who: Quentin Coldwater & Kurt Wagner when: After this where: The Cottage, specifically Q’s room What: Quentin is full of feels and life is moderately terrible warnings: Nothing serious outside of Quentin's emotions status: COMPLETE.
Quentin had sent a text to Kurt: Eliot and I are back and now I’m hiding in my room if you want to come over still. Front door is unlocked. No one will notice.
After that was sent, he’d curled up on his side on his bed and stared at the wall. He was trying to process everything, but he wasn’t having any real luck doing it. Mostly he was just existing and waiting for Kurt to show up. He knew he had a complicated conversation to have and that day had been an entirely complicated situation as it was. It needed to be done, though. He needed Kurt to fully comprehend what was happening and what made this whole situation difficult.
It would explain some things, probably a lot of things. It also meant talking about Rupert again, but he could manage it. Eventually he was probably going to have to tell Eliot again as well, but he wasn’t emotionally ready for that at the moment, so he hadn’t. Everything felt overwhelming in this moment and he felt himself curl in on himself even more.
Once Kurt got the text, he BAMFed to the Cottage, concerned by the tone in which he read Quentin’s messages before, when the Other Eliot arrived. Kurt wasn’t familiar with all the details of Q’s past, but as somebody whom he dated, and more importantly a friend, Kurt wanted to know more, and possibly help.
His first instinct was to teleport directly into Q’s room, but maybe that was too intrusive? Or else climb up the side of the house to knock at Q’s window to be let in that way? Ah, but the text specifically told him about the unlocked door, so that was the route Kurt settled on. True to his word, nobody was around, so Kurt was able to go upstairs to knock on the door to Q’s room before opening it to a crack to peek inside.
“Hey,” he muttered, noting Q’s body language while laying in bed. He let himself in, and after closing the door behind him, he went over to sit upon the foot of the mattress. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.
Quentin wouldn’t have really minded any method of entering. He’d just offered the door because he wasn’t entirely sure how Kurt’s powers worked regarding inside. So he gave an easy option for access. He heard the knock on the door, not bothering to move in that instance. He wanted to, but he also didn’t want to. He was still in his clothes from earlier because the very idea of changing clothes sounded like a lot of work. He’d only bothered to take his shoes off before getting into his bed.
The sound of the door opening didn’t go unnoticed and neither did Kurt’s voice or the feeling of the bed sinking down just a little at the end.
Did he want to talk about it? Several responses went through Quentin’s mind, both words and actions. Only a few were appropriate responses, so he carefully shifted all of those to the back of his mind and forced himself to sit up. Even then, he hugged his knees to his chest and let his hair fall around his face. “Not really,” he replied quietly. “But I have to.”
There was a long moment of pause, where he didn’t say anything and barely moved. “Eliot,” he started, his voice catching for a moment. “I...it’s complicated.” He allowed himself a moment to figure out how to start. “It started as nothing. Sort of nothing,” he amended. “I was aware he was interested, but I wasn’t at the time. Then I ruined my relationship with Alice by sleeping with him and Margo. It was after going over the time limit for the emotion bottles. No more than three hours. And we were all really drunk.” It was shortening things down a bit, leaving out certain things. “Let’s say I don’t really do the...dating part so much as the...falling into bed with people and coming out with relationships. I’m kind of a dating mess.” And he was rambling. “Uh. But that doesn’t really...I have other things that make it complicated. More than a drunken threesome.” He was just working himself up to that part considering it was something he’d felt for a while despite everything.
The moment Quentin began with It started as nothing, Kurt knew that the had to be a sexual twist to the problem, but Kurt didn’t expect a threesome. Not that he disapproved - Kurt had his share of trysts and one night stands - he was just a little surprised that Quentin was the kind of person that did that, too. He thought back on their date and it made him wonder - Q hadn’t given him the impression that he slept around, but then maybe this event he described changed his attitude and behavior?
