A/N: Eep. Almost three months. Blame writer’s block, university life, and generally every other thing that sucks the life out of someone. Important notes at the end of the story, so please check them out! Also, if you've checked the Some Kind of Wonderful Awards recently, I'm going to be the next author featured on their Ask the Author program! It's going to be a radio-ish interview of sorts with featured songs, questions about my writing, my life, etc. So if you have any questions you may wanna ask me, send them over at their website or email them to Carol at skowinterviews(at)gmail(dot)com.

Not proofread because I hate that stuff. Haha!

QUINNTESSENTIAL

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was early in the morning and Elliot had spent most of his night calling the airline company for his tickets. He knew he could buy and book his tickets online but damnit, he just wasn’t a computer person and couldn’t get any of the instructions. He called up the office for some help, but due to wonderful customer service, the phone lines were busy for most of the night. That was why he woke up extra early.

“Um, so I just print out the form and… fax it to you?”

“No, sir, it’s already a soft copy and it includes a software for you to input your information.”

Soft copy? Software? How the hell was he supposed to know what that was? It took him weeks to learn how to download music illegally, how was he supposed to know what software she was talking about? Elliot pressed the phone closer to his ear while his fingers in his free hand drummed against the kitchen counter’s surface. “Wait… so no one faxes anymore?”

“Not as much as they used to, sir.”

Wow. He totally missed an entire decade of technology. He remembered the time his dad brought home a fax machine like it was a forty-eight inch flat screen TV. “Um. Wait, could you run everything by me again?”

“Okay, sir,” the woman on the other line intoned. “The form we are sending you is in PDF format, with a software that allows you to input your information.”

“… What – “

“Basically, sir, you’ll be sent the form, just type in your information on the corresponding blanks, and email it back to us. There is no need to print and fax.”

Elliot sighed in relief. “Alright, got it,” he said. “What happens – “

He looked up as the door opened. Chuck slipped inside the apartment with Quinn right after him, both of them returning from their routine morning jog. Quinn was wearing his grey sweatpants and a sleeveless, white running shirt. Elliot was about to say good morning when he stopped himself, because Quinn wasn’t even bothering to look up at him. They practically hadn’t said more than ten words to each other ever since Elliot told Quinn he was leaving – and that was about two weeks ago.

“Sir?”

Elliot shook his head and focused back on his phone call, although it was harder to concentrate now that Quinn was inside. “Um… what happens after I send you the form?” Elliot continued, lowering his voice ever-so-slightly. “I can just go to the airport?”

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Quinn yank the refrigerator door open so hard, the entire appliance shook. “We will email you back a reservation form and your boarding pass. This will be your e-ticket, which you will present to the check-in counter at the airport.”

“Oh, okay,” Elliot murmured, scribbling that last bit down on a piece of paper. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

He set the phone down on the counter and glanced back at Quinn. He closed the refrigerator door and he was holding a bottle of water, his shirt slung over his shoulder. Elliot cleared his throat. “Um… I might not go to work today,” he said. “I’m gonna call the moving services and I’ll probably… start packing my things.”

Quinn nodded, and Elliot found himself grateful that he was at least acknowledging his presence. Elliot clicked his pen and set it on the counter top. “Um… are you eating breakfast?”

When Quinn walked away and headed for the bathroom, Elliot realized that the nod was all he probably was going to get for the morning. He hated the silent treatment – of course, Quinn was naturally silent, so it was more of… silent treatment raised to the third power. Elliot sighed and walked over to the couch, plopping himself on it before flipping his laptop open to search for the nearest moving company in the area. Chuck followed him and jumped on the couch to sit next to him.

Quinn didn’t say anything when he left the bathroom, when he went to his room to change, and when he left the flat to head to work. Elliot groaned and slumped against the couch’s backrest, rubbing his hand across his face. He was leaving in six days and he still had so many things to do, and oh, Quinn wasn’t even talking to him. He glared at his laptop screen, at the list of moving services in the area yet he didn’t even feel like calling them up even though he knew he should. He needed to do something else… so he turned on the television, one hand scratching Chuck’s head.

But he couldn’t even watch television because of that nagging grown-up feeling of responsibility that kept bothering him. There were still a lot of things he had to settle. He turned the television off and got to his feet, pacing the room as he listed off the things he still had to do. He had to call the bank to change his address with them, he had to talk to Charlotte about final arrangements of where he was gonna live, he had to talk to Quinn to fix whatever happened wrong before he left – and dammit! He hadn’t even told Mrs. Costello yet that he was leaving.

