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The way he stood in the doorframe made him look much smaller than Quinn had ever realized. Quinn’s childhood room, his only room, it fit Quinn’s size. He was used to walking through the door and feeling the familiar six inches of space between the top of his hair and the ceiling, but as he watched Bert standing there, he noticed the gap was much wider now, the empty space basically doubled. Quinn wondered if Bert could touch the surface above him if he jumped.
“It’s not much, but–” Quinn began, but Bert took a few steps into the room and set down his small bag that contained everything important enough for him to bring. It was tattered, dirty, and barely held together, with the zipper replaced by safety pins and holes covered with duct tape and poor sewing skills. Quinn was pretty certain that the bag originally was blue, but he couldn’t tell anymore from its condition.
“It’s more than I could ever ask for, you know. Um, thanks. One day, I’ll repay you for this, and I’ll repay your parents, and I’ll, um, like when the band takes over the world–” Bert stammered, and Quinn felt a smile tug on his lips at the way his friend tripped over his words. He was genuinely excited about the band, he really was, but not in the same way that Bert was. Quinn had been in this band for almost a year now, he had gotten over the initial excitement, and he was a veteran to the idea of maybe one day making it. Bert was new, Bert was ambitious, and Bert was different.
Quinn knew the band meant something to Bert in ways beyond music. Robert McCracken, the skinny, dirty wreck of a kid was going to be something with this band, Quinn was sure of it. Bert had a fire inside of him, fueled by a cocktail of anger, hurt, tragedy, and issues Quinn couldn’t even begin to understand, but it was that fire that was going to lead him to victory. That fire was going to give him a life where he didn’t have to worry about loss or survival every second that he took a breath. Quinn turned off the lamp that barely provided any light in the first place and walked over to the bed and slumped down, his head hitting the flat, greyish-blue pillow. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed his sheets, but he didn’t care, and he knew Bert wouldn’t either. The smaller boy approached him, almost timidly, and Quinn raised an eyebrow.
“What?” He asked, and Bert looked at him with those big, blue eyes that directly contrasted with his dark hair. Quinn knew Bert dyed his hair with cheap black dye, and also knew it would bleed all over his sheets whenever Bert got his hair wet. He didn’t mind that thought at all. It wasn’t like he washed his sheets in the first place.
“Did you want me to sleep on the floor?” He asked softly, but before Quinn could even think to reply, he was tackled by a pale, bony blur of black hair.
“Kidding! We’re gonna be kicking it when we are sleeping in vans, you better get used to me, Quinny!” He laughed, elbowing Quinn as he settled in the space closest to the wall, the side that always remained empty in Quinn’s bed, empty until now. Quinn scoffed, grinning as he shoved Bert playfully, but Bert only let out a dumb fake moan, causing Quinn to laugh before he closed his eyes. Quinn wasn’t very tired, but it was late, and Bert needed to sleep after all he’d been through during the day. He put his head back onto the pillow, focusing on his breathing while listening to the soft sounds of Bert trying to get comfortable next to him.
“If anyone asks why I live here now, can you tell them that it was me who left my house? I don’t want people to think I was that much of a fuck-up that my parents kicked me out. That feeling sucks,” Bert’s voice was shaking a bit, and Quinn hummed in agreement. He wished he could tell Bert that he wasn’t a fuck-up, that he was a phenomenal lyricist, that he was talented and charming, and that he had a singing voice that was far too big for his little body, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to say anything.
“Your bed smells like you,” The familiar voice whispered next to him, and Quinn didn’t understand why, but his breathing stopped for a second. The two sat in silence, any words Quinn had stuck in his throat. The air was still and a little heavy, the only noise echoing through the room was the plaid comforter rustling.
“Soon it’ll smell like you, unless I can get you to actually use my soap when you shower,” He finally managed to say with a laugh, and to his surprise, he felt the warm mass inch closer to him, and sprawl a small arm across his chest. The pale, bony blur of black hair moved into him, and almost naturally, Quinn moved his arm around Bert, keeping him close. Silence continued to linger in the air, occasionally broken by a deep breath, a creak from the bed, or the wind passing through gaps in the leaves and branches of the big maple tree that stood outside of Quinn’s window.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Quinn whispered after a few minutes, but the only response he got was the slow breathing of Bert, the indicator that he was finally getting sleep. Quinn’s heart felt warm, he knew the stories Bert would tell him and the band about his insomnia and nightmares, and Quinn couldn’t help but feel the sides of his mouth curl up slightly. Bert was finally able to sleep in a place he felt safe enough to. Someone he felt safe enough to sleep next to. Quinn held him a little tighter. He laid there, still, and unmoving, feeling the rise and fall of Bert’s body against his own, and he wasn’t tired anymore, but he wasn’t going to move, so he just laid there. He laid there until his eyes got heavy enough, and even in his sleep, he didn’t move. He didn’t disturb the boy who he’d known for three and a half weeks. He knew that he would wake up exactly where he was, and something about that made Quinn feel warm – not just because of the body heat next to him.
Even though Quinn didn’t know Bert that well yet, the feeling of him was amazingly familiar. Quinn didn’t dream that night, he didn’t know why. He didn’t mind though, especially when he woke up with Bert still in his arms, small and pale with a mess of black hair everywhere, just like he silently promised to himself.
––––
They weren’t sure how it began happening – but it did.
Quinn wasn’t sure what it meant, he didn’t, but he also didn’t dare to ask. If he asked, he’d sound serious, and that thought terrified him. Quinn was an overthinker – anything that he felt between Bert and him, the fondness that existed at a silent level, he was pretty sure he was making it up. He didn’t want to put their friendship in peril by being overdramatic.
Regardless of the wishful thinking, he always found himself anticipating his time alone with Bert now. Bert was fun, he was risky, he pushed Quinn out of his comfort zone, he was easy to just sit by and do nothing with, and he kissed Quinn. He kissed Quinn a lot.
He knew it was obviously a joke, the two always talked about the girls they were into, and Bert also kissed their bandmates too – it didn’t mean anything, and Quinn always made sure to tell himself that kisses with no foundation, no background, were insignificant.
But Bert’s mouth always tasted like cigarettes, and now, whenever Quinn caught a whiff of someone smoking, he had this pavlovian response where stringy black hair and wide blue eyes filled his vision.
“You good, Quinn?” Jepha chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke slowly out of his mouth. The two were currently messing around with their instruments – Jepha on bass and Quinn on guitar – in Jepha’s spare room. Bert was upstairs in Jepha’s shower (Quinn forced him to take one, it’d been five days) and Branden was still on his way over. Quinn rolled his eyes and grabbed the cigarette from Jepha’s hand, inhaling deeply, feeling the heat from the smoke pool in his lungs. He slowly let the air and smoke leave his lips, the taste of Bert’s mouth in his – except without the authenticity. Without Bert being the one to leave that taste in his mouth. Quinn ashed the cigarette, grey dust hitting the stained carpet.
