Who: Quentin Coldwater & Eliot Waugh When: After this Where: Q's room, the cottage What: Eliot's sad and Quentin comforts him Warnings: Emotions??
A hand reached out, scooping up the phone that lay discarded on the bed by his side, and with one subtle movement, he'd pressed the button and the screen lit up. His head turned, where it had been pressed against the pillow that had been designated as Kylo's months before, and examined the screen. 2 AM. A heavy sigh escaped from him and he shifted, pressing his face back against the pillow as he stifled a groan.
A moment later he was pushing up with his hands, climbing off of the bed and moving to scoop up clothing. He pulled a shirt over top of his head, which he knew instantly was not his own, but he didn't stop to change. Then he was moving for the dresser to pull open a drawer. In a flash, he yanked out a pair of his rarely used pajama bottoms, and was stepping into them as he made his way for his own bedroom door.
Once he was out in the hallway, he crossed to Quentin's door, and gave a small knock. He didn't usually knock for Quentin. He usually just pushed himself in. But it was late and Eliot's heart wasn't where it usually was.
Quentin had been sleeping...sort of. He was easily woken, but still groggy. It was early or late. It was hard to say for sure. He pushed himself into a seated position, turning to look at the door. He hadn’t fully been aware of things that were happening around him since everything with Alice. Mostly, he was aware that his head hurt, but he wasn’t going to worry himself about it too much. Instead, he was trying to focus on whether or not he’d really just heard a knock at the door.
After a moment, he got up and made his way to the door, opening it slightly. “Eliot?” He felt momentarily confused, but he stepped back to let him in. Eliot wouldn’t come to his room at who knew what time it was for no reason. “Everything okay?”
Eliot had suspected Quentin would be asleep. There wasn't much of a reason not to be asleep at present, was there? Eliot idly thought back to a time where he wouldn't have dared been asleep this early on the cusp of a Holiday. There would have been parties every night of the week leading up to Thanksgiving; since Eliot would have refused to go back to Indiana and would have wanted to ignore the event entirely.
He hadn't wanted to throw a party this year.
He didn't want to do anything that evening. He'd been fairly checked out at the play rehearsal, once he'd even made it, and then he'd gone straight to his bedroom upon return home. Penny's arrival in the Cottage came on the worst possible day, with everything that had occurred earlier in the morning; and Penny's arrival just brought more news. Clearing his throat, he stepped in, but didn't answer Quentin right away.
Instead, he flung himself down on the opposite side of Quentin's bed, where it was still cool to the touch, since no one had been there. He shifted, so he was able to lay on his back. "Yes," he replied to Quentin, voice sounding far off, and his gaze on the ceiling.
Quentin frowned slightly at the way that Eliot just walked into the room. He was never one for monosyllabic responses. He’d said only one word after throwing himself onto the bed. He quietly climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. Instead of pointing out that he didn’t seem fine, Quentin said, “Might as well get under the covers if you’re going to stay.”
Whatever was going on, he was sure that Eliot would tell him eventually. Or at least he’d accept that Eliot would do whatever he needed. “It’s warmer under here and much better for sleeping. Unless you were just planning to lie there awake the rest of the night.” Quentin honestly couldn’t imagine that that was Eliot’s plan, but he wasn’t really sure what being in his bed was going to help exactly.
After a few moments of silence, Quentin asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Eliot tilted his head and glanced at Quentin when Quentin spoke. He was able to conjure the smallest of smiles as Quentin rambled on, appreciating that Q was able to at least pick up on the desire Eliot had. Eliot didn't want to be alone and though he hadn't even stated this, it was clear he was at least hoping to stay the night. "The goal is sleep," Eliot did offer, as he shifted so he could slip underneath the covers.
He didn't disturb the silence after he spoke. He was alright with it and his eyes had returned to the ceiling as his mind wandered. He was emotionally exhausted by this point after being ricocheted between every emotion possible. And none of it had really been discussed since the encounter earlier that morning. He didn't tell the others that Kylo had gone back to his other apartment. He didn't talk about his own disappointment about his subpar effort in the play. He didn't talk about Penny's inability to get to Fillory; and how that meant Eliot was out of ideas for the situation regarding Fen and their daughter.
Eliot was coming up short on a lot of things lately.
"The bed felt too big," was what he chose to say as he kept his eyes upon the ceiling, thumb and forefinger idly rubbing at the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. It was too big for him. Eliot didn't wear clothes that weren't tailored to perfection and the shoulders gave it away. It was meant for a slightly broader man.
