Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for me to believe that Quintin cared about me or how I felt. It wasn't his job to care. I knew that and so did he, but he cared anyway, even though he didn't want to. He was hurt, and only because he hurt me. Neither one of us understood what was happening. I couldn't comprehend why I had asked him to stop upsetting me instead of "making" him. He had never learned how to respond to gentleness instead of hate. We were scared, nervous, and hurt in ways we hadn't been before, but we couldn't bring ourselves to treat each other the same as every person before.
Some time passed, tense and dismissive.
A week later I found myself with a flat tire. Newly single, tired, and broke, I needed someone who not only had a tire that I could have but also would do it for me,
I asked Quin. He said he could help me if ! could wait until about noon the next day. I could, so I did. I waited until just past noon, as to not seem so eager. Because he was working midnight's, he fell asleep before I messaged him. I was disappointed that I had missed him, I waited too long.
Even though I was very unsure of him, the last interaction we had was not pleasant, I knew that I wanted him, desperately, and unconventionally. I wanted to be around him, to look at him, to hear his voice. I wanted to be a part of whatever he was and I didn't understand why. He tried to make it clear that he didn't are about me, but there was still something there. I didn't know what that something was, but I needed to.
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