As promised, Jedao contacts him the next before it starts. Just after Jedao's lunch shift, Quentin gets a one-word text: "Starting."
A few hours later - two and half, maybe three - Jedao has written twenty different notes and deleted them all. As soon as you can, Quentin asked him, and he promised. He promised. Everything in text sounds so curt. Anything less than curt feels unbearable. He feels like he's ripping chunks out of his heart.
His heart is faithless. His heart belongs to a different order of monster. And Quentin's hand was just the sort of hand he liked, perfectly shaped for gathering up the silk strings -
His stomach turns over, even though it's long emptied of all its contents. Quentin, Quentin, Quentin. Even the sounds of their names are similar.
"It's done," he whispers finally, an auditory channel that he can't take back and fail to send yet again.
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timeasmymeasure
Text+voice
Date: 2018-09-18 01:01 am (UTC)A few hours later - two and half, maybe three - Jedao has written twenty different notes and deleted them all. As soon as you can, Quentin asked him, and he promised. He promised. Everything in text sounds so curt. Anything less than curt feels unbearable. He feels like he's ripping chunks out of his heart.
His heart is faithless. His heart belongs to a different order of monster. And Quentin's hand was just the sort of hand he liked, perfectly shaped for gathering up the silk strings -
His stomach turns over, even though it's long emptied of all its contents. Quentin, Quentin, Quentin. Even the sounds of their names are similar.
"It's done," he whispers finally, an auditory channel that he can't take back and fail to send yet again.