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    Damond
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Best And Worst of Me - 8. Chapter 8

The next set meeting with Allen was on Wednesday. Quinn did relax a little bit over the weekend, though he didn’t like the idea of depression. It wasn’t something he should be dealing with. Depression was something people with issues had—more than just being gay.

 

Quinn watched Lizzie thoughtfully. Really, why was he dating her? He didn’t like her.

 

He carried the note from Cameron around in his backpack, and the worry stone in his pocket. Quinn saw Cameron in the halls, and tried to smile or get his attention or something—anything—but Cameron gave no acknowledgement.

 

Zach had come back, and Quinn had to admit he was openly avoiding him. He didn’t want to hear about how Cameron had gone to the administration for the silly string incident.

 

Quinn kept to himself during the practice, trying to avoid the coach’s eyes that seemed to be following him. Tuesday, the coach came up to him again after hills. “How are you feeling?” Quinn shrugged kept his eyes down. “Okay. Not best. Going again tomorrow.”

 

“That’s good.” The coach mumbled and went back to the shed. Quinn pulled himself up off the ground and hobbled out to his car. He had a voicemail from his mother, asking him to pick up some corn from the store on his way home. Quinn rinsed and changed before heading to the store.

 

Quinn peeled back the husks of corn, checking the kernels methodically. He glanced around self-consciously, eyes halting on Cameron. Even from behind, it was obviously him. Quinn stared openly, hands no longer working on the corn.

 

He was with some older woman, maybe his mother? She had dark brown hair down to around her shoulders and had a few inches of height on Cameron, but that was all Quinn could make out of her.

 

Quinn looked away quickly when they came in his direction, stopping at the corn bin. Quinn tensed, Cameron fell obviously quiet.

 

“Hey,” Quinn offered meekly. Cameron snorted and looked away. “

 

Hey.” Cameron replied flatly.

 

The woman glanced between the two. “Cameron?” She questioned, elbowing him expectantly in the side. Cameron rolled his eyes.

 

“Mom, this Quinn. He goes to my school,” Cameron explained vaguely.

 

The woman held her hand out openly to Quinn. “Nice to meet you,” She greeted. Quinn nodded and shook her hand. Cameron hadn’t told her much, or she wouldn’t be so friendly. Did she know Cameron was gay?

 

Cameron and his mom went back to their own conversation, and Quinn bagged the rest of the corn for his own family. Quinn nodded his good-bye to the two, getting nothing from Cameron. Quinn paid and left, retreating to his car.

 

He just sat, clutching onto the steering wheel numbly. His mother called again, trying to see what was taking so long. Quinn drove home after that, Cameron still in his head. He could have initiated more conversation… could have said more than just, “hey.” Maybe ask, casually, what they were having for dinner that night and get invited over. Quinn forced a laugh. That was just wishful thinking, of course. Like Cameron would ever let that happen.

 

Quinn arrived at home and handed off the corn to his mother and upstairs to shower. He mingled around in his room before finally collapsing onto his bed.

 

Claire came in after a knock, giving a wary look. “You okay, sweetie?”

 

“Fine,” Quinn grunted. “…Well remember you see Allen tomorrow at seven. Do you want me to drive you?” She asked.

 

“No, I’ll drive myself this time.” Quinn pushed himself up to sit. “Dinner?”

 

“Yeah it’s ready,” Claire answered quietly.

 

***

 

Quinn waited out in the lobby of Allen’s office. The place was quiet, and the receptionist was busy at her desk. Quinn perked up when a woman left out of Allen’s office, and they both exchanged a self-conscious look.

 

Allen came out and waved Quinn back into his office. “How’ve you been?” Allen asked casually.

 

Quinn shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I ran into Cameron yesterday at the store.”

 

“And how’d that go?”

 

“He didn’t want to acknowledge me, but I still tried to talk to him. It didn’t work.” Quinn admitted sullenly.

 

“And what did you do after that?” Allen asked.

 

“I sat in my car for a little while.” Quinn shrugged. “Until my mom called, wondering where I was.”

