Best And Worst of Me - 9. Chapter 9

Quinn was freaked out Friday after school. Practice went okay, but Quinn spent the whole time waiting. Even if it had been after school, he still worried that Cameron had spread it around, somehow.

 

It was never mentioned. Quinn sat and waited in his car after the practice. His extra hills had finished the day before, so he just sat. He turned on his iPod.

 

I can't believe I didn't say this sooner

I'll just believe that I was all displaced

I'll get to speaking, let you know how I feel

I'll get to judging, make you see my appeal

 

No one will ever see things the way I do

No one will try

All my friends think that I'm gone

But I swear, I swear I'm not...

 

This makes me feel that I'll never be quite normal

This makes me act like I'll never get out alive

I'll get to acting, make you all believe me

I'll get to faking, show you all how to grieve

 

(Lyrics belong to The Almost, Say This Sooner)

 

Quinn put the song on repeat, closing his eyes to the song. It followed Quinn in the car for the ride home. Claire made him jump on his way in the door, surprising him with a loud shriek.

 

Instantly noticing his attitude, she switched topics from dinner to Allen. “I set you up for twice a week. Wednesday’s and Saturday’s every week. So tomorrow at nine.”

 

Quinn nodded gratefully and joined the rest of his family for dinner. He was thankful for his sister’s presence, aiding to avoid the subject that he was now on medication. His sister skittered off later to work on homework.

 

“So you started taking anti-depressants?” His father snapped.

 

“Roy, watch it,” Claire warned with a smack on the arm. He sent her a look and huffed.

 

“I don’t see why the hell he needs it! Everything is fine.”

 

“Honey, that’s not how these things work! It’s all chemicals in the brain. It doesn’t mean something happened, but it doesn’t help if he’s concerned that you’ll call him weak for it, Roy. You think that helps?” Claire snapped at him.

 

Quinn sunk guiltily into his chair. His mother had repeated one of his excuses, and now his father was furious. “Quinn, sweetie, go upstairs.” Claire added and shooed him off. Quinn was happy to leave, but loud voices still carried up the stairs.

 

He returned to the safety of his iPod inside his bedroom, playing loud and probably killing his ears, but he didn’t care. In the bathroom, he popped one of the pills back into his mouth and chased it with water. Did his sister know about these yet? Should he be hiding them?

 

There had to be something to make it work faster.

 

Quinn slammed the medicine cabinet shut, trapping the pill bottle inside and stormed out of the bathroom.

 

***

 

Quinn curled up in the chair of Allen’s office. “The pills aren’t helping any,” He snapped.

 

“They’ll take some time,” Allen soothed. “Anything you want to talk about? Last time you mentioned your father…”

 

“I talked to Cameron yesterday,” Quinn wanted to talk about that, more. “I… apologized, told him I was gay. Admitted what I did to him. Said I liked him.”

 

“And how did he handle that?” Allen asked.

 

“He… kissed me, then told me that’s all I would get and I should like someone else. Explained that… he didn’t know if I was going to stop at just what I did. Scared him.”

 

“So he thought you were going to rape him?” Allen clarified.

 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t going to. It was… his boyfriend had broken up with him a few days before. I knew he was single, and knew I could get him alone in the locker room. I wanted to talk to him at first, but I wanted to… touch him, too.”

 

“Do you masturbate to him? Wet dreams?” Allen pressed.

 

Quinn blushed deeply. “No. Not directly.”

 

“Not directly?” Allen repeated. Quinn groaned with embarrassment.

 

“Porn. There are some out there that kind of look like him.”

 

“And… what you did to him, would you do it again?”

 

“No. Not like that. I wouldn’t force him into that again,” Quinn protested. “I just couldn’t… I just want something with him.”

 

“Would you be satisfied with anything he gave you? Acknowledging you, talking to you, friendship. Could you be content with that if that’s all he gave you—nothing intimate?” Allen crossed his legs.

 

Quinn chewed on the inside of his lip. “I would be okay with it.”

 

“You say that now, but say he became your friend. First you would want to spend more time with him… then touch him. Just a little. Maybe try to kiss him. He turns you away. You get mad…” Allen let the rest open to imagination.

