[Art; She's 22 by Norah Jones]

This took forever but it's dedicated to SuperheroesAndSprite because she's the reason I was up until 1 am, reading her books and laughing so...

word count: 2025
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I was completely and utterly wrong about my day being uneventful.

It'd been after school when I'd gotten a glimpse of Quinn again. She'd sat beside me on the bus as I busied myself by staring out the window. After bombing my Spanish test and stuttering through an oral presentation on The Cold War, I honestly just wanted to go home and lay down because my head was screaming at me and there was a war going on in my stomach that could rival the hunger games.

I felt like shit as I leaned back and ignored the guilt I felt due to not engaging in a conversation with the girl beside me. Honestly, disliking her presence hadn't become that big of thing for me anymore as I'd realized that she wasn't all that bad but with James Bay blasting through my earbuds, I was enjoying the slight lullaby.

My head was leant up against the window as I attempted to force myself not to fall asleep knowing that it had happened before and my brothers hadn't thought twice about leaving me on the bus. Shifting a bit, I pulled one of my earphones out and attempted conversation in order to keep myself awake. It started with a simple "hi."

Quinn took the bait almost instantly, droning on and on about the fact that she'd loved the jacket nestled in my lap and how much she wanted to do my eyebrows for me. To say I regretted dangling conversation in front of her in the first place was extremely true.

Still, I felt myself listening as we got on the topic of music, her voice light and bright, contrasting her dark brown eyes that had centered on me. I yawned as she spoke, "What's your favorite band?"

"You'd call me a poser if I told you." Everyone did, even my parents had laughed when I'd used my Christmas money a few years back and purchased every song available, every track, every unplugged version, all of it. People didn't understand me, which, coincidentally was so very angsty teenager for a guy who enjoyed angsty music.

"I won't," Quinn smiled, lips stretching in that trustworthy grin and eyes twinkling as if she were an angel sent from the most high, "honest."

I shrugged as if my borderline obsession hadn't meant much to me, leaning further into my seat as I listened to the soft sounds of  Rhett flirting up a storm with the girl who sat beside him. She seemed nice enough, engaging in his babble. "Nirvana," I spoke, eyes landing back on the blue material of the seat in front of me. We were close to my house, I knew that, then I could nap and maybe catch up on the trending movies on Netflix,  "I have a soft spot for their unplugged performances."

Quinn nodded, "I only know two songs but I know Kurt's voice is gravely, quite sexy if you ask me."

I shrugged at that, realizing that I couldn't connect with Quinn on music like I'd hoped but I couldn't deny the fact: some of the bad had attracted me. Maybe it was the rebel in me that just wanted to come out sort of how a teenage boy comes out of the closet but I had to admit that maybe I liked listening to something I hadn't achieved: complete and total not-giving-a-fuckery.

I couldn't be more relieved when the bus had stopped, ending my self-dissection and prompting Quinn to quit her interrogation. I'd waited until the other people getting off the stop had left before I stood, a buzzing sound heard from the girl beside me.

Pulling out her phone, Quinn sighed before rolling her  brown eyes and making her way into the isle. I know I shouldn't have cared but for some reason, I wanted to know why she was annoyed... Maybe that was the human decency in me.

"You okay?" I couldn't help but ask it, biting my lip slightly and keeping my eyes down as I became trapped in between Quinn and Rhett. I tried not to feel completely claustrophobic.

"Yeah," she sighed when we started moving a bit faster and before I knew it, we were both stepping off the bus, my brothers behind and Rhett grinning about something that I hadn't cared to know about. I watched Vince grab his arm and drag him across the street mumbling something along the lines of 'she's so not into you.'

And then it was just me and the girl with white converse, her eyes trained on the house across the street. I hadn't expected her to speak, "Dalton's just going to be a rather difficult."

I nodded and as if on cue, the bleach blonde boy had graced us with his presence, stumbling down the street. He'd seemed dizzy as he mustn't have noticed us and continued to hobble towards his house.

Quinn and I had watched him walk up the stairs in a plain white tee and some dark jeans, cuffed to show a bit of ankle. His all white air maxs had a bit of dirt on them as he stumbled towards the railing and emptied the contents of his stomach over it and into an unsuspecting flower pot.

Quinn winced.

"Oh, hell."

I knew I'd regret going home and leaving her to deal with him all alone just an much as I'd regret offering to help. Still, I could help her usher him inside before he gave my nosey German neighbor, Sven, something to watch and report to neighborhood watch. "Would you like some help?"

"Please?" And I nodded at that, following her a little ways down the street and passed exactly three houses since the stop was on the corner. I'd trailed her until we'd gotten to the front door Dalton had left swung open in a hasty and uncaring trot.