“Fuck off man, I’m chill. I’m just annoyed that I haven’t gotten this riff down yet.”
Jepha nodded, a smile still on his lips, but he didn’t reach for the cigarette back so Quinn took that as an offer for him to finish it. He gratefully accepted the offer, taking a few more drags as he watched Jepha strum on his bass while reading the sheet music the two wrote months ago.
Jepha was talented, and Quinn watched as his fingers grazed the strings, black nail polish chipped and dirt under his fingernails.
“Jeph, I forgot to say – your chords for taste of ink are fucking great . Once we get Bert to write some lyrics, it’s gonna be a fantastic song,” Quinn grinned.
Jepha looked up suddenly, and his eyes were wide, excited. “Thanks, man. Oh! Speaking of Bert, did you hear that he went out with that chick from the show last weekend? The one with the eyebrow piercing.”
Quinn swallowed, fingers tightening on his guitar pick. “Nah, he didn’t tell me. Good for him, she was hot.” He played a few chords, then stopped. “How come he told you and not me?”
Jepha shrugged, focused on playing a chord progression on his instrument. Quinn sat there, balancing his guitar on his lap as he rested his hands on the couch under him. The material felt smooth, and he traced his nail over one of the flowers printed on the fabric. His eyes quickly darted to behind Jepha when the noise of the doorknob hitting the wall echoed through the room. Bert’s eyes quickly met his, his hair wet and stringy. He was wearing this dumb, faded blue shirt Quinn had from high school. It was common for Bert to wear Quinn’s clothes considering he had barely brought anything when he moved in, but Quinn’s shirts were always too long on Bert.
“Wow, I can’t believe Quinny here got the grossest guy in the world to shower? How much did ya pay him?” Jepha laughed, and Bert smirked as he ran over to Jepha, shaking his head, sending drops of water from his sopping wet hair onto the bassist.
“Hey, hey ! Instruments here, be careful, idiot!” Jepha yelled, pointing at the wires on the floor, and Bert laughed, falling onto the couch Quinn was at, flipping Jepha off as he sat across from him. He shifted in his seat to face Quinn, his eyes wide, and bright, a grin tugging on his face. Quinn rolled his shoulders back and slightly turned towards the boy to greet him.
“You’re in a good mood,” Quinn softly smiled, feeling a little tense, but he wasn’t sure why.
Bert nodded in response, and Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with the girl Jepha brought up. “I was thinking – we should add piano to some of the songs.”
Quinn and Jepha made eye contact and began laughing – causing Bert to punch Quinn in the arm, eyes glistening with energy.
“We aren’t laughing at you , we are laughing because none of us play the fucking piano, dude,” Quinn explained, rubbing his arm. Bert rolled his eyes.
“Okay, maybe none of you guys, but I do. I’ve played my whole life, and I think it can add a lot to some of our songs!” He grinned, and Jepha raised an eyebrow at two, considering Bert’s requests.
“I mean, we have that piano in the living room. Why haven’t you ever told me this?” Quinn asked, and was genuinely curious. Bert made no effort to show off his piano skills within the last few months, and Quinn didn’t even think Bert realized there was a piano in his house.
“It’s not very hardcore to be a pianist, Quinny,” Bert smirked, and Quinn had to admit – he was right. The more Quinn learned about Bert, the less insane and unshakable he seemed. He learned that Bert did competitive gymnastics when he was younger, Bert went by Rob almost his entire life, Bert was fascinated by the night sky, and he learned that Bert loved being held as slept. That last fact was Quinn’s favorite.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds too long, but the eye contact was broken from a combination of Branden swinging the door open and Jepha strumming on the bass strings again.
“Sorry, that took longer than expected, my parents weren’t letting me take the car until I helped my dad with some yard work – fucking bullshit. I can’t wait till we can just get out onto the road,” Branden sighed, and Bert looked at Quinn again. His eyes held something different now, the energy and excitement weren’t there, and even though they were still bright, they looked sad. It might’ve been wishful thinking, but Quinn was pretty certain he knew what that look meant, because he was giving Bert the exact same expression in return. The two seemed to both understand what the other was thinking – road life was going to be fun, exciting, everything they wanted; but the idea of not feeling each other in Quinn’s bed made the idea much less appealing. Anything for the band though, right?
“No worries, dude. Alright, Bert, you finish the lyrics for memories yet?” Quinn smiled, not looking at Branden, instead keeping his eyes locked on the blue ones next to him. Bert nodded, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket.
“Let’s jam,” He grinned, a wide, real smile – where his teeth showed, his eyebrows were raised slightly, and little crinkles formed by his eyes. Quinn really liked it when Bert smiled for real.
––––
Quinn’s knuckles hurt. They were slightly split, all thanks to band practice and Bert’s bony jaw. The band was taking off, they had a few songs finished, and a ton of demos done. It no longer felt like four guys hanging out and messing around, it felt real, like they were almost at the point of making it. It was a good thing, and Quinn was unbelievably proud of himself and his bandmates that they had come this far, but there were also some drawbacks – tensions were higher. Friendliness wasn’t accounted for anymore when giving opinions on songs, and that led to hurt feelings, anger, and fights.
And boy, did they fight .
It wasn’t uncommon for Quinn and Bert to throw punches every other band practice, Jepha pulling Quinn off Bert whilst Branden scolded Bert for not being able to control his mouth or anger. The fights were all stupid, either about a dumb chord Bert didn’t like or a lyric Quinn had problems with. The current fight though was because Quinn got mad that Bert brought the girl he was seeing to practice.
“No girls, that’s always been the deal. It’s supposed to be just the band, what about that do you not understand? Are you already so full of yourself that you can’t just spend time with us? With me? I swear, sometimes you’re a fucking idiot, Bert,” Quinn snapped. “I mean, letting her play my guitar? Seriously, what if she broke it? What, you got the money to get a guitar restrung? You live with me for fucks sake, you can’t afford shit!”
“You’re overreacting! You’re such an asshole, you know that? She barely touched your guitar, I was the one who was using it for the seven minutes you were taking a smoke break with Jeph in his room. You’re acting like a fucking jealous girlfriend right now, Quinn,” Bert growled in response.
“Why the fuck would I be jealous? Jealous of what, you having a girl over? She’s not all that, Bert. She’s some chick who looks like every other girl in the scene, except less hot than the ones who have been all over me at the shows we go to, and you know it,” Quinn ran a hand through his hair. He was trying so hard to control himself, control his anger, but the whole situation was fucking stupid . Bert took a few steps closer to Quinn, getting directly in his face.