 

“No!” Quinn protested again. “I wouldn’t do that to him. I’m not some sick pervert who fantasizes that we’re meant for each other. I just want to be with him any way I can.” Quinn blushed at his own words. “And I know I fucked it up, okay? But I still like him.”

 

“If he was your friend, and you introduce him to your parents. You’re not dating him, but he is openly gay. Could you deal with the suspicion? Your friend is gay. Are you?” Quinn swallowed hard. “See? You don’t want to be pinned as gay. You want a relationship with him. You can’t have both.” Allen nailed it.

 

Quinn knew he couldn’t have both, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t want, right? There was nothing wrong with wanting. Allen took Quinn’s long pause as the subject being over.

 

“So your father… you’re concerned about what he thinks. Maybe you’re so focused on measuring up, not looking “weak,” that the pressure is making you depressed.”

 

“I’m not d—“

 

Allen cut him off with a wave of the hand. “You deny it so strongly, but in your generation, depression is almost glorified… obviously not in your father’s eyes, though. Tough it up kind of man?”

 

“Well… yeah.” Quinn shrugged.

 

“And he’s tried to instill that in you. Man’s man. Man’s sport—football. Cheerleader girlfriend. Lot’s of friends,” Allen rattled off all of the expectations.

 

“My dad doesn’t make me do any of that.” Quinn pointed out.

 

“Well, he can’t make you, but what kind of man are you if you don’t have a girlfriend? You’re trying to live up to his expectations. A real man,” Allen stressed. Quinn pursed his lips stubbornly. “Gay men aren’t any less of a man, you know,” Allen continued thoughtfully.

 

“I’m not telling my dad,” Quinn snapped.

 

Allen sighed and glanced at the clock. “And that’s all we have for today,” He finished.

 

Quinn was happy to leave with that, dropping the topic of his dad and going home. He retreated into his room and pulled out the previous years yearbook. He flipped to the dog-eared page of W’s, immediately going to Cameron’s picture. He could still want. He traced the picture fondly. Quinn had to think of something to get close to Cameron, but no one would help him. Quinn had to figure out a way to court Cameron.

 

Quinn jumped and closed the yearbook when his mother came in. “Learn to knock!” Quinn hissed childishly, shoving the yearbook back onto a shelf.

 

“What’s that?” Claire questioned.

 

“Nothing!” Quinn snapped.

 

Claire sighed and sat next to him on the bed. “How are things working for you with Allen?”

 

“Fine. Better, I guess,” Quinn mumbled. He could pursue Cameron more honestly now. Try talking to him in the halls or something.

 

“Well, Lizzie is downstairs,” Claire informed. Quinn clenched his hands, trying not to feel trapped.

“You want me to tell her you aren’t feeling good?” Claire suggested.

 

No, that wasn’t fair to Lizzie. “I’ll go.” Quinn hobbled up from his bed, looking back at his mother suspiciously. “You coming?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll just grab your laundry. Go ahead.” She popped up from the bed and started to pick clothes off the floor. Quinn nodded and went downstairs. Lizzie was in the door way with Roy, talking brightly about something.

 

“Hey,” Quinn interrupted their conversation.

 

“Lizzie here was just telling me about her brother in Iraq,” Roy announced proudly. “His duties are appreciated.” Roy commented and gave Quinn a nod, leaving the two to talk.

 

“What’s up?” Quinn asked.

 

“Well, we haven’t hung outside of school much lately.” Lizzie pouted. “So I was thinking we could go out.”

 

“Well…”

 

“Quinn needs to help me around the house,” Claire announced, coming down the stairs. “Quinn, go get your sister’s laundry for me.”

 

Quinn gawped at her. He didn’t know how to do laundry, and his sister would kill him for touching her bras and panties. She was still super shy about that with guys, even if he was her brother. Roy gave his wife much the same look of shock.

 

“Oh,” Lizzie huffed. “Alright then. Maybe another time.”

 

Quinn said good-bye and gave her a chaste kiss. He showed her to the door and looked back at his mother. “Now really, go get your sisters laundry for me.” Claire smiled.

 

“Now Quinn—“ Roy started angrily, as Quinn fled up the stairs. “Is the main reason I have to do laundry so much in the fall! The least he could do is help, unlike you,” Claire bit out. Roy stormed up the stairs after Quinn.

