Murky grey drops of rain water landed on the table as they rolled off Quinn's newly dyed bangs. Pink had, in fact, not resisted, and so he'd slapped on some cheap black box dye quite literally at the last minute, getting it all over his forehead in the process.

Honestly, he'd expected it to look cooler, one big black streak contrasting his blonde hair and pale skin, maybe giving him some kind of mysterious aura. It absolutely didn't look cool. It looked stupid and weird and out of place and his forehead was stained black because he didn't have the time to wash it off properly before getting a text from Shane.

Right, Shane. The reason Quinn was now sitting in that familiar café he's had dozens of dates at, soaked in rain because the skies were clear when he left the house and dark grey when he'd gotten out of the subway.

Shane had texted. Invited him for a quick chat at the café and probably a last goodbye before Quinn was finally shipped off to Oakwell for good. And then they'd go long distance. Quinn had already attempted to romanticise it in his head, the secret late night phone calls and letters and 'I miss you' selfies sent every day, the hugging a pillow and pretending it was him.

If he thought about it like that, it didn't even seem all that bad. Maybe Shane would text him more often like that. Maybe distance would actually bring them closer.

A young waitress placed a glass of matcha latte in front of Quinn, and he thanked her with a nod before pulling out his phone to check for any messages. Last one was sent six minutes ago. 'i'm there, see u'. He sighed, sipped on his overpriced drink. Not something he could usually afford, but this was his last day in London. He deserved an overpriced treat.

People passed the café's windows, rushing past it or strolling along going about their rainy Friday afternoon, students enjoying their last weekend before school would start again. Some looked in, spotted Quinn, maybe wondered why that café let in wet dogs like him.

None of them, though, not a single one knew that Quinn wasn't just some wet dog. He had a scholarship at Oakwell Abbey. And none of these people knew! None of them could praise him for it or think highly of him because of it, because all they did was pass the café and ignore him.

Quinn took another sip, the hot drink warming his body. Grace always said that matcha tastes like grass. Maybe Quinn just liked grass, though. Maybe he was actually meant to be a cow. Seriously, what would be more chill than being a cow? Being a cat, probably. Or just a tiny little moth. But a moth couldn't get an Oakwell Scholarship, so-

"Did I keep you waiting?" Shane's voice sounded like thunder among the chatter inside the café, strong and clear and attention grabbing. Quinn turned his head, putting on a smile to welcome his boyfriend.

"Not at all!" Maybe a bit, but Quinn was busy thinking about cows anyways. "Hi."

Shane pushed the hood of his black hoodie from his head, revealing his bright blue strands of hair. He let himself fall on the chair opposite of Quinn, that small smile that had made its way onto his lips fading already.

"Your hair," he just said, and Quinn pressed his lips together before forcing a grin.

"Yeah. Uhm, they don't allow colourful hair, so I had to change it up." He shook his head, the (still wet) black strands of his bangs flying around. "It's not that bad though, right?" It was that bad, but Quinn was hoping for a little affirmation.

"Hm." So it was really bad, then. Shane leaned back, continued to scan Quinn, then his eyes began to wander through the café. "Things are gonna change now." He looked away, nowhere in particular.

"I mean, yeah, but I'm coming back for winter break. I'm totally fine with long distance and stuff, if that's-"

"No, Quinn." Shane's eyes closed, brows furrowed as he shook his head. That you don't get it kind of shaking your head. It was true, Quinn didn't get it. "How do I say this- You'll change."

"Wh- Uh, will I?"

"I mean, it's starting with your hair." Shane gestured towards his bangs, then vaguely moved his arms around. "But when you're around all those rich kids, what's gonna happen? How will your views change? What will you think of home, of people like me, of me? I just can't stop thinking about how you'll start to fit in with them. What if you lose all those traits that made me fall in love with you because you'll be like them?"

"Wait, so what does that have to do with my hair?"

"The Quinn I know never would've done that," Shane said, his face twisting further. "What else will that school do to you? What other rules are there that are taking my Quinn away from me?"

"Shane, I don't plan on changing. Really." Quinn reached out to brush his fingers against Shane's. Something was happening in the pit of his stomach, something opened, slowly, creating one big black hole. Anticipation. Perhaps even fear. "I'm not becoming a whole different person just because I- It's just a rule, right? Just because the dress code doesn't want me to look like me, doesn't mean I'll stop being me."

"My Quinn didn't give a shit about rules, though." Shane pulled his hand away, and Quinn's organs couldn't withstand the black hole's pull anymore, being sucked in and torn apart infinitely. "Maybe we should... step away for a bit?"

"What does that mean?" Quinn knew exactly what that meant.