“First off, she’s a lot hotter than any girl you’ve been with, so don’t be a fucking dick. Second, I know you’re not jealous that I’m fucking someone and you’re not. I think you’re fucking jealous that you aren’t getting my attention one hundred percent of the time. You look desperate , it’s honestly hilarious,” Bert smirked, and Quinn felt a switch go off in him. Before he could even think, he collided his fist into Bert’s jaw and watched as the boy stumbled, letting out a string of curses.
“What, am I right? Is Quinny a little jealous? Does Quinny have a little crush on me?” He chuckled, holding his jaw, his eyes watery. Quinn didn’t have time to reply, because immediately after, Bert threw a punch back at him. He was quick enough to soften the blow with his forearm before he knocked Bert’s hand away.
“Go to hell. This isn’t about me, this is about the fucking music. Which you clearly don’t care about!” Quinn yelled, and he raised his fist to hit Bert again, but Jepha ran into the room, grabbing Quinn and pushing him away from Bert. Quinn fought against Jepha, watching as Bert stood there smugly. Branden followed shortly after, joining Jepha in restraining Quinn from lashing out even more.
“Chill the hell out, both of you! Jesus, we leave for like, five minutes? Six? And you two gotta fight again ?” Branden exhaled, it was obvious he was over their bullshit. “Bert, leave him alone. Just, stop bringing other people to practice, it’s that simple. And don’t say dumbass shit about jealousy or whatever the fuck you were going on about. You’re deliberately trying to provoke him, and then you act all shocked when he punches you!”
Branden then turned to Quinn, who was busy taking deep breaths, rubbing his knuckles, and glaring at Bert. “How many times do we gotta tell you to cool it with the fist fights? If this shit is happening before we even have an album done, I don’t want to be on the road with you two.”
“For real. Just walk it off. I swear to God, next time you two fight I’m kicking everyone out of my house,” Jepha chimed in. Bert rolled his eyes, grabbed a lighter off the couch, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door on the way.
“Can you guys just talk about this like normal people? Maybe Bert should come stay with me for a couple of nights, you two are around each other too much and it’s messing with the band,” Jepha sighed, and Quinn froze – he didn’t want Bert to stay with Jepha.
“Nah, it’s fine. He’ll cool off after smoking, I’ll cool off too. I’m sorry guys, I swear I never mean for this to happen. He just pisses me off sometimes,” Quinn looked at his hands, his nails short, knuckles red. Jepha patted him on the back, and Branden nodded at him. Quinn knew he and Bert wouldn’t change their behavior – it was an unwritten rule that Quinn and Bert didn’t bring the fights up after they happened – the actual fighting stopped until the next practice when they started up again. Maybe it was a stupid rule, but neither of them ever tried something different.
The problem was, things never felt the same anymore. In fact, Quinn had never felt further away from him. Bert liked being held by Quinn less and less in their bed, and Quinn was beginning to forget the way Bert always tasted of cigarettes.
He knew things would be tense between them for the rest of the day, and Quinn tried to stay as late as possible at Jepha’s to avoid alone time with Bert. When they got home, it was nearly one in the morning, and it felt like Quinn had a rock in his stomach as they laid in bed beside each other.
“You’re literally taking all of the blanket,” Bert grumbled, tugging on the covers. Quinn sighed – he was tired, they were both tired. Quinn ran his finger over his knuckles, bruised and sore from when they collided with Bert’s jaw hours earlier. The girl ended things with Bert after the fight, and Quinn could tell he was upset about it, upset at him.
“Maybe if you didn’t sleep in just your boxers you wouldn’t be so cold,” Quinn replied, and Bert scoffed, inching even further away. Quinn sighed and turned around to face him. However, instead of being met with the blue eyes that he wanted to see, he was met with the back of Bert’s head, stringy black hair trailing near Quinn’s nose.
“Come here,” Quinn said softly, inviting Bert into his arms as a peace offering, but Bert stayed put.
“Just fuck off,” He replied in a whisper, but Quinn wasn’t letting this happen – there had been too many nights in a row where he and Bert fell asleep away from each other. Quinn moved towards him, the bed dipping slightly from Quinn’s repositioning, and pulled Bert into his arms, locking them tightly around him. Bert’s breath hitched, and Quinn remembered how small Bert felt in his arms.
“I’m sorry – for how things have been lately. I miss being friends, and I miss you,” Quinn admitted, his words spilling out as he exhaled into Bert’s neck. He couldn’t hear himself; he was too busy feeling the rise and fall of Bert’s breathing against his chest. He felt Bert’s tense body loosen up, giving in to his touch.
“You do?” He asked, his voice small, unfamiliar to the loud, overconfident, douchebag voice Quinn was used to. Those two words sounded like his voice when he sang – they sounded honest.
“Yeah, I do. Things get overwhelming, I get stressed out, and I don’t mean to take it out on you. I don’t like how our, um, how we are right now. You, you’re important to me. You’re my best friend Bert, I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear lately,” Quinn explained, and he knew he shouldn’t be saying these things – he was breaking the rules – but it was late and Bert was next to him and he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to get this out into the open, and in that moment, the passive-aggressive system they formed didn’t matter. Bert turned around, inches away from Quinn, and he felt warm breath against his face. Even though the room was completely dark, and Quinn couldn’t see him, he knew exactly what he was looking at. He had Bert’s features memorized by now.
“Best friends, yeah,” Bert replied, quieter than normal.
“You know what I mean,” Quinn said through gritted teeth, regretting his phrasing. Bert sighed, and Quinn felt the bed move slightly as Bert moved his arm under his head.
“Do I?” He replied.
Quinn stayed quiet.
“What do you mean, Quinn?”
Quinn wanted nothing more than to answer the question, he really did. He didn’t know how to though, because even he didn’t know what he meant.
“It’s just, we, um. Fuck, I don’t know, Bert. You confuse me. I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t even know how you see me. I’m just trying to apologize, okay? I don’t like how we have been lately, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter how I feel, about you, about this . I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I don’t want to feel this shitty when we are around each other.”
The warmth radiating between their two bodies started to feel a lot hotter to Quinn as he waited for Bert to respond, the silence feeling like someone was pressing down on his chest.
“I’m sorry too. You’re right – this is confusing, I shouldn’t have brought it up. But yeah, I don’t like how we have been towards each other either. Can we make a, fuck, I don’t know. This is stupid,” Bert stammered, and Quinn let his finger touch a piece of Bert’s hair with a gentle hand, encouraging him. He hadn’t noticed until now how much longer his hair was in comparison to when he first moved in.
“Can we make a promise that we won’t let the band do this to us anymore? You’re too special to me Quinn. I mean, you know about all the shit with my parents, you somehow automatically know when I relapse, like you can just tell, and that means something. I mean, where would I even be right now if it wasn’t for you? You, god , you don’t even realize it but man, you fucking saved my–” Bert continued shakily, voice cracking and words breaking, but Quinn knew he didn’t want to have to say the things he was saying.