“Emotion bottles?” Kurt quirked his head, curiously. “Is that like a love potion? Or… more along the lines of magical ecstacy?” Maybe it wasn’t the right question to ask at the time, but Kurt was curious. Nevertheless, he tried to understand, “So, this second Eliot comes before or after this happened? Do you… want a chance with him? Or…?” Yes, Kurt had dated Quentin, and was the guy he’d ever taken out, but if Q’s heart was somewhere else, he had no problem with being just friends. Kurt only needed a little more clarification to understand the crux of the problem.
There was so much more than what he’d said, he’d just needed a moment to get past everything. He knew everything he had to say, everything that went past a threesome that he didn’t think meant anything at the time and didn’t really change anything except for everything with Alice. Things got more complicated after that.
“No. You bottle your emotions and they you drink them when you’re done. Of course, it means you experience all of the emotions from the three hours all at once, but we went over the three hours, which amplified it. I’ve lived my entire life with depression and anxiety and all of it at once was...well...a lot.” Did he want a chance with Eliot. Quentin laughed, but it sounded hollow. “I’m emotionally compromised, but I am trying not to think about that. Not now.” He paused. “He’s from after that but from before the more important part.”
This was the difficult part. “I...when we were searching for the keys to get back magic. Fast forwarded after becoming kings and queens and Alice dying and coming back to life and more complicated relationship things.” He didn’t like all of that, but he’d been able to move past his feelings for Alice and he’d been getting over Eliot despite the occasional pangs of pain that came with watching him be happy with someone else. Two someone elses. He had his family and Quentin was...Quentin. But he liked Kurt, so he wanted to explain himself a little. “We went through the clock into the past of Fillory and we had to solve a mosaic so that we could get the key. We were there a whole year, just us. No one else knew where we were, no one else could have known. So the inevitable happened.” His voice was quiet.
“And then Arielle came into the mix. She’d been someone we knew in passing, selling peaches and plums with the man she was dating or...whatever they were doing. Then he left and we ended up together. All three of us. Arielle and I had a son. Rupert.” His eyes squeezed shut then and he took a moment to breathe again. “She died when he was little. Eliot and I raised him together after that. We lived such a long time, I had grandchildren. Eliot died. I found a gold tile when I dug in the ground to bury him.” A pause and a depreciative laugh. “The meaning of all life.” He slowly let himself uncoil, legs crossed. “I sent a letter to Margo and she stopped us from going through the clock, so it was a life that happened and didn’t.”
“Ah. An emotion suppression, not an enhancer.” The corner of Kurt’s mouth quirked into a sad smile. “I can see the appeal. There’s been times when I’ve been there, myself.” He hadn’t been aware of Quentin’s depression and anxiety problems, and wondered whether or not he was currently doing something to help with that now. Maybe he’d ask about that later. For the time being, Kurt sympathetically listened to Quentin’s tale, not at all phased by the more unusual aspects. Even without all the strange things that had happened to him since his arrival to Tumbleweed, the X-Men had experienced their fair share of weirdness; being stuck in other dimensions, magic, and the whole dying and coming back to life was all par for the course. Even the part about being in a three-way relationship wasn’t odd, now that Quentin had told him before that he was into that sort of thing. For being a Catholic, Kurt was extremely accepting of people’s unconventional lifestyles, and didn’t judge.
“This was when Eliot told bedtime stories about adapted versions of Moulin Rouge,” he said, getting a fuller picture of Quentin’s life. “And now that this other Eliot is here, it brings up all sorts of awkward feelings? After living a lifetime with him in this other place, growing old together, raising a family.”
“Battle magic,” he said as if that really explained anything. Battle magic took a lot of practice and could be done without the bottles, but it was harder. It took more time, more patience, more effort to learn. Which is why he’d been practicing just about every day. He was a lot better because of it. “We needed them so we could do it without as much practice.”