 

Quinn grabbed his sister’s laundry basket timidly, avoiding her as she shrieked at him. “What are you doing?”

 

He fled into the laundry room to set it out. “Get the whites out of the dryer, will you?” Claire started to load colors into the washer. Quinn did so obediently, not sure if a thanks were in order for getting him out of what ever with Lizzie.

 

“So,” Claire chirped. “Cameron.”

 

Quinn hesitated. “…What about him?” He asked carefully.

 

“You never want to go out with Lizzie,” Claire continued. “You looked scared to death after what you and your friends did to Cameron, and you have his page dog-eared in last year’s yearbook.”

 

Quinn looked at her in horror. What was he supposed to say now? She’d stayed in his room to see what he had been looking at! He wanted to be mad, but he was too stunned that it came up.

 

“Quinn,” Her voice softened. “Do you like Cameron?” Quinn flinched and went back to pulling whites out of the dryer. “Quinn.” His mother repeated. “Sweetie, it’s fine.”

 

“Not for dad!” Quinn snapped. “Even… Even Allen pointed that out! That I’m trying to live up to his expectations and shit like that.”

 

Claire sighed and closed the washer lid, turning dials. The water started to churn away in the machine. “Do you like football?”

 

Quinn shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it, but…”

 

“You don’t love it,” Claire filled in, thrumming her fingers on top of the washer, the other hand fisted on her hip. “You know, I don’t mind if you… want to bring Cameron home.”

 

“We’re not dating. He hates me anyways, for all the stuff I did to him with Zach. And besides, dad would flip.”

 

“You should talk to your father, then.” Claire forced a smile.

 

“No,” Quinn hissed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mom, especially with Dad. I don’t want him to know.”

 

***

 

Monday came around, and the morning passed without any rumors of Quinn’s sexuality. He was grateful for that, and sought Cameron out during lunch. He was with his friends, which most turned to glare at Quinn’s approach.

 

“You want to come to lunch with me?” Quinn asked, pointedly to Cameron.

 

“Seriously?” Cameron asked incredulously.

 

Quinn shrugged, offering a meek smile. “Yeah.”

 

“No,” Cameron snapped, hopping off the table. “Come here.” He motioned for Quinn to follow, and headed towards the vending machines, absent of other people. Cameron turned furiously. “Did you not hear what I said on Friday?”

 

“I did,” Quinn stated.

 

“So then why the hell are you asking me out?” Cameron seethed.

 

“I’m not asking you out. Well, not romantically. We can just go out to lunch,” Quinn explained.

 

Cameron chuckled mirthlessly. “Did you forget the part where you attacked me in the locker room?”

 

Quinn flinched. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Like that kind of stuff just happens?” Cameron squared his shoulders.

 

“I only wanted to talk to you!” Quinn pleaded. “But I just… then I wanted to touch you. And…” Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”

 

Cameron set his jaw. “The cowardly shot into the temple… burn the evidence, flee the scene. Always keep those fingers clean*. That’s what you do, right? Fuck. Off.”

 

Quinn stalled for a moment, recognizing the familiar words. Cameron turned to leave. “Wait, shit. I’ve taken a life and mine for granted,” He rushed out, running the song in his head. Cameron looked over his shoulder, half confused and half shocked. “Riddled with guilt and crazy panic, my body tells my mind to run, into the forest*… I couldn’t help it,” He pleaded for understanding. He’d run to his trip into Grand Lake.

 

*(Lyrics belong to Circa Survive, Fever Dreams)

 

Cameron closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Just because you know what song I was quoting doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you,” He snapped.

 

“Cameron, please just give me a chance at something. Anything. Hang out or… I don’t want to hurt you again.”

 

Cameron sucked in another breath, trying to control himself. “Fine. If you fucking touch me, I will rip your balls off and nail them to the wall.” He pointed his finger as a warning.

 

“Lunch?” Quinn asked hopefully.

 

“Already ate.” Cameron pointed to the lunch line. He never said he was going to make it easy for Quinn. “Fine, then. After school? Movies?” Quinn offered.

 

“Doesn’t a certain someone have practice?” Cameron pointed out.