So Quinn cut him off.
He cut Bert off by taking his lips into his, ignoring any thoughts that were telling him this was a bad idea. Quinn felt Bert tense up at first before he moved his lips against Quinn, and his mouth was hot and wet. Quinn felt his heartbeat start to speed up, and he pulled away, using his thumb to wipe off a drop of spit that lingered on Bert’s lower lip.
“Yes, I promise.”
Bert smiled. “Me too.”
“Can I kiss you again?” Quinn asked slowly.
“Please,” Was all Bert replied with, and with that, Quinn grinned as he pulled him back into the kiss. It was tentative, hesitant, and Quinn knew this meant a lot more than any other kiss he shared with Bert. Those kisses were fueled by alcohol, adrenaline, and Bert’s directness, and took place around other people. This kiss was different, because they were sober, lying next to each other, no audience around. It was solely for them, and it was soft – lips grazing against each other. Quinn hoped Bert couldn’t hear how fast Quinn’s heart was beating, or feel how Quinn couldn’t hold back a soft smile as Bert’s mouth was against his.
Bert was the first to pull away, and Quinn watched as their lips disconnected.
“I’m tired, let’s go to sleep,” He said, and Quinn simply nodded, because it wasn’t like he could do anything else. Bert was tired, he wanted to sleep, and he wanted to stop kissing Quinn. And Quinn really hoped he didn’t do anything to mess up the apologies they just exchanged.
“You better keep your promise,” Quinn said quietly, and Bert hummed in agreement, pressing himself into Quinn as close as possible.
He felt Bert relax his muscles, easing into the bed and Quinn’s arms. He knew things weren’t suddenly going to be perfect, but this newfound forgiveness between the two gave Quinn hope that he and Bert were going to be okay.
Quinn thought for a moment what ‘okay’ meant for the two of them as Bert’s body pressed into his, and soon he came to a realization. ‘Okay’ meant that Bert would want to be held by him in bed again, and it meant that Quinn would remember how much he loved the way Bert always tasted of cigarettes.
––––
“So, how’d you think of these lyrics again? They’re pretty abstract, but it sounds like a love song, and last time I checked, you’re in no position to have a girlfriend. Like, who’s the lucky lady, Quinn ?” Branden chuckled, spinning a drumstick in his hand as he handed the piece of crumpled paper back to Bert. Bert snatched the paper back, cheeks red, before breaking out into laughter and throwing an arm around Quinn.
“Oh, you know it. My beautiful girlfriend, look at that pretty blonde hair!” Bert taunted, twirling a piece of Quinn’s hair in his fingers and making a kissy face at him. Quinn rolled his eyes and pushed Bert off him.
“As if I’d be the girlfriend, seriously? You’re the one with the long hair who wears makeup. You’re definitely the girlfriend,” He laughed, and Bert flamboyantly flipped his hair over his shoulder, causing the guys to all chuckle.
“So, what was the inspiration then?” Jepha asked, and Quinn went silent – waiting to hear Bert’s answer.
“Just, realizing certain relationships, um, friendships ,” Bert paused, eyes flickering over to Quinn. “They are more important than projects or things that seem really exciting, you know? Like, being able to just spend time with someone and recognize there is something special. Dumbass,” Bert explained, throwing a lighthearted jab at the end, causing Branden and Jepha to huff with light laughter. Quinn smiled to himself.
He knew Bert wasn’t going to be honest about the person he was talking about, but, Quinn knew.
He was talking about Quinn.
“Alright, let’s run through it, then. Y’all ready? Got the sheet music?” Branden asked, and the others nodded. Bert tried to flatten the crumpled sheet of lyrics to make it more readable, but Quinn was sure he had them memorized by now.
He was sure because Bert showed him those same lyrics a week prior as a poem. An apology.
Bert, as stubborn as he was – apologized with a poem to Quinn for what was happening between them, all the fights. It happened on the day after their confession in bed, their kiss in bed. Quinn woke up and Bert wasn’t there. At first, Quinn panicked. He assumed he fucked up, he broke their rules, and now he was dealing with the consequences of Bert not being tucked under his arm when he woke up.
The rest of the morning was awful, and he stayed in his room the entire time. He laid in bed, going over every possible thing that might’ve caused Bert to leave as early as he did. Was it the way he smiled against the kiss? Or the way he stroked Bert’s hair softly until Bert fell asleep, not even stopping when his wrist hurt from the angle? Or was it the fact that it was made clear that he felt something for Bert that Bert most likely didn’t feel back?
Quinn meant what he said to Bert that night, that he was confusing. Quinn just wished Bert would open up, would spill what was going on inside that head of his, because he needed clarity. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, and the sole idea of even acknowledging feelings for his best friend was off the table.
Quinn was sitting in his bed, scribbling drawings in his journal, when Bert opened the door.
He walked in, piece of paper in hand, standing in that doorway looking exactly the same as he did when he first moved in – except his hair was longer and his roots were starting to grow blonde.
“Hey, where have you been?” Quinn asked, trying to hide any sound of him being upset, but he knew he was failing miserably. He didn’t know why Bert didn’t wake up next to him, even though he spent all morning listing off every possible reason.
“I need to tell you something, Quinn. Don’t interrupt me, because I know you like to be a bitch and butt in to correct me on shit and I need to tell you this,” Bert replied, avoiding Quinn’s question. Quinn scoffed but remained silent. He waved his hand, signaling for Bert to continue.
When Bert opened his mouth, shaky hands holding the piece of paper, his eyes were on Quinn’s the whole time. He didn’t need the paper in his hands to read the poetry he was holding. The words flowed from his mouth like syrup, like a second language he was fluent in.
Quinn held his breath when Bert reached a line, a line that defined their relationship. A line that contained the words Quinn was so desperately searching for the night prior when Bert asked what Quinn meant by the phrase best friends . Quinn didn’t know what this poem was, why Bert was reading it to him, or who this was about.
But Quinn silently prayed at that moment that this poem, those words, were about him. About them.
When he finished, his voice was much smaller than it was when he started.
“Wow,” Quinn exhaled, unsure of how to voice his thoughts. Bert shifted from one foot to the other. He looked up at Quinn, eyes wide. Quinn studied the blue eyes in front of him because he wanted to find the meaning of this, he wasn’t scared by this point. He didn’t believe he was overthinking anymore.
“What does it mean?” He asked since Bert hadn’t broken his silence.
“Kiss me, Quinn,” Bert replied, and Quinn did.
They kissed, Bert tasting of cigarettes and Quinn loving every second of it. Bert was clinging to Quinn, and they both stood there in their room, hands holding each other tight, bodies pressed against each other, lips, teeth, and tongues colliding as if this was the last kiss they could ever have.
