Still, here and there, modern touches broke up the nostalgia. Recessed lighting glowed softly from the ceiling, and discreet wall vents hinted at a central heating system. The kitchen was all stainless steel and marble countertops, a stark contrast to the rest of the home, but somehow August had made it work. The bathrooms he peeked into had been upgraded too, with sleek fixtures and rainfall showerheads, but the clawfoot tub and vintage mirrors had been left in place. It was a careful blend of eras, and Quinn reluctantly admired it.
He passed a study filled with August’s trophies, certificates, and framed articles—each piece arranged with almost military precision. Another door opened into what looked like a recreational room that had a pool table with green felt, a small bar stocked with expensive liquor, and a record player set up beside a tall shelf filled with vinyl. A half-finished jigsaw puzzle sat on a side table, suggesting someone actually used the space rather than just staged it.
Niko’s room, clearly the most lived-in spot on the main floor, was easy enough to identify. A stray hoodie hung off a chair, and a pair of sneakers sat by the door. Out of respect, Quinn left it alone to search other areas.
Eventually, his wandering led him back to the living room. The furniture was modern, but softened by plush throws and warm lighting fromthe corner lamp. Quinn sank into the couch with a quiet groan, allowing the cushions to swallow him whole.
The house was too quiet when his ears were still ringing faintly from the buzz of the crowd earlier. He leaned his head back against the armrest, eyes drifting to the fireplace that was begging to be lit, and decided he was a fucking moron for coming here.
A loud chime on his phone startled him into a momentary panic. Quinn dug it out of his pocket and checked the screen, frowning when he saw Eren’s name.
Eren: Don’t worry about taking the girls tomorrow, I got it covered. I know you’re not getting home until later since Cote told me that you’re refusing to let him go home
Quinn fought the urge to roll his eyes. Who would have thought that a bunch of grown men who beat the shit out of each other for a living would be such drama queens?
Quinn: Fine. Stop texting me and enjoy your night.
He waited for Eren to say something cringy and overprotective regarding August, but he was surprised when the subject was dropped, and he was left alone.
Well, only until his host came trampling down the stairs and joined him in the living room, shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. August had a fluffy blue towel draped over his white hair, which was still dripping wet.
Quinn’s glare tracked the droplets as they slid down August’s chest, glinting against pale, tattooed skin. They followed the curve of hard muscle, teasing down over his sculpted abs before vanishing into the shadow of his waistband.
August looked down at himself. “What? Did I miss any blood?”
Quinn shimmied upright, keeping his back against the armrest and providing ample space so August wouldn’t have to sit close to him. “No, it’s just—your tattoos. I thought you would never get any because of your parents.”
The tattoos were impossible to ignore. They weren’t random or an impulse walk-in; they were too large and would have taken multiple appointments to complete. Bold black lines carved across August’s pale skin in geometric symmetry, sweeping over both shoulders and angling toward his chest where they met in a ‘V’ between his pecs.
The designs also branched down his arms like stylized circuitry or sigils from an old ritual text. The light caught the wet ink and made it glisten, emphasizing every curve of muscle beneath. When August shifted, the lines seemed to move with him,making them appear alive, like a certain symbiotic alien from the Marvel Universe.
Quinn’s gaze tracked the patterns as they wrapped around to August’s back, all converging into a single spiral following his spine until they disappeared into his pants. There were scars there too, three long lines that made a diagonal cut across his back, and Quinn knew from experience that tattooing through the damaged tissue on his spine had to have hurt like abitch.
“Cyber-sigilism?” he asked.
August hadn’t moved the entire time Quinn had been staring. He was looking blankly out the window, so motionless that he could have passed for a statue.
“If you’re trying to think of an apology for what happened ten years ago, don’t worry about it,” said Quinn. “It’s not worth melting your brain over.”
Thatsnapped August back into focus, and the intensity of it instantly redirected onto Quinn. “Apology…”
Quinn didn’t remember seeing August take a puck to the head during the game, but he was starting to wonder if he had missed something. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
August pulled the towel off his head, further messing up the short and snowy-white locks. “I’m great,” he said in a tone that suggested he wasn’tgreatat all. “About the apology—”
Quinn flinched, his body nearly going into flight mode when August plopped onto the couch. He hadn’t expected to hear a detailed apology because he figured August would never give it, and now he was regretting the earlier snobby remark.
“I can’t apologize because it’s impossible to be forgiven for what I did.” August had his eyes closed and was rubbing his temple, attempting to soothe the ache of the migraine he had mentioned before. “But Iamsorry, for…whatever it’s worth.”
Quinn didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Was any of it real?”
August was a big guy, but the way he curled in on himself made him seem fragile. “You’re asking if I…”
“Like guys,” Quinn finished, cheeks flushing when he realized there was a fatal flaw in his grand scheme to hook up with him. Because if August wasn’t actually bisexual, and their night together had been the unfortunate moment he realized it, then maybe he hadn’t ghosted Quinn to be cruel; he had just panicked.
“I think so,” said August, glancing at him. “But maybe not. I don’t really remember. It’s all…fucked up in my head.”
Quinn needed to switch the subject before his heart exploded and he keeled over on August’s very nice, expensive couch.
