A chance at what, Quinn didn’t know. All he had was history, and just like everything else in life, history was doomed to repeat itself. August and Quinn were like magnets that, when pushed too close together, would inevitably snap into place.
Quinn had been arrogant to think he could escape the magnetic force between them, but deep down, he knew what the consequences of his actions would be. He didn’t have to admit it out loud, but heknew.
“August will fall in love with me again,” Quinn told Esme’s name and numbers. “He’ll try not to, just like he did the first time. He’ll make himself miserable to make me happy, because that’s who he is, even when he’s using his anger to push away the hurt.”
August had been temperamental as a teenager, and listening to Eren talk about him suggested that that hadn’t changed. During high school, they had clashed several times before Quinn shut his behaviour down for good, leaving August chasing after him like a loyal puppy who had just had his leash yanked for the first time.
Once Quinn verbally neutered August, the fighting stopped, but then he sank into a level of self-hatred that surpassed Quinn’s own. Thelengths August had gone to avoid his bisexuality had been funny at first, but Quinn changed his mind when he saw how muchsufferingit unleashed.
August would have finished high school still in the closet if Quinn hadn’t put a stop to it. He would have wallowed in that agony just to have Quinn as a friend because he had been too scared to ruin what they had.
August would do it again, too. And Quinn was smart enough to know that August’s mental anguish wasn’t his problem since he had drawn the line and August would be the one to cross it, but it also left him in the same position as before.
So, Quinn could either ignore August’s issues and keep things simple, or he could intervene and give them what they both wanted.
But did he want August?!
Fuck, he hated everything. He wanted to bury himself in the snow beside his sister until people forgot about him. It had only taken August ten years to erase him from memory, so he knew it could be done.
Quinn’s knees were starting to ache from the cold, and his fingers were turning numb. Esme wasn’t there, and she wasn’t going to answer, but he needed to ask her the question he had been brooding over since Eren mentioned something.
“I didn’t go to the party last summer because I hated hockey players, and being in a room full of them soundedawfulat the time, but you pushed me to go,” Quinn began, hugging the undamaged roses to his chest. “I thought at first you didn’t want me to miss it because you knew you were about to die, but then Eren said the two of you cornered August, and it made me think.”
Quinn took a breath, fighting the shakiness out of his voice before he could continue.
“We’re you…planning to reunite us, Esme?”
Another breath.
“Did you know something that I didn’t? Something you couldn’t explain?”
How many times had she brought up August after high school? Quinn didn’t think he could count the number, and in his anger, he’d gotten used to blocking her out. She had taken his side, and she was so disappointed in August. Quinn had endured her prattling about how they were perfect for each other for years, which never failed to infuriate him.
August came up in conversation less as years passed, but when Esme found out she had cancer, it sparked the debate again. Quinn had hated it, but he said nothing as Esme talked about how things used to be,while never once bringing up the fact that she knew where August wasandhad been in close contact with him.
“I hated August for hurting you, Quinn. I wanted more for the two of you, especially now that I know I won’t be here for much longer. You and I may be mirror twins, but you and August are mirror souls. I just wish…things could have worked out while I still had time.”
That was the last time Quinn had heard August’s name leave Esme’s mouth before she died, not long after the party. Her approaching death made it an easy comment to forget about—until now.
Mirror souls.
Quinn, the artist. August, the athlete.
Quinn, the independent. August, the touched-starved.
Quinn, the dominant. August, the submissive.
Quinn, the heartbroken.
August, the heartbreaker.
“I can’t justbewith him, Esme,” Quinn said, his chest heaving from the effort of holding back a scream of frustration. “I would be stupid to fall for him again. They would have to write ‘Idiot Harlow’on my grave instead of my name after August breaks my fucking heart and I die from drowning in my own tears.”
Quinn’s eye caught on the last petal left on the ruined rose, watching as it fluttered madly in the breeze. It was only a matter of time before it broke off and joined the rest in the clear, blue sky, but Quinn gripped it between his fingers to stop it.
He tugged on the petal as if threatening to remove it, but always hesitated before he could fully pluck it from the stem.
August. What was he going to do about August?