It wasn’t a sexy kiss, it wasn’t a playful kiss, and it wasn’t the kiss they shared the night before. This time, the kiss was a physical embodiment of their relationship, it was desperate and messy and it felt exactly like how Bert described it in his poem – a mixing of something, an integration. The kiss was blue, the kiss was yellow, and the kiss was green. The kiss was as natural as Bert’s words were when he read Quinn that poem.
The same poem that became the song they were about to play for the very first time in front of everyone else.
Quinn looked at Bert as he began strumming on the guitar, and Bert smiled before he softly started to sing the lines.
––––
London, the cold air, the grey sky. The shared room, the wrinkled sheets, and the white hotel comforter that barely clung onto the bed. It wasn’t like he didn’t have fun with Branden and Jepha here – Quinn loved every second they all spent together, crushed into one cheap hotel room, keeping each other up all night and partying whenever they got the chance, forcing Branden to take care of them all. It was an unforgettable weekend, but he was warm all over for the time he was going to spend with Bert, alone. He deserved it, they deserved it.
“Quinn! Quinny! Quinnifer!” Quinn heard the raspy voice shout, and Quinn finally looked towards the voice, who grinned at the acknowledgment. “What do you want to do today?”
Quinn shrugged. He had no idea – he didn’t know London at all. He figured they would do touristy shit together, Bert was cheesy and had this childlike curiosity and excitement to him, and Quinn was pretty sure they wouldn’t be leaving England without Bert owning an “I love London” shirt, a big red heart on the right side of it.
“How about we start with food or coffee? I’m starving ,” He replied, and Bert nodded in agreement. He grabbed a shirt off the ground, and Quinn recognized it as that blue shirt he stole from Quinn a long time ago – the one that was far too big and somehow looked good on him. Bert brought it to his face, and Quinn laughed.
“Checking if it’s clean? Knowing you, it’s probably not.” Bert looked at Quinn with a shocked expression, and then grabbed a shoe off the ground and threw it at him, laughing alongside the other boy. “Fuck you! And for your information, it’s actually somewhat clean. I’m trying to look good, wanna impress a special someone,” He smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as he raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah? Is it that stripper that was all up on you the other day? ‘Happy birthday Bert!’” Quinn mocked the woman with a bad British accent, causing Bert to giggle before biting his lip and thrusting into the air, making obnoxious fake moans.
“Dude stop ! We are going to get a noise complaint from the people on this floor if you keep that up,” He shushed the boy, who raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Well, they better get used to it, I’m trying to get a favorite blonde of mine to get me to moan like that for real .”
Quinn froze for a second – he knew Bert was joking, they kissed, made out, and slept in the same bed together – but they never tried anything more than that. Then he noticed the grin on Bert’s face accompanying his wide, bright eyes, and he grabbed the shoe and threw it back at him, hitting him in the shoulder. Quinn simultaneously loved and hated the way Bert messed with him.
“You fucker,” He laughed, watching Bert rub his shoulder dramatically from the shoe’s impact. “Did you wanna do anything for your birthday? I know we celebrated last night, during the recording session and all, but I thought I’d ask, just in case.”
Bert leaned against the wall, hands fidgeting in the pockets of his too-big shorts, and Quinn knew he was ready for a cigarette by the way he stood. Bert’s recovery was going smoothly, they all still smoked and drank and partied, but Bert was off the hard shit now. Quinn knew it was probably difficult, and he knew how heavily Bert relied on cigarettes at the moment.
“I think just exploring the city will do it for me, we can always find something fun to do later – besides birthday sex, obviously . Now let’s goooo, I’m sick of this hotel room!” Bert whined, sending a wink in Quinn’s direction. He scoffed in response, but decided to wink back, it’s not like they were being serious about sex, and it’s not like this flirting meant anything. Quinn was just getting in his own head too much like he always did.
He chose to not reply as he grabbed a jacket off the ground, clutching the fabric before sliding it on. He felt his shirt rise up while putting the jacket on, and for a split second, Quinn swore he saw the other boy’s eyes on him and his slightly exposed mid-drift, before Bert’s attention shifted onto something else.
They’d seen each other naked hundreds of times – this wasn’t anything abnormal, hell, it was a peak of skin above Quinn’s waistband, but something about that minuscule moment felt so different.
“Do I need a jacket?” Bert spoke up, already standing by the door, and Quinn laughed at the sight of him. The faded blue shirt that was too long on him, a pair of baggy shorts, tall crew socks that were somehow still white, and the only pair of shoes Quinn had seen him in.
“It’s February, in London . Yes, Bert, grab a jacket.”
Bert stuck his tongue out at him, before picking up a black hoodie that was on the floor next to them. He slid it over his small frame, and Quinn knew he’d still be cold, but he also knew Bert would protest if Quinn got him to wear a heavier coat.
“Ready?” Quinn asked, walking towards the door and leaning against the wall. Bert smirked as he approached him, before quickly planting a kiss on Quinn’s lips, catching him by surprise. Before Quinn could kiss him back, Bert was already walking through the door, laughing to himself. Quinn reached up and touched his lips, tasting a slight hint of cigarettes, before smiling and following the smaller boy out the door.
As they walked through the hotel hallway, Quinn almost considered grabbing Bert’s arm to stop him from running up to random hotel doors and knocking on them, before hurrying away. By the time Bert was on his sixth room, Quinn shook his head as he took a deep breath. He reached for Bert’s hand, tightly interlocking his fingers with his, and tugged him close.
“We don’t wanna get in any more trouble than we already are, Bert. Come on, there’s a cafe a block away from here. The more time you spend fucking around in the hotel, the less time we have out in the city,” Quinn explained, walking briskly, almost dragging Bert alongside him by his hand. Bert laughed, nodding as he walked with Quinn.
Even though Bert was cooperating at this point, neither of them let go of the other’s hand until they got outside, so Bert could smoke as they walked to the cafe. Bert’s hand in Quinn’s felt natural, and it was warm, and a little sweaty, and Quinn loved the way his hands were smoother than Quinn’s. Playing guitar does a number on the hands – Quinn knew the number of calluses on his fingers and palms felt rough and sturdy, but Bert’s were still soft, and his hands were smaller than Quinn’s.
“Want one?” Bert asked, snapping Quinn out of his thoughts as he held up a cigarette to Quinn. He nodded and took it out of Bert’s hand, putting the end of it in his mouth. “You got a light?” He asked, the cigarette between his teeth. Bert grinned, pulling out a lighter and lighting up his own cigarette. Quinn reached for the lighter, but Bert held it out of his reach.
“Come here,” Bert smirked, and Quinn brought his face closer to Bert’s.