There was a nod at the question about bedtime stories. “I love Eliot. I’m pretty sure I always will. He doesn’t know about that. I’ll probably have to tell him about that eventually because it’s not going to stay a secret forever.” He paused in his thoughts, reminding himself that he was talking to Kurt. “But I like you, too. It’s complicated. I’m a fucking mess of a human being most of the time, which is why I’ll never be surprised when that mess bleeds into my love life.” His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he spoke again. Napoleon would not approve of this line of thinking. Neither would Eliot. “I probably didn’t - I am trying not to talk about myself like that. It’s just...today.” He frowned a little then, moving a little closer to Kurt. He felt the need to be close to someone even if it felt like a ridiculous thing and things already felt complicated. “It’s hard to explain Eliot and I without explaining everything.”
Kurt’s smile was soft and comforting when Quentin quickly tried to reassure him of his affection, but it was clear where Q’s true love resided. “Life is usually complicated, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. And when it comes the the heart, that’s where you must go - it’s impossible to do otherwise.” He then chuckled a little. “If it means anything, I don’t think you’re a mess. You’re struggling through a lot of things, and sometimes it’s more difficult than others. I’ve known a lot of people who, like yourself, have their crosses to bear. What’s important to remember is that you have friends who care about you, and will help see you through.”
It wasn’t difficult to decipher what Quentin needed when he budged closer. From what he’d gathered, Q was a sensual person, not necessarily in the sexual way, but that he found comfort in being touched. This didn’t bother Kurt, since he was a hugger, himself. Without a second thought, Kurt opened his arms to welcome Quentin even closer.
“Thank you for sharing with me,” Kurt told him.
“That all depends on where his heart is,” Quentin replied quietly. “And we were never really a ‘one person’ sort of thing and Margo has a claim too. I guess some people are more exclusive.” He knew it could work if he wanted it to. He’d done it before. “It’s been a long summer,” he agreed. There was a lot going on and it made things seem murkier and less clear. It made him feel a little more lost than before and he still hadn’t reached out to Betsy. “It’s only going to get longer.”
He was thankful for the hug, for everything. “I’m sorry if it’s made things weird or anything. I just had to explain why things are that way. I just need to sort through it and I should be okay.” He hoped. It was just a matter of figuring out how to sort. “It’s probably not even worth overthinking.” Even if he knew he would.
“You’ll never know until you ask,” Kurt softly suggested. “Whatever you decide to do, if you need somebody to talk to, I’m here to listen. Heh. I don’t mind. Confession is good for the soul,” he quoted the Psalms, hearkening back to his days as a Catholic priest. “Sometimes all that’s needed is to get your worries off your chest, to lighten your burden and clear your mind.
“And don’t worry whether or not you made things weird. It’s alright.” Kurt said this with another reassuring smile, but internally, unconsciously, he made the decision not go any further in a romantic relationship with Quentin - he already had a lot of things on his plate, Kurt didn’t want to complicate it any further by including himself. It seemed more than anything that what Quentin needed was a friend, and that was something Kurt could gladly do.
Quentin considered his words for a moment, not sure what to make of religion or the words that came from it. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything to say in response. Maybe there was, maybe there wasn’t. He didn’t feel particularly comforted, but he didn’t want to say anything this time since Kurt had seemed sad about it the last time he’d mentioned something similar.
He let out a slow breath, letting himself relax just a little, more comforted by the hug than the words. “Thanks for being here and listening to me.” He tucked his hair behind his ear. “I guess I needed it. I’m sure it’s just a small part in the emotional sea I exist in, but I’m grateful for it anyway.”
Kurt understood that there was a lot of turmoil going on in Quentin’s mind, and a lot of things he needed to work out, but that he would be alright. Talking with somebody had a way of relieving the pressure, and hopefully it would give some clarification of what needed to be done. “Anytime,” Kurt said, placing his hand upon Quentin’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be about to get through this, I know you can.” Then, a bit of whimsy struck. “You know what I hear also helps? Ice cream.” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to go get some?”
The strangeness of it all made him pause. Ice cream. But maybe it would help. “There might be something downstairs,” he said quietly. “Or we could go to Fortescue’s. Since I’ve only been there…” He’d been about to say once, but that was a lie. He’d been there far more times than once. “A few times.” Still a lie, but… “I guess I at least don’t need to worry about getting dressed.”