 

“So you tend to want to be alone after something with Cameron, then?” Allen pointed out. “First time was because of silly string… what happened two weeks ago?”

 

Quinn shifted uneasily on his chair. Obviously he could get in more trouble for what he had done. “I… you can’t do anything about it if it already happened, right?”

 

Allen cocked his head off to the side. “Depends on the seriousness of it.”

 

Quinn sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, hands covered with his face. “After the silly string time, Cameron started getting there before everyone else and changing… waiting until we all left the locker room after, before he changed. I… I went back to the locker room after I knew he was in there.” Quinn swallowed hard. “I just wanted to talk to him or something. I didn’t even think it through. But he didn’t see me come in, and so I… I used his shirt to blindfold him.” Quinn sent a look up at Allen, who remained professionally stoic. “I made him suck me off.”

 

“Blowjob?” Allen clarified.

 

Quinn made a small noise in his throat, nodding blankly. No matter how he worded it, it still sounded vulgar.

 

“He dropped the class the Monday after that. He uh… taped a note to the lockers, too, where I had…” Quinn fell silent at that.

 

“What did the note say?” Allen asked.

 

Quinn rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn’t taken it with him, but he had memorized most of it. “ ‘I don’t understand why you did that to me. Maybe because I’m gay and you hate me for it, and think you can use me? Or maybe you’re gay yourself and just can’t face it. I’m not going to judge you or out you… if you can’t confront anyone else about it, at least have the decency to confront me. If you hate me, at least have the damned balls to say it to my face like everyone else. I tried to let it go as a prank or loss of control, but I can’t. I’m not just a mouth to fuck.’ “

 

“So why don’t you confront him about it?” Allen offered.

 

“God no!’ Quinn shrieked. “He hates me already. Plus to find out that I did that to him… he’d tell everyone. I’d be so fucked.”

 

“And people knowing you’re gay… that’s what makes you depressed?”

 

“I’m not depressed!” Quinn shouted. “That’s for people with fucked up lives. Death in the family, shit like that.”

 

“Alright, then that's what makes you feel bad.” Allen changed what he called it, but Quinn still knew the man meant depressed.

 

“I don’t… it doesn’t make me depressed. I don’t want to kill myself or anything,” Quinn seethed.

 

“That’s not what depression is, Quinn.” Allen looked down to his clipboard. “Sleeping too much, feeling hopeless, having trouble concentrating… plus the anxiousness, those are all signs of depression.”

 

Quinn scowled and said nothing to that.

 

“You said you’ve had those feelings for a while, right? Just they’ve gotten worse lately. When did you first start to experience them?” Allen prodded.

 

Quinn sighed. “I don’t know. All last year.”

 

“And when did you first come to terms with your sexuality?”

 

“Freshman and sophomore year… kind of. Wasn’t really interested in girls. And then my friends started to make fun of gay people, just crude jokes or pranks on some of them at school and it freaked me out.” Quinn ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Allen was calling him depressed, regardless.

 

“How many people know you’re gay?” Allen asked. Quinn glared up at the man.

 

“You,” He snapped.

 

“That’s it?” Allen raised an eyebrow, and Quinn looked away guiltily.

 

“You should try to confront Cameron about it,” Allen suggested. “If he’s any example, there are some people out there that will accept it.”

 

“Not my friends, and all of Cameron’s friends hate me too,” Quinn protested. “I’d be fucking alone.”

 

Allen nodded mutely, writing something down on his clipboard. He glanced at the clock. “Well I think that’s all for now.” He tore off a paper from his clipboard, and led Quinn out into the office. “Will you put this in an envelope please?” He asked the receptionist.

 

“What is it?” Quinn questioned defensively. Allen forced a smile. “A prescription for you. I want you to pass it on to your mom for me.”

