‘What?’
‘Those trousers look good on you.’
Quinn recalled his ordeal with Noah in the graveyard. The hippie trousers struck again.
‘Go home, Daniel. You’re tired.’
Daniel saluted, smirking, and headed to wherever it was he lived. Quinn looked at the converted church building and up to his apartment window above his shop, where a lot of nicer clothes waited for him.
The longer he stayed out on the street, the bigger the opportunity for people to see his hippie trousers. He headed into the shop and closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood and taking a deep breath.
The champagne. The spotlight. Noah.
He couldn’t think any more about it.
Kings & Queens was his labour of love. Once falling apart, it was now perfect. Queer flags flitted from the ceiling, and across the bookshelves, from trans representation to asexual recognition. Lines of books stacked on oak shelves, reaching up to the ceiling. Good on Daniel Craig to align the books before leaving. Christmas table displays sellingA Christmas Carolglittered under the twinkling lights strung between the aisles.
The floor, reinforced varnished wood, creaked under his feet. The place used to be Hay’s very own church centuries ago. Now, it was a place of safety for a community Quinn felt needed serving in Hay.
He placed his wet trousers in a paper bag at the foot of his checkout counter.
His phone buzzed again, and the peace and serenity came crashing to the ground. Tense, he looked at the text message on the screen.
I miss you.
Dougie.
Dougie had broken up with Quinn almost six months ago. It had been hard because he left when things started getting tough for Quinn. He didn’t share his concerns when Dougie announced he needed to leave. It also didn’t help that Dougie left on their one-year anniversary.
Classy.
‘I’m moving,’ Dougie declared in this very shop. ‘To Cardiff.’
He said it as though the city was the most foreign, faraway land in the world. Not an hour and twenty minutes away.
‘And I think we should see other people,’ Dougie finished.
Quinn couldn’t even remember what happened after that. All he could think of was that above them, his apartment was decorated for their one-year anniversary. That night should have been special.
Until Dougie, Quinn had let no one in. Who needed love? He much preferred getting lost in the pages of romance novels. That way, he couldn’t get hurt.
He also knew that Dougie had walked all over him.
Quinn was notorious for letting people do that to him. Only Dougie was the one with the heaviest feet.
A defence mechanism, maybe. But he never fought back. He hated confrontation to begin with. Then he doubted his own knowledge when making a point. Yes, it was much better to appease the other person by nodding along and giving them three bags full, sir. And those romance novels let him escape to a world where the men were perfect, and people like him owned their beliefs.
Quinn let Dougie, his first love, step over him on his way out. Six months later, he had moved on and fallen back into the rhythm of life before Dougie.
Now that rhythm was hit with the blues. His phone buzzed.
Cardiff isn’t the same without you.
When had he even been in Cardiff with him?
It wasn’t like they had any memories there.
His phone buzzed again, and this time an image of Dougie’s dick graced his screen.