Quinn was expecting Bert to light it for him, but instead, Bert touched the end of his lit cigarette to Quinn’s. Quinn’s eyes widened, and he inhaled, watching the end of his cigarette start to smoke and turn red.
“Nifty,” He laughed, blowing the smoke into Bert’s face. Bert nodded, taking a drag of his own. The two continued to walk together, their cigarettes finished by the time they reached the cafe. Quinn opened the door for the boy and watched as he shuffled inside, the smell of smoke strong between the both of them.
“What are you getting?” Bert asked Quinn, and Quinn shrugged, pulling out his wallet to see how much money he even had to spend. Luckily, he had about sixty pounds left, which meant he had enough for meals today, alcohol for tonight, and a cab ride to the airport the next day. “Probably a coffee and a pastry, what about you?”
Bert bit down on his lip. “I’m not sure, I don’t really have money right now.”
“It’s your birthday, sort of, let me pay for you. Don’t worry about it,” Quinn smiled, and he watched as Bert’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He knew Bert was about to protest, so he pushed the boy to the register so he could order.
“Can I, um, fuck. Quinn, you go first,” He stammered, and Quinn chuckled. He asked for a caramel macchiato and a croissant before Bert perked up and also asked for a croissant.
“You don’t want a coffee?” Quinn asked, and Bert smiled and shook his head. “Nah, I’ll just have some of yours.”
Quinn rolled his eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart beat a little faster. He loved how they shared things. He hoped this was something that always stayed the same – whether it was sharing beds, clothes, or coffee, he loved how his things were Bert’s and Bert’s were his.
The server told Quinn the total, and he pulled out some cash, handing it over to her. She quickly counted the change, placing it in his palm, and he shuffled the money back into his wallet. The two waited at the register for a few moments as she made Quinn’s drink, and he watched as Bert placed his hands on the counter, shifting up and down on his toes.
“Energetic?” Quinn asked, smirking, and Bert playfully punched his arm.
“Excited, thinking about tonight.”
Quinn cocked his head slightly, unsure of what that could mean. “What’s happening tonight? You already thought of some plans?”
“Nothing solid, but I know I’ll be drinking, and you’ll be there. That’s a combination for a great night if you ask me,” Bert flashed a toothy grin at him, and Quinn let out a soft laugh, nodding his head.
“I’m flattered,” He replied, taking the coffee out of the server’s hand, yet keeping his eyes on Bert. Bert took hold of the croissants, and Quinn thanked the lady before the two walked over to a small booth in the corner of the cafe. Bert took a seat, and Quinn slid into the seat across from him. He took a sip of his drink, before handing it to Bert, who smiled and gratefully accepted the offer, taking a few sips before putting it down on the table.
“How’d you know I was gonna ask for your coffee just then?” Bert asked, and Quinn shrugged.
“I guess I know you pretty well,” He replied, unable to take his eyes off the boy in front of him. He watched as Bert pulled a piece off of the croissant and tossed it into his mouth, looking out the window at the busy city. He moved closer to the glass and exhaled on it. A small part of the glass fogged up, and Bert wrote the letter Q through the fog with his finger, before turning back to Quinn.
Quinn wasn’t sure what that meant, but he moved towards the window as well, and repeated Bert’s actions, watching the glass fog up. He then traced a B onto his side of the glass.
“You copied me,” Bert grinned, grabbing the cup off the table and taking another drink.
“Yeah, I did. Now, this corner of the cafe will be ours. Well, ours until someone washes the window,” Quinn chuckled, taking a bite out of his croissant. Bert’s eyes widened, and Quinn swore that Bert’s cheeks turned a shade of pink for a split second. The two quickly ate the rest of their breakfast, and before Quinn could even lean back in the booth and breathe, Bert stood up and moved out of his seat. He grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
“I wanna see the city, let’s go!”
Bert basically dragged Quinn out of the cafe, his small, cold hand intertwined with Quinn’s. The two made their way to a busier street, filled with a bunch of stores, restaurants, and people.
By the time they made it back to their hotel, Bert was basically shivering, and Quinn was holding a twelve-pack of beer. He set it on the dresser, and Bert quickly opened the box. He pulled out a can and tossed it to Quinn, before reaching in and grabbing one for himself.
“To conquering London together,” Bert grinned, cracking open his beer and holding it up towards Quinn as a toast. Quinn smirked as he opened his own can, and mirrored Bert, holding his drink up.
“And to you, happy birthday, Bert.”
He clinked his beer to Bert’s, and they each took a large swig from their drinks. It wasn’t long before they were each about three beers in, and somehow Quinn ended up sitting on the edge of their bed, watching as Bert dug around the hotel room.
“What are you looking for?” Quinn asked, and Bert stayed silent, before finding a key, holding it up to him and shaking it.
“I wanna shotgun a beer, and you’re gonna do it with me!” He replied, and Quinn rolled his eyes as he got off the bed and walked over towards the boy. Bert held out a beer for him, but when he reached to take it, Bert moved his hand back, his eyes playful.
Quinn took a few steps closer, eyeing the smaller boy, who was trying to hold the drink out of his reach.
And maybe it was the beer, or the way Bert was taunting him, or maybe it was the constant need Quinn had to touch Bert that propelled Quinn to grab a handful of Bert’s shirt, tugging him closer. Bert let out a soft gasp, and he noticed Bert’s eyes widen. Quinn kept his hold on his shirt, and the two just stared at each other, until Quinn mumbled a quiet, “Fuck it,” and moved his hand into Bert’s hair, pulling him into a rough kiss.
Bert immediately dropped the can which hit the ground with a thud. Quinn tightened his hand on the black hair, and he moved another hand onto Bert’s waist, pulling him closer. Bert’s body was hot against his, and he was too short, so he got onto his tiptoes before he slung his hands over Quinn’s shoulders.
Bert bit down lightly on Quinn’s bottom lip, and he was so warm, and he tasted like beer and smoke. Quinn let go of Bert’s hair, bringing his other hand to the other side of Bert’s waist. He was so small, and Quinn ran his hands under Bert’s shirt, touching each and every rib, before moving his hands lower, feeling the way Bert’s hips were slightly wider than his waist. His hands were cold against Bert’s bare skin, but Bert didn’t care, he knew Bert didn’t care, because Bert was leaning into him, kissing him back, showing no signs of hesitation.
Quinn broke the kiss, and Bert looked so pretty as he looked up at Quinn through his eyelashes, his mouth slightly parted, his lips redder than normal. There were no words, Quinn had nothing to say and neither did Bert as Quinn grabbed the hem of Bert’s shirt, tugging it over his head, revealing the pale body he’s seen hundreds of times.
But seeing his body now was so much different than any other time.
Quinn traced his fingers over Bert’s hip bones, admiring each and every visible inch of skin on the boy in front of him.