 

“After. We can see like a seven or eight move, and I can pick you up—“

 

“I can drive myself,” Cameron interjected. “And I’m paying for my own ticket. And the armrest is mine, and you do not touch it. And, no knee-bumping either. No making a move.”

 

Quinn agreed, trying not to look too happy. This justified something further. “Can I have your phone number?”

 

Cameron scowled and didn’t answer right away. “Only because there’s no other fucking way to set up the details.”

 

***

 

“This isn’t a date,” Cameron stated for the third time.

 

“I know,” Quinn said.

 

“So stop looking so god damn happy,” Cameron snapped, stalking ahead a few feet and handing his ticket to the employee. She directed him to the theater, and he took off.

 

Quinn jogged to catch up. “So why did you break up with your boyfriend?”

 

Cameron sent him another glare. “Why?”

 

“Just wondering. You two looked happy together, and then… yeah.” Quinn shrugged. Cameron sighed and looked away.

 

“We were dating, but it was mostly because there wasn’t a lot of other options. And he found someone else he liked. Why are you dating Lizzie?”

 

Quinn looked down at his feet, walking into the dim lit theater. “ Because I’m supposed to.”

 

“You aren’t supposed to do anything,” Cameron sighed. “If she doesn’t make you happy, then fuck her. She’s a bitch anyways.”

 

Quinn was somewhat appalled by the mouth on Cameron. He wasn’t sure if that’s how Cameron was, always, or just because they were talking about Lizzie. “You know her?”

 

“I know she asked me out on a prank,” Cameron mumbled. “So she doesn’t like me.”

 

Cameron planted himself into a seat in the very top row, in the center under the projector. Quinn sat next to him, hands obediently in his lap. “So you listen to Circa Survive…” Quinn began awkwardly.

 

“Yes. You should listen to Blood on the Dance Floor, by the way.” Cameron suggested.

 

“I already do,” Quinn remarked happily.

 

“You know Jayy is gay, right?” Cameron continued.

 

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the reason I listen to them,” Quinn said.

 

“Then you’re pathetic,” Cameron hissed.

 

Quinn fumbled. What had he said? “Why?”

 

“Because, if you’ve seen interviews with them, all their music is about being yourself. If you listen to them and are still hiding in the closet, then you’re just pathetic, especially if Jayy is part of the reason. I mean, he’s fucking amazing. He should be your goddamned idol.”

 

“Because he’s out?” Quinn asked.

 

“Because he’s out and doesn’t give a shit about what people think of him.”

 

Quinn sunk back into his seat. “I… I’m not completely in the closet.” He mumbled. His mother had about freaked when she found out who he was going to the movies with. She wouldn’t stop trying to talk about Cameron now.

 

“Oh really?” Cameron mused. “My mom. You. My… therapist.”

 

“Therapy?” Cameron seemed more honestly interested now. “Yeah. After what I did to you, I ran off for a weekend. My mom wanted me to see a therapist, because she said I had been moody anyways. All this school year.”

 

“And?” Cameron pressed. Quinn bit his lip. “And he said I’m depressed, and I’m on medication.”

 

“Depression doesn’t make you do things like that,” Cameron stated.

 

“I know. But… it was before that, even. Since I first kind of realized I was… gay. I felt under pressure, and a bunch of other things, which he said were symptoms of depression,” Quinn explained quietly, hoping like hell for the movie to start already.

 

Cameron shifted in his seat. “Zach would probably kick your ass if he found out.”

 

“I know,” Quinn lowered his voice. “And you and your friends don’t like me, so after that… I’d be alone. It scares me.”

 

Cameron didn’t respond to that. The movie started a few minutes later, distracting them both. Cameron left once to buy himself snacks from the concession stand, returning to toss a bag of Skittles at Quinn. “Taste the rainbow,” He hissed, of course, with more meaning to the rainbow part. Quinn chuckled uneasily and started to pop the candies into his mouth.

 

Once the movie was over, it was already nearing ten and the sun was long gone. Outside the theater, Cameron hopped up onto one of the railings and slid down the stairs. Quinn jogged down the stairs to catch up.

 

“Well, tell your therapist I say hi.” Cameron waved and headed off to his own car.

 

Quinn was disappointed they didn’t hang out more after the movie, but he wasn’t going to complain. At least he had gotten a chance.