Elliot leapt over the coffee table on his way to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. His shirt was all worn and old, so he yanked a hoodie over his head before leaving the apartment.

He mentally prepared his lines over and over again during his walk to the café. Taking the bus would have been faster, but he needed more time to find a way to tell Mrs. Costello that it wasn’t that he had forgotten to give her his two weeks notice (although he actually kind of did), it was just that he had been doing other things – but at the same time, he didn’t want to make it seem like he thought so little of his current job with her. He didn’t want to come off as ungrateful – and he still needed his salary for the month. It wasn’t going to be enough to pay for the plane ticket, but maybe he could use it for food and stuff when he got to Dallas.

Elliot slipped through the café’s back entrance so he could avoid Allison and her questions. He didn’t need the distraction because he had thought up the perfect thing to say and he didn’t want to forget –

But of course, all of it disappeared when he opened Mrs. Costello’s door and found Quinn talking to her. Obviously because he was her nephew, he wasn’t sitting on one of the black arm chairs across her desk – the ones Elliot dubbed as the ‘hot seats’. Mrs. Costello was sitting on her chair and Quinn was standing beside her, leaning against her desk with his back to the door. His arm were crossed over his chest and his eyes were trained to the floor as he spoke, yet when Elliot practically barged into the office without even bothering to knock, he paused and looked back at the door.

Elliot was holding the doorknob so tightly, he could have snapped it off its place. “Um. Shit – crap, I’m so sorry, I’ll – uh, outside,” he stammered, stepping out of the room and closing the door after him.

He stood outside Mrs. Costello’s office for a couple more minutes, trying his best to remember the lines he had thought of on the way, but to no avail. Why was Quinn inside the office? He doubted it was a normal, everyday chat. Quinn almost looked kind of solemn for it to be a “Hey, can I have dinner at your place tonight?” kind of chat.

Elliot snapped out of his thoughts when the door opened. Quinn closed the door after he exited the room and he took a quick glance at Elliot. “I thought you said you weren’t going to work,” he said, his voice clipped.

Elliot bit his lip. “I was… but then I remembered I still haven’t told Mrs. Costello I was leaving,” he replied, glancing at the office. “I’m worried she might be mad because I didn’t give her my two weeks notice to find a replacement.”

Replacement.

After he said it, it hit Elliot once more that he was actually leaving in six days. From the look on Quinn’s face, he probably felt it too. In six days, Elliot was going to move out of the apartment and someone else was going to move in to take his place. To replace him. God, it felt so… strange.

Surprisingly, Quinn broke the silence. He turned his face away and stared down the hallway. “She’s not going to be mad,” he said softly.

Elliot looked up at him, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thanks, I’ll take you word for it.”

With one deep breath, Elliot knocked the door and pulled it to step inside. Mrs. Costello was writing something on her desk and fixing papers into folders when she looked up at him. “Oh, Mr. Foster,” she said, taking one quick glance at him before turning back to her work. “I see you know how to knock.”

Elliot blushed, and he wondered if biting sarcasm was a Harper family trait. “Um...”

She held a hand out to one of the chairs. “Please, sit.”

Elliot gulped as he took his place in one of the hot seats, setting his arms on the arm rest as he prepared to be grilled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“So,” she began, writing something down on the folder’s edge. “Why are you here today?”

Elliot took another deep breath before answering. “Um, I came here today to tell you that I’m going to resign,” he paused. Shit. There were too many unnecessary words in that sentence. “I… got offered a job in Dallas, and I need to be there soon... in six days, actually. My… flight’s on the twenty-third.”

Shit. Maybe he had come off as too straightforward.

Mrs. Costello’s eyebrows rose. “You’re leaving too?”

Elliot was too busy worrying if he was projecting the all professional and calm exterior – but that totally caught him off guard. “Huh?” he asked, blinking confusedly. “Sorry, what do you mean, Mrs. Costello?”

She leaned back on her seat as she pulled some drawers behind her desk. “Quinn came in just before you, to tell me he was leaving… a week after you are.”

Elliot frowned as he replayed all the recent conversations he had with Quinn… well, there wasn’t much to replay. He knew Quinn still had years of medical schooling left, so it wasn’t like he was going to be a waiter forever, so he knew Quinn was going to leave eventually to continue them, but Quinn never mentioned he was planning to leave that soon. Elliot fidgeted in his seat. “Oh,” he said, wondering why Quinn hadn’t told him. “He… didn’t tell me that.”