“You are fucking unreal,” He breathed out, and Bert basically threw himself back onto Quinn, his mouth hot and desperate.
One of Quinn’s hands found itself back in Bert’s hair, collarbone-length, wavy dark strands getting tangled in his fingers. He grabbed a handful and pulled Bert’s head back with a hard tug, exposing his neck. He felt Bert tense up from the sudden pain, but the gasp that left his lips was heavenly, and Quinn wanted to chase that sound forever. He moved his way to Bert’s neck, breathing softly against it as he continued to hold Bert’s hair tightly.
“I want you, fuck , so fucking pretty for me. You know that?” He said as he planted soft kisses onto Bert’s neck. Bert leaned closer into him.
“Yeah, of course, I know that. Just for you,” Bert pressed himself into Quinn at that moment, his hips grinding against him. The friction and the feeling of Bert pressing against Quinn’s cock caused him to let out a light moan, and at that point, it was all too much for Quinn. He broke away from him, before taking Bert’s hand in his and nodding his head towards the bed.
“Do you, um, wanna?” Quinn felt less confident as he implied what he wanted to do with Bert – but those insecurities quickly dissipated the moment Bert flashed him a grin, nodding his head. Bert tugged him over to the bed, and pulled off Quinn’s shirt, before delicately grazing his fingers over the crown tattoo on his stomach.
“You’re so hot,” Bert smirked, eyes still glued on his abdomen, and his hands against Quinn’s body were cold and smooth, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Quinn took hold of Bert’s hands in his as he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling him up to do the same. However, instead of Bert sitting next to him, he wrapped his arms around Quinn’s neck loosely and climbed on top of the boy, sitting directly on Quinn’s lap. Quinn let out a soft groan from Bert’s ass grinding down against his already hard cock, and he wanted to desperately take both of their pants off, but decided to take it slow. He had never been with a guy like this before, and he was pretty sure Bert hadn’t either – so he was pretty much gonna have to guess what to do to Bert.
Bert began kissing up and down Quinn’s neck before his mouth found Quinn’s collarbones, which protruded outwards and complimented his broad shoulders. Bert sunk his teeth into the bone, earning a sudden inhale from Quinn, before he sucked the same spot, being sure to leave a mark. Quinn snaked a hand into Bert’s hair, pulling his head off his neck to make eye contact, and he saw that the boy was smirking, his bottom lip slightly between his teeth as he grinned.
“You fucker,” Quinn grinned back, causing Bert to laugh slightly as he pulled him back into a kiss. Quinn wasn’t mad at the hickey in the slightest, in fact, he couldn’t be happier. The only marks the two usually left on each other were bruises from their fights, but this time Bert left a mark that proved he wanted Quinn. And something about being wanted by Bert McCracken felt like the greatest award one could ever receive.
He lightly sucked on Bert’s bottom lip before he broke the kiss, letting out a light “ Fuck ,” when he felt Bert’s ass press a little harder than normal against his hard-on. He put his hands on Bert’s hips and looked into the boy’s eyes.
“Can we move back on the bed a little?”
Bert nodded, getting off of him. Quinn watched as Bert undid his belt and pulled his shorts off, revealing a pair of plaid boxers that Quinn was pretty certain were his – before Bert moved to the middle of the bed and laid down, black hair sprawled out messily underneath him. Quinn quickly removed his own belt and jeans as fast as he could, and then he finally met Bert on the bed, getting on top of him.
The sight of Bert under him was almost too good to be true – and Quinn didn’t know how to even process it. His petite and feminine frame, pale skin, forehead slightly glistening with sweat and a few strands stuck to it, and those fucking blue eyes were making Quinn weak, and he couldn’t deny that he’d rather have this view of Bert than anything else in the entire world.
Quinn interlocked his fingers with Bert’s, slightly putting pressure on his hands as he shifted his weight on top of Bert, and the moment he ground his hips down against Bert, the smaller boy let out a moan against Quinn’s lips.
“Holy shit , Bert,” Quinn breathed, his lips grazing Bert’s, and Quinn felt Bert’s hips slightly buck up against his as if he was subconsciously begging to be touched more.
Quinn was very happy to provide that.
He removed one hand from Bert’s, and moved it lower, palming Bert through his boxers. At first, Bert tensed up slightly, but the second Quinn’s hand was on his cock with only a thin layer of cloth between them, he moaned softly, high-pitched and desperate.
“ Please , please, Quinn,” Bert whined, and he placed a kiss softly on Bert’s mouth.
“Of course,” Quinn said as he pulled off Bert, moving down the bed until he was between Bert’s legs. He slipped his fingers under the waistband before looking at Bert, who was staring back with wide eyes.
“Can I?” He asked, and the second Bert began to nod, Quinn pulled the boxers swiftly off his legs, revealing Bert’s cock, hard against his lower stomach. He placed his hand around it, trying to get used to the idea of another man’s dick in his hand. Quinn knew how to touch a dick – he’d done it himself hundreds of times, but this was so different. He watched as Bert moved his hips upwards, pushing himself further into Quinn’s hand.
“Quinn,” He gasped, throwing his head onto the pillow behind him, knuckles white from gripping the sheets. “Please, touch me .”
“Someone’s impatient,” Quinn grinned, and Bert lifted his head as he opened his mouth to reply, but Quinn squeezed Bert’s cock, moving his hand up and down, giving Bert the friction he was pleading for. Bert exhaled as he let his head fall back again. Quinn retracted his hand from Bert before he spit into his palm. He quickly took hold of Bert again, spreading the spit up and down his cock, and it became a lot easier to jerk him off now that his dick was slick with Quinn’s spit.
Quinn kept his eyes locked on Bert while his hand moved up and down, enthralled by the sight of Bert breathing deeply, hands and nails digging into the hotel sheets, barely able to keep still. Quinn was painfully hard at this point, but nothing mattered except the boy in front of him, he was way too focused on how absolutely stunning he was as Quinn jerked him off.
Quinn picked the pace up as he used his free hand to grip Bert’s thigh, digging his fingers into the pale, soft skin. Bert was a moaning mess by this point, and Quinn loved every sound that escaped his mouth. He wasn’t surprised that Bert was so vocal, but he still was shocked that he got to hear the gorgeous sounds that were due to his touch – it boosted Quinn’s pride and also made him have to try really hard to hold back from jerking himself off.
“Oh, oh my god , Quinn. I’m so fucking close, please don’t stop,” Bert whimpered, his voice shaky and breathy, and Quinn didn’t reply but rather kept up a steady pace as he massaged Bert’s thighs with his other hand. It wasn’t long until Bert reached his hand out, and Quinn took it in his with no hesitation, locking his fingers around Bert’s, holding him tightly as he stroked Bert’s cock.