"For now- let's break it off." Shane stared at the table, then at his own hands, then out the window, then- everywhere. Just not at Quinn. "It's not that I don't love you. But what if you become someone I can't love while you're away? I'm willing to wait for you until you come back and see how we feel then, but for now I think it'd be best to-"

Quinn should've gotten used to this by now. Should have known that a breakup didn't mean shit between Quinn and Shane. They'd officially broken up three times already, and a dozen times had they at least been on the brink of breaking up.

But this time it was supposed to last. It had been going so damn well since the last time they broke up. Somewhat well. At least there hadn't been any big arguments, they had shut them off before they could happen. Not in the healthiest ways, not through talking it out (Quinn was never really good at talking about things anyways), but-

Well. Whatever. None of that really mattered now. What Shane said sounded final. For real this time. And he could claim to 'wait' for him as much as he wanted, Quinn wasn't sure he'd actually do that for two years.

Shane wouldn't want to wait for two years. He couldn't, impossibly. He was hot and gay and had blue hair and lived in London, he'd meet dozens of other guys that weren't nerds with an ugly black streak in their hair, and he'd find at least a million dudes that would fall in love with him- or at least want to fuck him.

"Can you just say something?"

"I-" Quinn snapped out of his thoughts, looked at Shane, who'd finally attempted eye contact. "I don't know what to say?"

"Anything."

"I- I don't know. I mean- What am I supposed to say, 'no'?"

"Well, I thought maybe you'd fight for me a little more." Shane looked away again, then sighed, loudly and slowly and heavily. "No, it's fine, Quinn. You're leaving tomorrow, right? I hope you have a good time. Think of me every now and then."

Then he got up, pulled the hood over his head again. That was it? Really? Quinn opened his mouth in hopes to think of a way to 'fight' for him. Nothing came out, though.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning closer to Quinn once more. "Will you give me one last kiss?"

'You just broke up with me and have the audacity to ask for a kiss? You think I'm that in love with you that I'd-' "Sure." Quinn leaned in, tried to make it a quick peck, but Shane had already pulled his face a little closer. The kiss was drawn out and sad and tasted bitter and angry and hopeless and so weirdly empty, like they had never kissed each other before, never even loved each other. What a horrible fucking feeling. One that Quinn swallowed without question, like he'd always do.

Shane pulled away, smiled, and for a second Quinn felt like it had a sweet aftertaste after all.

"Sorry, Quinnie. Have a good time at Oakwell."

Quinn didn't know if his last words should've been 'Fuck you' or 'I love you', but by the time he'd decided, Shane was already gone.

He inhaled. Held his breath. Then buried his face in his hands. Not that he was crying. He hadn't cried in, what, three years? Not even Shane could make him cry, nobody could, nothing, but he was damn close to it. Come on, not now.

That wasn't very Quinn-like, to let a break up he'd technically experienced like seven times already poke the part of his brain that usually remained untouched, quiet, unexplored. That part he'd shut down, that was too exhausting to deal with, that was always buried underneath 'fuck it' and 'whatever' and 'the world keeps spinning'.

His head jerked up when the waitress from earlier leaned down towards him, lightly tapping his shoulder.

"Sir, is everything okay?"

Okay? Oh, it was far from okay. Life was, in fact, rapidly falling apart at this very moment. No, oh no. Everything he'd worked for, everything he loved, everything he stood for, all of that was not just falling apart, it was exploding, going up in flames, and exploding again, a supernova, but less colourful and even more destructive.

"My parents are dead, I'm getting shipped to the countryside, now my boyfriend breaks up with me again-" He inhaled, letting his head fall back. "What's next? Am I gonna get hit by lightning?"

"O-Oh. Uhm, would you like a- I can give you a coupon for a free drink, if you'd like. If that helps."

Quinn blinked, then looked at the waitress. "Maybe that'd help, yeah."

None of this shit would've happened if Quinn was born a cow, by the way.

The front door of his tiny apartment fell shut behind Quinn, and he exhaled, sipping his second matcha latte of the day (this one was frozen, though, and free). The rain had stopped already, the sun had left her little hideout of clouds and shone like nothing bad had ever happened that day.

He snuck past the living room, adamant to avoid James. The last person he wanted to talk to right now was Shane Fan Number One. If James wasn't the world's straightest man, and happily engaged to the world's straightest woman, you'd think he had a crush on Shane.

Quinn lazily kicked open the door to his room just to be met with complete and utter chaos. Right. He'd abandoned packing just to get dumped by Shane. That'd been the one moment in his life where he didn't want to procrastinate and actually do what he was meant to do, just for that text to come in.

The suitcase laid open on his bed, and in it was a singular pair of socks, while half of Quinn's wardrobe was spread on the floor. God. That was so much work. Way too much work for one little heartbroken Quinn. He ducked to pick up another pair of socks, tossing it into the suitcase, before letting himself fall onto his bed.