We'd found him puking his guts up in the first floor bathroom trash can as it seemed he hadn't been able to make it to the toilet. His crystal eyes were glued shut as he gripped the sides of the can, hugging it for dear life. The sight was both sad and sickening.

Quinn instantly dropped to her knees beside him, running a hand down his back and then back up through his hair as I sat there awkwardly. There was a certain ease in her actions as if they'd done this before and I shuffled my feet.

I was very much a socially awkward person and having to watch such an intimate and mildly nauseating scene had my stomach in knots and my finger in my mouth as I chewed on my nail.

And after Dalton had finished vomiting and Quinn had dumped the can down the toilet, he'd leaned back against the toilet, crystal eyes glossed over and a layer of sweat on his face. Dalton's hair was messy, most likely from all the rubbing Quinn had did and his lips were chapped. The front of his shirt wasn't all that clean either but Quinn didn't mind as she yanked it off, leaving his slightly defined abdomen on show.

His collarbones were prominent and he had a slight four-pack which would've gotten me a bit hard if it weren't for the fact that Quinn was slowly washing him up and there were visible tear-tracks on his flushed face.

"Where were you?"

He shrugged although it seemed at if he didn't want to talk about it, "Went to a rager, Q." His voice was more gritty than before as her hand, that didn't have the wash cloth in if, came to rub his face softly with a frown.

"Dally." And once again I felt like an intruder.

"I lost the game though, guy was a bloody wuss about it." I didn't know what he was talking about but Quinn nodded, standing to wash the rag out in the sink. Her lips were pursed as she took care of him like a mother and left the rag to dry on a towel rack. She squatted a little, reaching out to grab his arm and helping him up.

"Is that why you look like shite?" She'd asked once he'd gotten to his feet and she swung his arm around her shoulder, motioning for me to help which I quickly obliged before she toppled over underneath him.

I'd had a steady grip on his waist, feeling the heat of his skin on mine and had to hold back a moan at the warmth. He was hot, literally, burning up and it felt nice. I felt the vibration of his low chuckle as we walked back towards the front of the house,"I promised I'd fuck his mum before I left and he went mad."

Quinn had backed up a little as I gripped Dalton tighter and dropped him as gentle as possible on the olive-green couch, nearly falling over with him. He laughed a little, "You're pretty." His hand extended to tug on one of my curls, a blush making its way up to my cheeks.

I coughed, "Uh... What?"

"He's a bit hammered," Quinn excused as she made her way into the kitchen, stating she was getting his very much-needed water.

"Oh, sod off!" He tossed over his shoulder, reaching for my hand that I hadn't realized was still placed on his arm and he laced his fingers through mine, "Gabe-y, baby."

I'd never felt more excited and uncomfortable as I had in that moment.

I felt a tug, not noticing until Dalton had pulled me onto him awkwardly, I was still partially standing. His breath smelled of alcohol and vomit which was unpleasant to say the least as I pulled away, "Dalton... I think you need some water-"

"I need to fuck." He interrupted me and at that moment, I couldn't care less about bad breath, my mind going to more unholy things as Dalton bit on his lip.

But then I realized he was drunk and I wasn't interested and I really just needed to go home and maybe jerk off for an hour and a half.

"Dally." Quinn had entered as I was distancing myself, two bottles of water in her hand, I realized how much I was unneeded and Dalton would probably forget this by the morning anyways.

"My head hurts," he'd whined softly when she'd handed him the bottle of water."

Taking the bottle of aspirin I hadn't noticed she'd been carrying, she opened it and poured two tablets into her hand. "C'mon."

Dalton sighed as he took the pills and opened his water, tossing them both back in one go. And he looks sadder if that was possible, "My chest hurts, too."

"I know, Dally," she cuddled into his chest as his blank eyes closed. He was only slightly shaking as he wrapped an arm around her, breath hitching slightly. Quinn smiled sadly up at me, lips closed and eyes struggling to hold that brightness she possessed, "Gabe, want something to drink?"

I didn't even get the chance to respond and decline when Dalton started crying, if seemed as if he were attempting to hold back his years as he broke. We hadn't expected it, we really hadn't, Quinn sitting up as I tried to move forwards but thought better of it. Dalton's voice was above a whisper as he looked into his best friend's eyes, voice quivering, "It hurts."

"What hurts?" I injected, hoping he wasn't in any physical pain but when he looked up at me, eyes shattered, I knew it was deeper than that.

"Everything," he dismissed, cloudy eyes entrancing mine as tears flowed down his cheeks, tan, manicured hands trying to brush them away only to be refreshed with new ones, "I miss her."

I was too far in to ever forget the sadness in his eyes and the way his voice cracked.