She nodded as she pulled papers from behind her desk and set it in front of him. “Sign that,” she instructed. “It’s your resignation form.”

“Oh,” Elliot said, his tone giving away his surprise. He quickly sat up and scooted to the edge of his seat so he could sign the paper.

Mrs. Costello watched him as he signed. “Did you two have an argument?”

Elliot very nearly messed up his signature when she asked. Her voice was teetering between the tone of a boss and the tone of a close relative… and maybe a bit toward a first grade teacher trying to console two boys fighting over who could use the crayons. “Um, not really,” Elliot said, not really lying, but not really giving her the full details. “I guess… well, he wasn’t that happy when I told him I was leaving. But it’s my fault because I didn’t tell him sooner.”

Mrs. Costello took the paper and set it in its own folder, similar to the one she had been fixing when Elliot first stepped in the room. “Well, you two have definitely been living with each other for a while. You both are starting to act the same,” she commented. “Both of you are just leaving without giving me any time to find people to take your spots.”

As she scribbled his name on the folder’s edge, Elliot realized the papers she had been fixing when he entered the room must have been Quinn’s resignation. “I’m… sorry, ma’am,” he replied, although his mind was already elsewhere.

In fact, Elliot almost didn’t notice his salary check when Mrs. Costello was holding it out in front of him. “Are you going to take it or not, Mr. Foster?”

Elliot quickly took it. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he just zoned out in front of his boss – in front of Quinn’s aunt. “I… uh…”

“Make sure to settle all your affairs before you leave, Mr. Foster.”

Elliot blinked at her. He wondered if she spoke in the same professional manner with Quinn, and if she called him ‘Mr. Harper’. He stood up from the hot seat and stepped forward to awkwardly shake her hand. “Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Costello.”

She smiled as she took his. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Do take care of yourself.”

Elliot nodded and turned around to leave the office. He opened the door and was about to step out when she said, “And Elliot…”

He turned around. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Do settle all your affairs with my nephew too.”

Elliot’s grip tightened around the doorknob as she gazed at him with a studying look in her eyes. He wasn’t going to be surprised if he ended up denting the knob by the end of the morning. “Um, alright, Mrs. Costello.”

When he finally left his former boss’ office, he wanted to slip through the back door once more, but he wasn’t as lucky. He was hounded by Allison and Valerie, Allison even going so far to push him against the wall with her hands on his shoulders.

Elliot held his hands up over his face, feigning fear. “Don’t hurt me,” he said, wincing slightly. “Take anything you want – just don’t hurt me.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh, Elliot, sometimes I wonder how you made it past fifth grade.”

Elliot lowered his hands and frowned. Allison wasn’t as mad as she tried to make herself sound, but still, she wasn’t her usual happy, carefree self. Valerie stepped forward and lowered Allison’s hand from Elliot’s shoulder. “When are you leaving again, Elliot?” she asked, in the mature manner Elliot always admired.

“Six days from now,” he said. “I got my ticket for my flight.”

Allison shook her head. “It’s scary to see you so…”

“Pro-active,” Valerie finished for her.

Elliot scowled. “What are you talking about? I can be pro-active!”

“Yes, Elliot, but it often has to involve food or television,” Valerie pointed out.

Elliot’s mouth was still open, but he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. Meanwhile, Allison leaned against the wall opposite him and stared at him. “I still can’t believe you’re leaving,” she said. “I mean, I always knew we were all gonna leave sometime, but, jeez.”

Elliot sighed. “Come on, Allison, it’s not like you’re going to stay a waitress forever after you get your Creative Writing degree, right?”

Valerie nodded. “And I finally applied for a teaching position in a school nearby,” she said, smiling as both Elliot and Allison proceeded to congratulate her. “I’m waiting to hear from them, but they seemed to like me.”

Allison sighed. “It’s just… wow, it still hasn’t hit me yet,” she muttered. “And you don’t even know yet – “

She stopped and glanced at Valerie, who shook her head. Allison pushed herself off the wall and set her hands on her hips, changing the topic of the conversation before Elliot could get too curious. “You know what this means though,” she said, looking between the two of them. “We need some farewell party for you.”

Elliot smiled slightly, but honestly, he didn’t feel like partying. He actually didn’t feel as happy about leaving as he thought he would. “Um, no thanks, Allison, I still need to – “

“Okay, no party,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Let’s all just get horrendously drunk.”

