Scars

Taking Chances

Quentin got the knife he'd stolen from the kitchen from under his mattress.

It wasn't very sharp, and it was dirty. Say what you will about the physical kids, gifted would most likely be the word you use, sloppy a close second.

He held it up and expected it to gleam in the moonlight, or something equally poetic. It was still just a knife, and he still ached for it. So once again, knife stashed under his layers, he ran to that fucking payphone.

"Julia?"

"Q, oh my God. Don't leave I'm just, glad to hear your voice."

"Yeah I uh, kinda, need it right now?"

"You have no idea Q. Look I know your upstate but are you busy tonight? It's only like 7 you could still get to the city. I think maybe we should talk like, actually?"

Quentin had nothing to lose accept a goodbye.

"I'll be there in maybe an hour."

"How would you get here that fast-"

Quentin hung up.

***

The portal didn't take long to cast. It was a bitch to cast, but beat taking the train and Quentin had also realized with no tuition and no job, he didn't really have the money for a ticket either. Portal worked anyhow, and he was standing under the dreary sky in front of Julia's apartment, anxious to get inside in case that sky decided to fall.

She buzzed him in, he went up the stairs, and let out a heavy sigh into Julia's arms. She was warm, she was familiar. Quentin then realized he wasn't sure if this was a mistake or not.

Julia's apartment was overrun, and he could see her hair was dyed black, bags heavy under her eyes with smudges of long since overworn makeup.

"Jules, what happened?"

"Shit, just leave it at that okay. I'm just glad you're here. Come on sit down."

She threw clothes and soda can off her couch that looked to be riddled with stains anyway, to leave just enough room for them to sit.

"So Q, grad school?"

"Yeah it's different. Not like college, but college just kinda felt like high school so, maybe its my first real, change I guess. Are you applying?"

"No, I needed some time away from it."

"And your, okay? Like, actually okay?"

"No Q I'm fine, right now at least. I just decided I wanted to..to be? Well, I guess I wasn't sure. So I have money saved, I'm just trying to figure it out."

"Fair enough."

"So on the phone..Q what's up? I know your Dad usually handles it but do I need to call your doctor? Or like, anyone?"

"I just need you okay. I just, I never really got over some shit that happened in college and I have something really good going on my my stupid brain is fucking it all up."

"Well what's the thing?"

"Uh, someone. Someone who really cares about me. And we kissed and we almost..I just fucked it up okay?" Quentin croaked.

"Whats her name?" She said rubbing his back.

Quentin took a shaking breath, because he had never told anyone before. The words seemed sentiment against his tongue, unruly and brawling. Refusing to stand in line so he could just, tell her.

"It's not a girl is it.."

"Yeah." He stammered out quickly. Having her say it first, he wasn't sure if he felt relieved or cheated.

"I mean, I kinda guessed. You weren't exactly that subtle back in the day."

Quentin let out a pained laugh, "Really?"

"No!" she chuckled, "And you really think I would have stopped loving you because of it?"

That last part stung, because it was true.

"His names Eliot."

"Oh, sounds regal." She jokes, but it looked like her face wasn't used to smiling, the muscles sore and atrophied.

"Yeah he's kinda like that. Very upstanding type. Also kind of dirty."

It felt strange having her know the full story for once. Or well, some more of a story.

"And he found me, doing something bad."

Julia looked him up and down.

"Quentin roll up your sleeves."

"Jules.."

"Fuck. Fuck! Q I'm calling your Dad."

"Jules don't!"

"Quentin, I didn't even know about your depression until what, 2 years ago? Your good at hiding shit when your scared Q. Even you liking guys. I didn't put 2 and 2 together until we were like 18! I'm not taking any fucking chances!"

"I know what's wrong, I can handle it!"

"Just let me help!" Julia had started to cry.

"You've helped enough."

So Quentin went home without another word. And despite what would be everyones best advice, he took a fucking chance.