“I can’t believe I didn’t notice we were being followed,” Quinn muttered.
August intertwined their fingers, and the smile from before returned to its former brightness. “I thought it was cute, but I guess it’s hard to see what’s going on around you when you’re too busy looking at me.”
Quinn squeezed his hand in silent retaliation. “Shut up.”
August’s laugh was infectious, and Quinn found himself smiling alongside him.
“You really don’t mind?” asked August.
Was Quinn ready to have a bunch of strangers on the internet hunting down information about him? No.
Did he like holding hands with August? Yes.
The two cancelled each other out, and since the pictures had already been taken, he may as well enjoy himself and try his best to go with it.
“It is what it is at this point,” said Quinn. “As long as you don’t lash out when someone asks you a question about your sexuality, consider me unbothered.”
August seemed satisfied with his answer, but just because they had made it over that small hurdle didn’t mean Quinn wasn’t thinking about August’s previous words.
Did August and his mother have a falling out? Quinn couldn’t remember hearing August talking negatively about her, but he also hadn’t been keeping up with hometown gossip because the drama did nothing but bring him pain.
Quinn was so busy pondering what had happened that he didn’t realize they had reached their destination until they were standing in front of a massive building with bizarre glass windows, and his legs went shaky.
He would recognize the building anywhere because Quinn had been wanting to visit again for the longest time, and he was confused by August’s choice to bring him there.
“Did you ask Eren for tips?” Quinn asked.
August cringed like something sour had just been shoved in his mouth. “Did I ask Callahan, my captain, for tips about where to bring his brother for a date? Fuck no.”
Well, when he put it like that…
“You’re an artist, and this is an art gallery,” said August, giving him the simple explanation. “I figured it was a safe bet.”
“This isn’t an art gallery,” said Quinn. “This istheArt Gallery of Ontario. I came here once after high school, and that visit is what made me want to major in art.”
August was brushing his fingers over Quinn’s cold ones in a repetitive, self-soothing motion. “Wait, does this mean I did a good job? I can’t tell because you look a little mad—but I’m also hearing excitement, so help a guy out.”
Quinn nudged their arms together in a soft, playful bump meant to shake August out of his spiralling thoughts. “You did so good,” he murmured, using the same warm, coaxing tone he’d used the night he tied August up—and knowing exactly what it would do to him.
As he had hoped, August reacted with a flutter of lashes and a dopey smile, looking eager to earn more praise from him.
And Quinn would give it, but first—
“Come on,” said Quinn, tugging August’s arm. “Let’s get out of the cold. I want to ramble on about art facts so I can get revenge for your weird hockey list earlier.”
August followed, smirking despite Quinn’s threats. “Except Iwantto hear you talk about your passion,” and then added, “I like the sound of your voice.”
Quinn’s heart tripped beneath his ribs, fluttering in a way that made him feel suddenly, stupidly exposed, like it wanted to break free and throw itself into August’s hands.
A low, electric buzz crawled through his body as they stepped inside and paid the entry fee, and Quinn knew he wouldn’t be able to stand still, let alone enjoy the quiet, unless he did something with this pent-up energy.
There weren’t many people around since it was nearing dinner time, and the city was alive with hockey fans, so no one saw Quinn pushing August into a bathroom, hiding them from sight.
August didn’t protest as Quinn brought them to the last stall, double-checking that they were alone before they were inside with the door locked.
“What are you—”
Quinn walked into his space, crowding August against the tiled wall as their breathing turned ragged. “Just a kiss,” he said.