Valerie smiled. “I second that motion.”

Elliot grinned as he watched the two girls talk about their plans. Dammit, he was going to miss them. Maybe Allison was right… maybe he should finally get one Facebook – or Facenotebook, whatever you call it, it had a stupid name – account thing so they can keep in touch.

Elliot returned home and he was in his room for the rest of the day, finally taking some time to clean up his things and pack them. He was sitting on the floor, his back against his bed frame as he packed his things into cardboard boxes. During the course of his cleaning, he wasn’t all that surprised whenever he discovered old cartons of Chinese foods and cans of soda lying around in corners and beneath his bed. No wonder his room kinda smelled compared to the cleanliness of Quinn’s room. Sometime halfway through his packing session, Chuck entered his room and jumped onto Elliot’s bed, settling comfortably on the empty bed before resting his head on Elliot’s pillow. He gave out a small grunt of satisfaction as he rested his head over his paws.

Elliot looked back at the dog. “Well, at least you’re comfortable,” he muttered, lifting his hand up to scratch the dog behind the ears.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when someone knocked on his door. He looked up and his entire body stilled momentarily when he saw Quinn standing by his door, his hand fixed around the doorknob. “Are…” he asked slowly, and Elliot noticed the way his hand tightened around the metal knob when he saw the cardboard boxes and all of Elliot’s things strewn out on the floor. “Are you busy?”

Elliot quickly shook his head, completely surprised to see Quinn making attempts at conversation. Ever since he told Quinn he was leaving, it was like they had reverted to the first couple of weeks they were living together; the one word replies, the three word sentences, the not-talking-unless-absolutely-necessary kind of thing. It made Elliot realize that over the course of their stay together, they had actually gone through some progress, they had actually started to talk more, and Elliot kind of missed it. Whenever Elliot rambled on about something, even though Quinn didn’t actually say anything, he could tell that Quinn was listening and actually seemed a bit interested. But after he told Quinn he was leaving… every time Elliot tried to strike a conversation, it looked like all Quinn wanted to do was leave the room.

“Um, come in,” Elliot said, holding a folder up as he motioned toward his bed. “You can sit on the bed, but it’s currently occupied.”

Both of them looked up at Elliot’s bed, where Chuck was lying down comfortably, snuggled in his pillows with his paws hanging off the edge of the bed as he watched Elliot with his soft, brown eyes. It hurt Elliot a bit every time he looked back to see the dog watching him, so he tried his best not to look Chuck’s way while he cleaned.

“I don’t usually let him on my bed,” Elliot said, watching Quinn from the corner of his eye as he stepped inside his room. “But… um, yeah…”

Quinn nodded. He didn’t say anything as he stepped toward Elliot’s bed. But instead of sitting on the mattress, he bent his knees and sat down a foot or so from Elliot, also leaning back on the bed frame for support. Silence stretched between them for a few seconds until Quinn picked up a picture frame from the floor and held it in front of him, his thumb running over the clear glass surface. “Is this your family?” he asked, his voice deep in the silence of the room.

Elliot moved toward him, craning his neck to get a view of the picture above Quinn’s lap. It was his family picture after he graduated college – you know, the usual one where the graduate was standing in his graduation gown and cap, squeezed between his mom and dad and siblings if there were any. In the background were the white pillars of the graduation hall and other families taking similar pictures. Of course, a Foster family picture wouldn’t be complete if it didn’t have Elliot’s dad yawning in it, his mouth wide open so his tonsils were visible, with his eyes focused somewhere off camera. Of course, Elliot’s mom was all dressed up, and she had to be caught yelling at the person who was taking the picture, telling whoever it was to make sure to take it right because it was her ‘baby’s’ graduation. Lastly, there was Elliot, squeezed in the middle with a dull, tired expression on his face that clearly read ‘Can I get drunk now?’.

Yet despite that, there was unmistakable love in the picture. There were better pictures of the three of them, but Elliot had chosen that particular one because it… well, reminded him of home, exactly what a picture was for.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning widely as he remembered the day. He laughed. “After the picture was taken my mom started bawling, telling me I was ‘all grown up’ and how she was so proud of me and all that.”

Quinn was unable to stop the corners of his lips turning up as he handed the picture back to Elliot. “Did you tell her about the job in Dallas?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said, taking the picture and gazing at it fondly before placing it in the cardboard box in front of him. “She freaked. My left ear was temporarily deaf for about two hours. Meanwhile, my dad asked if I could find some time to smack some sense Tony Romo.”

