest. A strange sense of solidarity.

"Hey," he said, careful and quiet, when he approached the table at which Dev sat. "Sorry I'm late, I-"

"Seriously?" Dev's eyes shot up, and Quinn could feel the poison in his gaze. The hot sensation in his chest stayed, but Quinn decided for it to be nowhere near solidarity. "Twenty fucking minutes, really?"

Quinn huffed. Like Dev himself hadn't been late too, he sure had nerves. He would've been late by maybe ten, barely fifteen minutes if it hadn't been for Dev himself delaying this whole thing. "Well, maybe if-" But Dev wasn't allowed to know that Quinn knew that. So he bit his tongue. "Maybe if it wasn't raining so hard, I wouldn't have overslept, but the weather made me really tired."

"And is it my fault now? That it's raining?" Whatever it was that had made Dev's voice smaller and sadder and scared just five minutes ago had disappeared completely, making space for that usual tone- Except it was worse than the usual. It was sharper and meaner. It was heavier. Loaded with something that threatened to explode. Perhaps those were the things talking to your father could do to you.

"I didn't say that." Quinn sat down opposite of Dev, and the table felt bigger that evening, the distance between the two much greater. "I just slept in, okay? It happens."

"Great excuse, Quinton, really. Have you ever heard of an alarm?"

"God, Dev, there's no reason to make this big of a deal out of it. You're just wasting-"

"No, there absolutely is a reason." He was louder than usual. "I am doing exactly what I was asked to do right now, I'm telling you what you can and cannot do. I've had enough of your stupid fucking excuses. It is not me that is wasting time, Quinton, it's you. Because you fail to take any of this seriously."

Quinn pressed his lips together, let the words hit him like heavy drops of rain. There was no point in arguing, Quinn had to admit it and swallow his pride for just half a second. For just one short moment, he decided to not be an asshole.

"Not only are you taking valuable time from me, you are very much wasting your own time. I am giving you the opportunity to get your shit together and you're the one not using it-"

Because no amount of pretending to be in the right, of righteous attention and conflict loving persona, of big fat inflated ego, could quell that horrible, guttural pity Quinn felt right now. That earnest pain, that sympathy even.

Right now, Dev was the person that spoke to him from the other side of the phone just minutes ago. Right now, Dev was imitating that thunder of a fathers voice.

So Quinn leaned back, sat still and took in whatever words Dev spat at him.

"When this is over, I can at least say that I tried to make this work for you. I can claim that I tried my best, that I came here every fucking week, that I was prepared, that I sacrificed my damn time for you, that I worked my ass off to make this work, and all you can say in the end is that you couldn't even fucking bother to turn on an alarm clock to make sure you're here on time."

Dev wasn't looking at Quinn, though. He was looking right through him, at someone else, someone invisible, and Quinn couldn't help but feel like he wasn't being talked to right now either.

Whenever James — and of course Quinn had to think about James again — talked like this, it felt like that as well. That he was never speaking directly to Quinn or Grace, that he just let words tumble out of his mouth and his heart and his gut, just hoping that anyone would hear them and listen to them and be as hurt as he was himself.

It was always about regaining control that was taken from him. And Quinn knew that, had figured it out at some point, long ago even. Not that he had ever felt pity for James despite it all. Not that he was ever hurting for him.

So why did he hurt for Dev, then?

"Not once have you shown appreciation for these opportunities or for the work I do for you, you're treating this like it means nothing, like your work means nothing, and maybe it-" Dev held his breath, words laying on his tongue, as clear as day, Quinn knew exactly what he wanted to say. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe none of Quinn's work meant anything. And yet he hesitated.

Dev's eyes changed, like they focused back onto Quinn, saw who he was talking to after all, who the person in front of him was. That it wasn't a mirror image, but Quinn, just Quinn.

