I've been taking a break from writing due to the nightmare my life has been recently, but here's a snapshot from my 3rd part of my omega² 743 series.
Quinn hadn’t felt good all day, the whole week really, this bone deep weariness that didn’t seem to want to go away and a churning feeling in his stomach. And Brock settling his arm around his shoulders should have been a comfortable weight, like a safety blanket, but instead it just hurt. Like a deep, uncomfortable bruise being pressed on. He had tried to slump away, not wanting to hurt his sweet boyfriend’s feelings but instead, Brock had just settled his arm more firmly around him.
“Can you move your arm?” Quinn snaps, and immediately it’s harsher than he intended.
Brock snatches his arm back, this hurt noise escaping his mouth and echoes in the silence of the room. The bigger omega slumps down, his scent souring and his eyes downcast. Immediately it grates on Quinn’s already frayed nerves, how Brock is acting like a kicked puppy; if he weren’t so irritated it would hurt Quinn to see.
“Sorry, it’s just-” Quinn huffs. “Your arm was hurting me, is all.”
“I just wanted to help,” Brock’s voice is quiet, and Quinn hates himself for being the reason. “I’m sorry.”
And Quinn knows he isn’t being fair, Brock is not only the sweetest person he’s ever met, but he’s been the most amazing boyfriend Quinn could ask for, and he doesn’t deserve Quinn being bitchy because he doesn’t feel good.
“What is your problem?” Brock snaps back, his voice cracking.
This is where Quinn should apologize and go to bed, because this isn’t the conversation they should be having right now, while they’re both angry. But, Quinn has always excelled at making bad decisions. And so:
“Maybe I wouldn’t have a problem if you would give me some fucking space!”
It doesn’t even feel good to say it, he immediately regrets saying it actually, hates the watery, wide-eyed look he gets. Hates how Brock’s scent goes from bitter-burnt-angry to rotten-sad. Hates how Brock flinches back, one large hand coming up to cover his mouth and the other coming up to clutch at his chest.
“I’m not doing this,” Brock’s voice sounds hollow and Quinn feels his heart drop.
Those words sound like Brock’s breaking up with him, and why wouldn’t he? This is Quinn’s fault, and his alone. And Quinn is crying, not entirely in his control, making these godawful choking noises every time he breathes in, hands coming up to his hair and yanking harshly.
“Hey,” there are large hands closing around his, pulling them back gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He can’t help but flinch, had expected Brock to scoff at his dramatics and leave. Knows that he would, if he were Brock watching him act like this. Knows that it’s what he deserves.
“Baby,” Brock’s voice is softer than he deserves. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Quinn shakes his head, and tries to pull away but Brock just tightens his hands.
“I’m not going to fight with you, Quinny,” Brock says, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles. “Please, stop pushing me away, just talk to me.”
Quinn looks up at Brock then, kneeling in front of him. He’s still got that wide-eyed, teary look and it’s all Quinn’s fault, the wave of despair that hits him is like a physical blow and he can’t actually stop the hurt noise that escapes his mouth, high in his throat. And he’s shaking his head again, can’t believe he’s let himself hurt Brock like this.
“You’re going to leave me,” Quinn chokes out, his voice thick and wobbly with his tears and Brock gasps. “And-and you should leave-”
“Hey, hey,” Brock interrupts him. “I’m not leaving you, no one’s leaving anyone, okay?”
“‘M not good for you, all I do is-is hurt you-”
“No,” Brock says it so firmly that Quinn has to look at him. “This is just one little fight, I’m not leaving you over that.”
“But you should,” Quinn sobs out, rearing back to try and get away. “You deserve better than me.”
“Please stop,” Brock’s voice breaks, and his tears spill over and Quinn feels every bit of resolve break. “Just talk to me, please, I can’t keep hearing you talk about yourself like this.”
Quinn gently pulls his hands out of Brock’s, and he cups his boyfriend’s face and swipes his tears away with his thumbs.
“It’s stupid,” Quinn sniffles, scrunching his nose.
“Not if it’s got you acting like this.”
Brock just reaches up and holds Quinn’s hands still covering his cheeks. Then shakes his head softly.
“I just haven’t been feeling good,” Quinn mutters, ashamed of how long it’s taken for him to just say what’s wrong. “I didn’t really mean to snap at you, I’m sorry.”
“You really hurt me, I’m not going to lie to you.”
Quinn sniffles, and leans down to rest his forehead against Brock’s.
“Did you really think I was going to leave you?”
“You said you weren’t doing this and I just panicked.”
“I just meant I wasn’t going to fight with you,” Brock pulls away from Quinn then, standing up. “I didn’t think you’d react like that.”
“Brock, you mean everything to me,” Quinn whispers his confession. “Losing you would break me.”
“Quinn,” Brock’s face crumples. “You won’t lose me.”
“You deserve better,” Quinn holds up his hand when Brock goes to jump in. “I’m a lot, I’m bitchy for no reason and I close myself off for no reason, and you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, too sweet for me.”
“But I love that about you,” Brock says, finally sitting by Quinn. “Becuase it’s just so you, Quinn, and I love you.”
Brock takes one of Quinn’s hands and draws it up to his lips, kissing his knuckles so softly that it hurts. His head is already starting to pound from all the crying, and he finds himself listing towards where Brock is sitting, still too far away. He hesitantly scoots himself closer, hoping for a hug but too afraid to ask, or go in for one himself.
“I think we should go to bed,” Brock says, pulling Quinn up by the hand he’s still holding.
“Will you hold me?” He asks quietly, partially hoping Brock won’t hear him.
“Yeah, baby, I’ll hold you.”
It’s the lightest Quinn has felt the whole night.
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