Quinn smiled, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes, which looked rather tired and dull. He looked around the room, surveying the empty bookshelf and the cleared desk. “You’re almost done here,” he said slowly, almost like it was an announcement for both of them. His hands clasped together atop his lap.

Elliot cleared his throat as he pulled his lava lamp out of its socket and coiled the plug around the lamp. He taped some packaging foam around it to make sure it wasn’t going to break in case it moved around during the flight. “Well, there wasn’t much to clean up,” he replied, nestling the lamp in beside the rest of his pictures. “And I got restless doing nothing, so I spent most of the afternoon doing this.”

Quinn nodded. His lips pressed into a thin line as he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Things… are going to be quiet,” he murmured, crossing his legs under him. “After you leave.”

“Um… yeah,” Elliot said as he reached for some more folders piled beside him. “Chuck’s a dog, so he can’t talk – and you barely talk as it is. Just imagine how it will be.”

Seconds passed until Quinn replied. “I don’t really want to.” He sat up straight and laughed, a short, humorless laugh that struck something in Elliot.

Elliot glanced at him. “Mrs. Costello – I mean, your aunt, said you were leaving too,” he began. “A week after I am.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

Quinn’s eyes were still set on the floor as he sighed. “I guess I got used to the noise.”

Elliot had lived with Quinn for a long time to know that that was meant to be a good thing; in his own way, Quinn was paying him a compliment. “Thanks…”

“You know what’s funny.” Quinn gave him a short, sideways glance. “I might actually miss watching those basketball games of yours… and I never even liked basketball.”

Elliot looked up at Quinn and narrowed his eyes at him. “Wait. But you didn’t even say anything whenever we watched!” he said, resting his hands on the edge of his cardboard box. “You could have said something, I could have changed the channel. Great, so that meant I totally hogged the television during our entire stay together.”

Quinn shrugged, and silent encased the room once more.

“You know what, Quinn?” Elliot said all of a sudden, glancing up at him as he tried to control the smile on his face. Also, he didn’t want any more silence because it only made him nervous. “Remember that one time when you were sick? And I totally healed you with my super healing powers of chicken soup and my general awesomeness?”

“… What about it?”

Elliot shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I mean, now that I know you’re on your way to be a doctor, I kinda found it funny,” he said, his smile growing wider. “I always find it a bit funny whenever doctors get sick or get a cold or something. It’s like… you never expect doctors to get sick because, you know, they’re doctors.”

Quinn frowned. “Well, if you think about it, doctors are more susceptible to diseases than the average person. Their job requires them to spend time with sick people with various illnesses, thus, heightening the risk of contracting diseases.” He paused. “But if you still think it’s funny – “

“Oh, God,” Elliot groaned, burying his head in his hands. Elliot was surprised he had lasted this long without going crazy. He wondered how another person would have reacted to Quinn’s ability to shoot down jokes… then he wondered how his new flat mate would react to it. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Way to ruin my fun.”

Quinn smiled and he set his hands over his lap as he looked back at Chuck. “I’ll be taking Chuck with me,” he said softly. “If you’re wondering.”

Elliot smiled as relief poured out of him. The thought had plagued him ever since he knew he was going to leave. “Thanks, that makes me feel better,” he said. “I was going to ask… but then… yeah.”

Quinn ran a hand through his dark hair and muttered a few words under his breath. His voice was quiet when he spoke, yet there were so many emotions behind his words. “You’re really leaving.”

Elliot nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the cardboard box. “Yeah…”

“When again?”

“… In six days.”

Quinn swore under his breath. “Fuck, this is so… everything’s so fucked up.”

Elliot glanced at him, gnawing his lip nervously. “It… sorta is, isn’t it?”

Elliot sat up and pushed the cardboard box away from him. “Listen, Quinn,” he said, turning his body so he could face Quinn, but then he stopped. He realized they were sitting much closer than he thought, since his knees were already brushing Quinn’s side.

They were both Indian-sitting on the floor of Elliot’s room, his clothes, his papers, his old boxes of Chinese food strewn all over the place. The entire room was a mess and was silent save for the small grunts Chuck made as he slept. Afternoon sun crept into Elliot’s room from his window, the sunlight striking Quinn’s face, highlighting every sharp feature and every smooth contour that a woman or a man would have found dangerously attractive. The sun tinted his green eyes a warm hazel – eyes that Elliot realized, were fully set on him, and maybe it was the sun, but Elliot realized for the first time that there were so many things brimming behind those green-hazel eyes that betrayed the silent exterior Quinn naturally had.