 

“I’m not depressed!” Quinn snapped again. “And you’re just a therapist, you can’t—“

 

“A psychiatrist can prescribe medications,” Allen interrupted. “So I’m putting you on an anti-depressant. It’ll take about six weeks to kick in, and you’ll take one each night before bed. Okay?” He clapped a hand over Quinn’s shoulder. No, that was not okay. Quinn didn’t want to.

 

“And I’ll call your mother tomorrow and make sure you gave this to her.” Allen handed over the envelope. There went Quinn’s chance of just losing it accidentally. He stared down at it in mute horror.

 

“My dad’s going to think I’m weak. He already does for all of this,” Quinn croaked out. Allen softened slightly. “We can talk about that next week, okay? You should be getting home, it’s dark out.”

 

Quinn stuffed the package into his pocket, feeling the worry stone. He pulled that out along with his car keys.

 

***

 

Quinn stared blankly at the orange prescription bottle with a two months supply of pills inside. The label had some strange medication name on it, the real name of the medication, not “Prozac” or anything else Quinn recognized. Besides, all the ones shown on TV were for adults anyways.

 

Allen had called, like he said, making sure Claire knew about it. On Thursday she’d gone out and come home with the pills, from whatever dispensary. Had she just gotten them from a regular doctor’s office? Quinn didn’t know. Now he was on his first day of being on the medication. He had taken one the night before, but didn’t feel any different.

 

Six weeks, Allen had said. What about until then?

 

Quinn was just glad it was Friday, and that he would have the whole weekend to avoid people. He closed his eyes in frustration. That was part of the problem.

 

He finished up in the bathroom and went out to his car, driving to school. Still, he didn’t feel any different throughout the day. If he was supposed to be taking the stupid medication, it should kick in faster. He hated the feelings he was still having.

 

Quinn saw Cameron sparsely in the halls. Confront him? Quinn sighed to himself. Should he tell the coach he was taking anti-depressants now? He didn’t want anyone to know, but then what if it affected him badly or something? Quinn caught the coach alone at the start of seventh period, in his little sports office. “I got put on some medication.” He mumbled. “Anti-depressant. Just… so you know.”

 

The coach forced a smile. “That's good you’re working on it, then.” Quinn shrugged, again, wishing it would kick in already so it felt like he was “working on it”.

 

Zach’s ranting was kept to a minimum since the coach was still Quinn’s partner. That much Quinn was grateful for. After the class Quinn changed into regular clothes, hoping he could avoid Lizzie before practice. He mentally kicked himself for that. He should be trying to socialize or…

 

Cameron.

 

He was walking towards Quinn, but too busy listening to his music and staring down at his iPod to notice. Quinn ducked into an alcove of classrooms and out of sight until Cameron passed. Quinn snuck up behind the teen and pulled him back into the alcove.

 

Cameron fought instantly, but Quinn had his hand over the other’s mouth[IH1] . “Relax,” Quinn hissed, trying to take a deep breath. “Just give me a second.” He stared out at a point on the wall above Cameron’s head.

 

Quinn chewed on his lip for a moment. “…I’m gay.” He admitted quietly. Cameron squirmed in his arms again. “And I’m sorry for what I did to you that Friday. I like you.”

 

He let Cameron go at that, and Cameron spun around. The shock at seeing Quinn was brief on his face before it turned into a scowl. “You’re a dick,” He stated firmly. Quinn looked down guiltily.

 

“You scared the hell out of me. How was I supposed know you were just going to stop at forcing your cock down my throat?” Cameron seethed.

 

Quinn was trying to force his mouth to work. “I’m sorry,” He finally repeated.

 

Cameron grabbed onto the front of Quinn’s shirt and yanked him down. Quinn closed his eyes for pain, but instead felt the chaste brush of Cameron’s lips over his own. Quinn snapped his eyes open in shock, looking down at the still sour look on Cameron’s face.

 

“What—“

 

"That's all you get, now go start liking someone else," Cameron hissed and stormed off.

(2011)(iThreat/Damond)
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Yes it is strange to rape someone you like. Personally I would have given Cameron my phone number and asked him to call me and then give a better, detailed explanation (in person, but away from school).

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