“Can I come?” Bert asked with a whine, and that was it for Quinn – the rebellious, insane, ‘take no shit’ boy was sweaty, out of breath, and asking Quinn for permission to come.
“Fuck, yes. Please, baby,” Quinn exhaled, not even giving the pet name a second thought as he saw and felt Bert finish in his hand – his back arching and hand squeezing Quinn’s, moaning as Quinn stroked him through his orgasm. Quinn slowed down his pace, watching as Bert took a few deep breaths, recovering. He finally took his hand off of the boy and stood up to grab a towel from the bathroom, but was stopped as Bert tightened his hold on Quinn’s hand.
“W–where are you going?” Bert asked between breaths, and Quinn smiled at him and held up his hand.
“Gonna wash my hand and get you a towel to clean you up.”
“But, you didn’t–” Bert started, and he was right – Quinn was achingly hard in his boxers.
“I know, but it’s okay! I don’t wanna make you do any work, I mean, consider that your birthday gift,” Quinn cut Bert off as he walked into the bathroom, and he heard Bert groan in response as he rinsed Bert’s cum off of his hand.
He returned with a towel and wiped away the cum that was on Bert’s thighs and stomach, and when he looked up to meet Bert’s eyes, he saw the boy was glaring at him, his blue eyes narrow and brows furrowed.
“What?” Quinn asked, raising his eyebrow as he threw the towel onto the floor and got onto the bed to lay beside Bert.
“Why don’t you want me to get you off? That isn’t fair,” He pouted, and Quinn looked up at the ceiling, barely able to hide his smile.
“Of course I want you to get me off, I just, I don’t know. I wanted to do something for you, I don’t want you feeling like you have to make me finish just because you came,” Quinn shrugged, and Bert turned towards him, laying on his side, his hand under his head.
“I’ll have you know that I don’t feel like I have to get you off just because you did that for me, I want to make you come because you’re hot, and I like you, and I want you. Like, really fucking bad.”
Quinn turned on his side to meet Bert’s face.
“You promise?” He asked, and Bert nodded, scooting in closer to plant a soft kiss on Quinn’s lips.
“Stand up,” Bert said after he pulled away, and Quinn let out a nervous laugh.
“Huh? Why?” He asked, confused. Bert rolled his eyes and got off the bed, holding his hand out. Quinn placed his hand in Bert’s, and soon he was tugged off the bed to his feet. Before he could say or do anything, Bert dropped to his knees and pulled down Quinn’s boxers, watching him with his huge eyes, peering through his lashes. Quinn moved his hand down and stroked Bert’s hair, feeling his heart pound at the sight of the boy on his knees in front of him. He wished he could exist at this moment with Bert forever.
“Have you ever done this before?” Quinn asked, and Bert shook his head.
“Nah, but I’m good with my mouth,” Bert said casually, and Quinn laughed in response. Bert took Quinn into his mouth, and Quinn’s grip on Bert’s hair tightened as he let out a deep breath.
“Jesus Christ ,” He gasped, and Bert hummed as he brought his mouth down on his cock after swirling his tongue around the tip. Bert was right – he was good with his mouth, and Quinn loved every second of it.
Staying in London for an extra couple of days was one of the best ideas Quinn and Bert had ever had.
––––
Quinn wasn’t sure if this was sustainable, healthy, or good for the band.
But that didn’t matter to him – because regardless of anything else, this was real . Bert and him, they were real, and Quinn wouldn’t trade that for the world.
Branden and Jepha soon caught on to their dynamic a few weeks after London, and at first, Quinn was scared to death. He had no idea how Bert would react, he had no idea how his bandmates would react. He knew no one in the band was homophobic – hell , Bert would kiss Jepha and flirt with Branden on stage, but performances were one thing, actually being with a man was another.
But the two didn’t care. They simply acknowledged it, showed their support, and continued on with the band like nothing ever changed. It felt good to know that Quinn was allowed to be with Bert, allowed to hold his hand and kiss his forehead whenever he wanted to without risk of judgment. Jepha even told them that he had his suspicions, explaining how Quinn had a very specific smile that he only saved for Bert, and before Quinn could deny it, Bert said it was one of his favorite things about Quinn.
The only negative aspect of the situation was the fact that Quinn wasn’t dating Bert. The two still slept in the same bed, they spent almost all their time together, and they kissed and fucked and fought. But they weren’t in a relationship.
Bert made that very clear.
“We can’t date, the album isn’t finished yet.” And Quinn waited until the album was finished.
“We can’t date, if anyone in the media found out about it, our band would be fucked.” And Quinn would say how he would be perfectly fine keeping it a secret.
“We can’t date.” And Quinn had nothing to say, because there weren’t any excuses anymore – just Bert’s preference. Bert didn’t have a reason for why he didn’t want to date Quinn, or maybe he did and he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Quinn didn’t know, he didn’t want to know. At first, it hurt a lot. He didn’t understand Bert, he was confused and the uncertainty reminded him of how he felt when Quinn first began catching feelings. However, after a couple of weeks and a lot of talks with Branden, he realized it was probably for the best.
This way, if Bert kissed Jepha on stage, he couldn’t get mad, because they weren’t dating.
This way, if Bert spent more time with other people on tour than with Quinn, he couldn’t get mad, because they weren’t dating.
This way, if Bert began hooking up with someone who wasn’t him, he couldn’t get mad, because they weren’t dating.
Quinn leaned his head back into his pillow, black hair tickling the side of his face. Bert moved closer to him, his small, bony arms wrapped around Quinn's waist, his head resting on Quinn’s chest and one leg was thrown over Quinn’s body – as if Bert wasn’t ever going to let go of him.
Quinn knew he didn’t have to hold onto him like that, because he would never even think about leaving Bert. He couldn’t fathom living in a world that didn’t include Bert by his side, and Quinn knew in his heart that in any timeline, Bert and he would be in each other’s lives forever.
Quinn kissed the top of Bert’s head, and Bert turned and looked up at him, his tired eyes staring dreamily at Quinn. He couldn’t get over how beautiful Bert was – he would never get tired of seeing his face right before falling asleep, and then again in the morning when he first woke up.
“Goodnight, Quinn. I love you,” He yawned sleepily, softly placing a quick kiss on Quinn’s lips before returning to his prior position, head on Quinn’s chest. He loved how Bert’s kisses still tasted like cigarette smoke.
“Goodnight, Bert. I love you too.”
Quinn smiled at the boy who was laying on him. He might be living in uncertainty when it came to Bert, but at this point, he didn’t care at all. It didn’t matter what their label was, or how official it was because Quinn knew what they had was real – and no one could take that from them. What they had was fateful, it was special, it was personal, and he knew that everything between them was a beautiful mess. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the entire world.
Quinn just hoped Bert felt the same way.