Elliot swallowed. He suddenly felt uneasy, nervous, and oh yeah, physically inferior to Quinn’s looks. He couldn’t move or speak, and he couldn’t even look away, not even when he felt Quinn’s hand rest anxiously on his knee and when Quinn started leaning forward – and even though every part of him was fully aware of what was happening, telling him to move or say something – he couldn’t. He was trembling, he was so very nervous – and something told him Quinn was too, probably just as much, maybe even a bit more, but that didn’t keep him from staying where he was, and that didn’t keep Quinn from leaning closer until Elliot could feel his warm breath brushing just over his lips and just the sensation of it made Elliot’s entire body shudder –

But then realization sunk in for both of them, at the consequences and complications of going any further when Elliot was leaving in six days. They both pulled back so fast, Elliot holding onto mattress so he could get on his feet, waking Chuck up in the process. Quinn was just as quick in getting to his feet, his cheekbones flushed red as he looked away from Elliot, looking away from what he had almost done.

Elliot bit his lip, the flesh still tingling. “Quinn, that – “

“I’m sorry.”

Elliot stilled. He had been reaching out to Quinn, but he pulled his hand back. “It’s…”

“For almost…” Quinn trailed off and shook his head. “Even though you told me you didn’t want me to do it anymore.”

“… It’s okay.”

Chuck shifted in the bed, curiously looking up between the both of them and probably picking up the tension in the air. They were practically at the opposite sides of the small room, yet Elliot felt so hot, like Quinn was standing less than an inch from him.

“For two weeks…” Quinn sighed, his fists clenching at his sides. He didn’t look at Elliot – it was almost like he couldn’t. “I’ve been so fucking mad for the past two weeks, not even talking to you, and now that – God, you’re leaving in six days…”

“Quinn…”

Elliot stopped when Quinn raised his eyes and gave him a small, sideways smile that looked so very forced and pained around the edges of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’d actually consider staying… if I asked you to?”

Elliot’s eyes widened at Quinn’s words, his mind unable to process any reply, his throat closing up on him. Quinn’s eyes were set on his, waiting, waiting for any answer Elliot didn’t have – but when seconds passed and Elliot still didn’t know what to say, Quinn finally looked away and gave out a short, forced, self-deprecating laugh that Elliot now hated.

“I thought so.”

When Quinn turned and left, he closed the door behind him, and Elliot was still standing in the middle of his room, wondering how he managed to fuck things up so badly when he had only wanted to fix things.

A/N: Ohh, the drama. Or, as my four year old nephew would say… do-rama. Haha! Very important author note, so please, please read them!

1. Thank you so much to those who’ve stayed patient – even though it almost took three months for this chapter to come out. I doubt the next chapter will take as long since I’ve written most of it. It was supposed to be part of this chapter, but I decided to split it into two.

2. I have been nominated for three awards at the Some Kind of Wonderful Awards! If you nominated me, thanks so much! Check it out on my profile – and I’m not forcing you, maybe just hinting, but it would be great if you could vote if you think I’m worthy! :)

3. Lastly, if you don’t know yet, I posted an accompaniment piece to this story and it’s called Because Elliot Rhymes with Idiot. It’s going to be a series of one shots revolving around this story, not necessarily from Quinn or Elliot’s point of view only. The next one could be Allison, or Valerie, or some random person in the café! Check it out and put it on your alerts, I’m planning to update it soon! :)
Update 8-02-09: The second part of BERwI is out! :)

4. Check out my new heterosexual (haha) fiction, A Simple Song for Lori!

And here ends the ridiculously long author note. Thanks for reading this chapter – please leave your thoughts behind! :)

To the milk bottle,

Did you know that milk is the official state beverage of Arkansas, Delaware, Louisiana, Minnesota, Mississippi, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Vermont, Virginia, and Wisconsin?

Now it’s time to overthrow Nebraska and their damn… Kool-Aid? Wait, no, seriously? Nebraska's got Kool-Aid as their state beverage?

... Let's skip Nebraska.

Your calcium deficient friend,

Your name.

Yeah, I’ve used that before, I just edited it a bit. I dunno, I keep laughing whenever I see Nebraska’s state drink is Kool-Aid. Of course, no offence to those living there! :)