Just Quinn, who hadn't yelled back, who hadn't called him an asshole or had gotten up and left or had given anything to hurt him back. Just Quinn, who sat there and listened. Unlike himself, yes, certainly. And it cost him a lot to not be the usual Quinn, especially to Dev out of all people, but-

But what? Quinn didn't know. Quinn didn't know anything right now. He never knew anything, and never felt anything, and never thought about anything, even though he did all of that just now, but he certainly didn't like that, because he wasn't supposed to do any of that.

So he used that short moment of silence to go back to being that old Quinn that hated everyone and was hated by everyone, that old Quinn that he most definitely truly was, and he opened his mouth to say one of the usual Quinn things:

"Are you okay?"

No, wait, that wasn't it. That wasn't the right thing, that wasn't the real Quinn, where the fuck did the real Quinn go?

Dev blinked, equally shocked as Quinn was, then blinked again, as though he was only slowly regaining consciousness, or perhaps he wasn't quite sure of the answer himself.

"I didn't-" Dev inhaled, almost choking on something invisible. "I don't think I meant all that."

'I know,' Quinn wanted to say. "Whatever," Quinn ended up saying. "Do you just wanna end this, or-"

"No, it's fine." Dev's voice was quiet and small and sorry once more. Careful, almost obedient, trembling lightly, somewhere between being on the verge of tears and passing out. "Let's just- we don't have much time anyway, let's use it."

Without looking up once more, Dev unpacked his books and folders and papers, exhaled quietly, then went back to pretending like his opposite didn't exist to do his own homework.

Quinn pressed his lips together, watching him for a couple of seconds, before slowly getting his own stuff.

The silence between them felt heavy and sad and oddly painful. Quinn looked at his worksheets, the writing on it small and blurry. He traced each letter on the sheet with his own pen, trying to write over them as accurately as he could, while he attempted to read what was asked of him exactly.

He looked up again, watching Dev as he scribbled away on his paper, the pen in his right hand emitting a scratchy noise as he wrote. His wrist was tightly bound with white bandages, and something uneasy washed over Quinn's body. I thought, a worry, that he didn't want to put into words.

"Did something happen?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. Dev stopped, looked up, caught Quinn's glance at his wrist, then looked down at his homework again and continued to write.

"None of your business," he said. Which was technically correct, but-

"Are you hurt?"

"Quinton, it doesn't concern you."

"Well, as you can see, I am kind of concerned, so-"

"It's to stabilise my hand. My wrist is strained and I don't have a brace so I use bandages." He huffed, his tone slowly slipping back into his usual annoyance. "There, did you want to know that so badly?"

Quinn's shoulders dropped, though he hadn't noticed that they were tensed up before.

"Oh. Okay." He looked back at his own sheet, but the letters were still running away from him. "I thought you were left handed, though?"

"Indeed."

"And your right hand hurts?"

"Yes."

"So why do you not write with your left hand?"

"It will smear."

"You'd rather be in pain than submit ugly homework?"

"Quinton." Dev looked up again, just briefly. "Can you try to do your work? Please."

Quinn sighed, loud enough to make sure that Dev really heard him, then he leaned back in his chair and looked at the worksheet. What subject was he even working on? Physics? Okay. Easy enough. Fine. Time to start, then. Quinn was hungry and tired.

Dev's pen still scratched, almost carved into the paper, the noise loud enough to keep Quinn from trying to focus on his homework.

"Dev?"

"What," Dev murmured, all back to his old self, as he massaged his wrist.

"Less pressure," Quinn said.

Dev rolled his eyes, shook his head, but was unable to hide the brief moment of softness in his expression when he looked back down again.

☆-☆-☆-☆

WC: 3258

oh god. oh man. okay writing and editing this was hell. you guys know i'm not the best with emotional scenes so this was NOT easy for me and i'm still not quite happy with the way i wrote it but. i have to say. i generally like where we are going now.

so. quinn, eh? and dev? yeah. whatever is up with them.

well, well, well. if you made it all the way through the chapter, thank you so much! remember to like comment subscribe ring the bell slap quinns head and share with your friends!

oh, and also with this chapter, we have reached the 50k word mark! which was supposed to be about a third of the way, but i wouldnt trust my estimated word count too much. yet.