Too much work. Would take hours to finish. And he wouldn't get much out of it either, except emptiness and the realisation that he wouldn't live in this room for the next two years.

What would they even do with it once he was gone? Surely James would turn it into a home office to work his super important job. Or maybe Grace would stick some of that soundproof foam stuff on the walls and make it her practice room. Then she'd buy thirty thousand new guitars and display them in here, and once Quinn was back he'd have to live on the streets because Grace realised that guitars were in fact more precious than her own twin brother.

If he was leaving in the first place. Because first, he'd have to pack his suitcase. And there was nothing in the whole world that seemed more impossible than that. Was it too late to call the whole thing off?

'Hello, Mister Osborne, I can't come. My suitcase includes two pairs of socks. Yes, the nice purple ones, and then a green pair to match my uniform. But you see, I also need underwear, and preferably a pair of pants or two, and I just can't get myself to pack them up. Why, you ask? Well. You see. I am utterly incompetent. And also my boyfriend broke up with me. So I can't come. You think he'll take me back now?'

Quinn closed his eyes, and maybe once he'd open them everything would be packed up and ready to go. But no, it was worse. He opened them, and in front of him stood Grace.

Her eyes were narrowed, hands on her hips, lips pursed. "What are you drinking?"

"Frozen Matcha Latte."

"For how much?"

"For free."

"For free? Did you steal-"

"I got a coupon, actually." She furrowed her brows, cocked her head, and Quinn quickly added: "Because I'm so cute."

"Surely. So you went to get your grass cocktail hoping the suitcase would pack itself, I assume?" Quinn didn't answer, and Grace sighed, pushing the suitcase away to make space for herself on the bed. "What's up?"

Quinn was absolutely not about to tell her that he just got dumped by Shane- for the fourth time, at that. He still had the slightest sliver of dignity left. So, he just shrugged, staring at the floor in front of him.

"Just feels weird to leave."

"Yeah, I can imagine." She hummed, then jumped up from the bed again. "Well, let's pack together. Get up."

Maybe it was a twin thing, but Grace was always there when Quinn was hiding. And he hid a lot. She wasn't usually one to share comforting words, but she didn't have to. She just did stuff. And that made him feel better. Usually.

She looked around, then picked up the first item from the floor. The pink top that someone had spilled their drink onto a couple of weeks ago- Ah, shit, that fucking top. God, he'd just lost the guy that was willing to fight a guy for him over a stain on a top.

"Bit too slutty for the Oakwell boys, isn't it?" She tossed it aside, grabbing the next thing, and after analysing it, folded it and packed it into the suitcase. "Come on, I'm not packing your shit for you by myself."

Quinn sighed, gave his very best to stand up, put his drink aside and started picking up stuff as well. What was appropriate for school anyways? He still hadn't read the dress code. Didn't plan on reading it until someone called him out for wearing the wrong shit.

He held a pair of shorts in his hands. Were they too short? They weren't, like, booty shorts or anything, but maybe the little stars and planets he'd drawn onto them with bleach ages ago were too much. Too DIY. Too stylish. He'd decide on them later-

There he was again. There was no later. He folded them up and threw them into the suitcase just for Grace to fold them a little nicer. Next item. Come on.

"You know," Grace said as she threw a cropped top onto the don't wear this shit at rich kid school pile, "once we're done, we could watch Barbie: Princess Charm School."

"Oh, you've been waiting to rewatch that, haven't you?"

"I mean, it's literally you. Poor kid winning a scholarship and all." She threw another shirt to the side. "And if you don't walk out of that school crowned Princess Quinton Walerian Harvey The First, I'm instantly sending you back."

She grinned, though something sad hiding behind the familiarity of it. Grace was the singular person Quinn would miss the most. And now he'd leave her alone with James. He'd have his paid for life at the magical whimsy school while she was stuck at home with a brother that saw the twins as a disappointment, and yet Quinn was the one complaining.

He sighed, shoved another pair of pants into his suitcase.

"If I'm a princess then you should theoretically be one too, though. And James-"

"James didn't get the same princess genes as we did. I'm not letting him into the castle, personally."

Grace winked, then focused back on packing. Quinn pressed his lips together, watched her for a couple of seconds, before continuing as well. Packing had become a little easier already.

☆-☆-☆-☆

WC: 2909

womp womp.

here we go! guy you've loved (?) since you were 11 dumps you in a cafe, now you get torn away from the only person you have left and have to restart your life among people you already hate without even knowing them. well, at least it can't get any worse than this, right?

right????

vote if you want things to get better, vote if you want things to get worse, comment to  reincarnate quinn as a cow.

song of the chapter:

FUCK ABOUT IT by Waterparks