Quentin didn’t question that. He knew what that felt like. He didn’t feel like explaining that or anything, but he could understand. Only he’d been pretty alone in his bed for a long time, so it wasn’t really something new to him. But that did leave the question about why Eliot’s bed was feeling too big. Had something happened that he didn’t know about? Maybe Kylo had gone elsewhere for the night. It was hard to say for sure, but he got the feeling Eliot wasn’t up to talking about it, so he wouldn’t press it.
“Are you usually the big spoon or the little spoon?” At this point, Quentin would settle for being either spoon if Alice decided she wanted to spoon. Only she was dressing up for someone else. He did his best to keep from showing the way that thought made him feel. It was probably better to just go with whatever Eliot needed and not focus on the rest of it after all. Eliot needed him for...well, perhaps not the first time, but he hadn’t asked for much in a while. Quentin couldn’t really deny him when he needed him...even if he was feeling particularly sad.
He gave a quiet huff of amusement and appreciation with the question. But a moment later he was thinking about it in earnest. There wasn't a designation most nights. It really depended on who needed what from the other. But his mind was already flashing to nights where Kylo held him and he had felt completely warm and safe. It caused a lump to rise back up in his throat and he let out a slow, shaky exhale.
"Doesn't matter," he opted to say, before a beat passed and he rectified his answer, "Little." It wasn't always true but it was what he wanted at the moment. He shifted and rolled onto his side, facing away from Quentin, and he looked out at the wall.
"Penny can't get to Fillory," he whispered.
Little. Q nodded at that before draping his arm over Eliot’s side and making himself comfortable. It was nice. Maybe in another life things might have been different and this might not have been just friendly, but he hadn’t had a life where he didn’t love Alice. At least he couldn’t imagine a life where he didn’t love Alice. He just wasn’t very good at not fucking things up. He wanted her to be happy, but he’d always hoped that he’d be the one that made her happy. It wasn’t supposed to be someone else. Part of him wished that the version of Alice that he’d seen would show up, but she didn’t feel like his even if they had shared a moment. It was him missing Alice and her missing him, but they were different versions of the same person and he wanted his version more than he did any other. It just clearly wasn't in the cards for him.
Quentin frowned slightly at Eliot’s words, scooting himself a little closer. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s just...not part of this realm. Maybe we’re just not looking for it correctly. Maybe we’ll find our way there. This place isn’t really known for its predictability.”
Eliot shut his eyes for just a moment when Quentin's arm wrapped around him and he swallowed once more. There was a point in time where Eliot had wanted there to be more between him and Quentin. Only, as time passed and their circumstances changed, Eliot was finding that he may have wanted that at one point but no longer. And regardless of what he'd wanted, he needed Quentin as his friend far more. He just listened to Quentin try to talk about the situation with Fillory but he didn't respond. He'd only mentioned it because it was on his mind. Eliot didn't really want to talk.
It likely wasn't part of this realm. Eliot had known this before he'd even asked Penny to try. He was at a point where he was having a fool's hope. And with this set back, on top of his deflated mood, he was in a position of feeling rather hopeless. Perhaps come morning he'd have another idea or a returned sense of optimism. But tonight was not that night and all he could think of was a stranger that relied upon him, who he couldn't save; and a child he'd never wanted prior to her conception. She wasn't even a thought from Eliot's point of view. The closest thought he'd had in relation to her, back home, was 'please, God, let me shoot blanks.' He didn't want to be a Father.
But, eventually, he was going to be and responsibility was weighing on him. He needed to save them but he was a universe away. He felt powerless.
And wasn't as if he could outright wish to go home. No, Eliot wouldn't do that. His only feasible solution was to wish for them here or to have knowledge that they ended up being rescued somehow. Perhaps if he knew they were safe, if somehow someone arrived and told him that they were back in Fillory and being treated as the royalty they were, it would stop weighing down on him. But until then, it was constantly on his mind, and he wanted them here if it meant they were saved.
Of course, there was also Kylo. Kylo was the reason he wouldn't outright wish to go home. Kylo had become home for Eliot. And this very morning, Kylo had told him the words Eliot had hoped but wouldn't speak outright; just before deciding to leave the Cottage. Eliot knew that Kylo had made the right decision but Eliot wished it hadn't needed to be done.
He hadn't spoken at all after Quentin's words and instead allowed for silence. His eyes shut tighter and he reached to grip the comforter tight, pulling it up to his chest. And without so much as another word, he breathed out, and the very foreign sound of a sob escaped from him. He didn't say a word, just shifted so he could place his head against the pillow, and moved a hand to keep Quentin's arm around him; wanting the closeness of any human touch.
It would have been far worse to be alone in this moment.
The silence stretched on for a while before the sound of Eliot sobs started. Quentin frowned a little, but didn’t move away. He didn’t really have words for what was happening. Instead, he just closed his eyes and laid there, hoping it was enough.