Quentin was Quentin. He of course did not ask for her to listen to him, he didn’t expect her to stand around or even let him finish a sentence. If anything he would have been thankful for her anger, it’d be easier to settle this stupid feeling of guilt down. But the beautiful brown eyes that he loved most about her features were full of a distant look in her eyes. Quentin did not expect her to ever forgive him for leaving. He was sorry, he felt very sorry for letting her get hurt, for her losing a big part of her life because of him. But at the end of the day he was very much aware that he only brought toxic to her life. So he also wasn’t sorry in a way. He wasn’t sorry for leaving her. He had to one way or another and it’s a shame it took her getting hurt for him to understand that. “I’m happy to see you doing so much better without me,” he admitted, and his voice was very low and quiet, and it said more than he had wanted it to say.
He watched her leave and he couldn’t do much about it. After all this time, he had no right to stop her, to make her listen to him, to make her forgive him, to tell him about what she had been doing all this time, to tell her what she was doing in Vegas, even though he wanted to know so bad. Quentin just sighed hearing her question. He had gone through so much since the last time he saw her. He had changed so much, and so had she. Probably. There was no way she’d ever like the person he had become, so there was no use in trying to stop her. So he let her leave. As much as he didn’t want to.. He let her leave. And someone else did bring his coffee. And as his book really was ditched in a corner of his table, he still finished his strong coffee, thinking about the good old days. Thinking about loving someone unconditonally, fully and having real and innocent hope for the future.
Sasha’s mother always had a habit of asking her if she regretted getting with Quentin, of course just to get under her skin. There wasn’t a moment in their relationship that Sasha regretted, which to this day bothered her to her core. Plenty of people would have given up after getting hit with a car, but her hope in people still hadn’t changed. A few weeks after waking up, her mother hit her with the same question figuring her answer would change. The way Sasha saw it, hating Quentin would have been the easiest thing to do. Only he wasn’t the person who hit her with a car, it was his foster father. Who Sasha remembered as being this horrible person, Quentin always deserved better in her eyes. To this day, her mother knew better than to bring Quentin up because it usually resulted in Sasha slamming a door in her face. She heard his statement before walking away, which cut through the facade she had built and suddenly she was seventeen again and he was the boy who captured her heart so easily.
Asking for a break wasn’t that big of a deal, especially since her manager knew what she had been through and was still going through. Taking time for herself was important, especially when her anxiety started acting up. Which was certainly something new in her life, ever since she woke up thinking she was still in high school. Once her apron was off, Sasha walked outside the front door in order to get some air. Being in front of people always got to her at times, but the person being Quentin just made it that much more worse. Taking a few steps to the left, she found herself sitting on the bench that was in front of the restaurant. Her phone in her hands, she contemplated on calling her aunt who knew the whole story behind why she was in a coma in the first place. The important thing being she never judged Sasha for what she felt, unlike her own mother. “Get yourself together, Jacobs.” She muttered, feeling completely useless.
