Heroes of Today

Four

"You say that every time. Yet, we always wind up back with you fixing me up."

"I should stop," Charles shot back. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

Quinn let out a single laugh before doubling over again, clutching his gut as his face twisted in pain. Charles closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.

"Take off your shirt."

Quinn grimaced as he lifted his arms to pull his sweatshirt off. The t-shirt he wore underneath it was blood-stained. He pulled the shirt off, too, revealing that his stomach was red, bloodied, and bruised all over. Whoever had given him his beating had not shied away from the gut punches. Charles turned away, not wanting to look at Quinn anymore. He gripped the edge of the counter, leaning over the sink.

"Who did it," he asked, gaze fixed on the sink drain. When Quinn didn't reply, Charles repeated himself in a rougher tone.

"Everett pissed me off. He got my nose, but that's about it. He'll be hurting for a while," Quinn said with a grimace.

"That doesn't explain what happened to you."

"His dad showed up."

Charles's vision blurred. So Mr. King had beat Quinn up. No wonder he was hurt so bad. "That's child abuse," he mumbled. "We could sue him."

Quinn let out a grunt. "What the hell would the two of us do against him in court? He's one of the most influential men in Maine. We're just a couple of kids who aren't even loved by their legal guardians."

He continued to stare at the bottom of the sink. Behind him, he could hear Quinn's uneven breathing. He swallowed hard before pushing himself from the counter, opening the freezer and grabbing a few ice packs.

"Kris and Glen should be home soon," he muttered. "Let's get you to your room."

Quinn slung his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his shoulder, allowing Charles to help him up the stairs. He eased himself into his own bed.

"You're the best cousin in existence," Quinn said.

But Charles didn't answer, already in the bathroom. He wet a washrag, which he gave to Quinn so he could clean the blood from his stomach. He let Quinn clean himself up, hurrying down the stairs to retrieve a glass of water and the Advil from the kitchen.

Back in Quinn's room, Charles wrapped each of the ice packs in a hand towel, laying them on his cousin's bruises. He waited for Quinn to take the pills before allowing himself to calm down slightly.

"What did Everett do?"

"Not important," Quinn replied. He shut his eyes, leaning against the headboard of his bed.

"Quinn." Charles looked down at him in worry.

"I said it's not important. Just drop it."

"No." He took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It is important, and you can tell me. I'm your cousin."

A muffled sigh escaped Quinn's mouth. He dragged his hands down his face. "Fine. He tried to kiss me."

Charles froze in his place. He'd expected a taunting gone too far, and offensive joke cracked about Michael or Quinn. Something bad, but not something like a kiss.

"Damn, Q," he mumbled. He didn't know what else there was to say. He wanted to go find Everett and beat him up himself after that revelation. "How did it even escalate to that point?"

"Does it matter? The point is that it did, and he got several warnings from myself and other teammates before reaching my breaking point."

"There were bystanders?" Charles's eyes were wide, looking over at Quinn. The latter's eyes were misted over slightly, but he didn't cry.