CASSIUS

I'm disappointed in myself for not seeing it sooner.

I know exactly what it's like to feel like a caged animal. The second Quinn started backing away from me, I should have noticed the signs. But it wasn't until she got this strange look in her eyes that I recognized what was happening. I know that look well. She's in fight or flight mode.

Her fingertips crawl across the wall as she feels around for something. I immediately take a few steps back until I'm in the kitchen, removing myself from the same room as her all together. The row of counters separates us, acting as a barrier.

And, if need be, I'll have easy access to the front door. I know what people are capable of when they feel cornered. That's one of the first things Micky taught me when I started working with him as a young teenager.

Desperation leads to recklessness, paren'.

I've been trained how to force people into feeling so helpless in the ring that they lose control of themselves, making senseless mistakes. Then, you pounce on that shit and take your win. Is that what I was just doing to Quinn without even realizing it? Forcing her into a state of desperation?

"Why would I care about you? Are you seriously asking me that?" I utter the words with mellowed confidence, transitioning into work mode.

Always keep the situation calm and controlled.

"Are you going deaf, Cassius? Did you get punched in the ear a few times or something? Because I'm pretty sure that's what I asked you."

"More than a few times." I respond, swallowing over the thick irritation lining my throat.

Calm and controlled is proving difficult because I'm fucking livid, and I don't fully comprehend why. I've had this indescribable rage simmering in my chest ever since Mabel mentioned Quinn getting roughed up by some asshole. And it only intensified when the pill thing got thrown on top of it all.

Is that why she took those pills from Joey? Is he the one who gave them to her the first time, too?

I'm trying so hard to combat the disturbance in my body that I'm on the verge of hyperventilating as I lean against the kitchen counter. I'm that pissed off right now.

At Quinn? Maybe a little.

At the combination of people who distorted her sense of self, who made her think this way? Abso-fuckin-lutely. They ruined her self-worth.

How am I supposed to fix it for her when I'm not much better off? Maybe our friendship or whatever the fuck was never supposed to work out. Maybe our demons don't align, don't mesh well together. Maybe they mesh too well. Who fucking knows? Not me, that's for damn sure.

But I've never believed in fate. You create the outcome you want. You don't wait around, hoping it will materialize without any effort. You put in the work, and you fight for it until you physically can't do it anymore. We were made to withstand breakage, so you fucking break yourself, over and over until you achieve the desired result.

I've been a fighter since I was thirteen years old and I'm not quite ready to give up yet.

"I care about you because you say things that don't make sense. And maybe that doesn't make sense, but it's one of the things I like about you. I care because you're a good person, Quinn. You make me laugh more than I ever have. You make me wish I would have known you sooner but, at the same time, I feel like I've always known you."

The dejected look in her eyes begins to lift as she storms over to the couch and throws herself down on it. She switches the TV on and stares at it like I'm not even talking to her. But I know she's not focused on the damn thing. The fact that the channel she's 'watching' is just a row of colorful, fuzzy lines strobing across the screen gives her away.

I've got her full attention, minus the eye-contact.

"You're fun and kind of wild and don't care what anyone thinks of you. You're a walking encyclopedia of useless shit and you confuse me ninety-seven percent of the time you're talking...and I like it. I like that you fuck my head up."

While still pretending to be engrossed with the screen, she speaks.

"Can you just forgive me for last weekend and for today and then we can pretend like none of this ever happened?"

What? She wants to pretend none of this ever happened? I honestly didn't think people actually did that. This can't be a real thing. Deep breaths, man. Don't let it get to you.

"So, am I forgiven?"

My hand scrubs down my face. Deep breaths failed.

"Quinn, what the hell is wrong with you? Wait, no, don't answer that. I've got a pretty good idea already."

I turn to face the door, ready to put some distance between us. I'm not giving up; I just need to perform a factory reset on my brain so I can think clearly. This conversation is getting us nowhere. But her faded whisper halts me in my tracks, reviving the anger.

"I never meant for this to happen. I didn't ask you to care about me."

I spin around, throwing my hands in the air.

"You don't have to fucking ask me, Quinn! That's not how it works!" Even though I'm not yelling this time, the intensity in my own voice worries me. My body is working overtime, attempting to breathe through the impatience and irritation.

"That's how it always works." She states impassively.

"Well not anymore! You don't have to ask me for help because I'll just do it. You don't have to keep asking me for forgiveness because you've already fucking got it. Always, Quinn. And you never had to ask me to care about you! I already do. So will you just. Fucking. Let me?"

My chest fucking hurts. I haven't lost my temper like this in a long time and, while it feels therapeutic in a way, no part of me wanted to direct it at Quinn. Especially after hearing what her sorry excuse of a mother had to say.

"Fine." Quinn grumbles with resentment.

I sigh, dropping my head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Fine what?"

"Care about me. Do what you want. I'm not your boss. Whatever." She waves that stupid dismissive hand through the air like usual.

I snort and slowly shake my head before exhaling. Her posture isn't as guarded as it was a few minutes ago, so I'm assuming it's safe to approach.

When I sit next to her, I slouch back into the cushions, my legs spread wide in front of me. Folding my arms across my chest like a scolded child, I start sulking, stewing on the most ridiculous argument I've ever had.

"Fucking good. Because you didn't really have a choice." I mutter back.

"Fine."

"Good."

Her attitude is apparent in the way she shrugs, turning the volume up on the fuzzy no signal screen that's been flickering on the TV. Guess this conversation is over. Not that the end of it was much of a conversation anyway.

"Shhh, this is the good part." She swats around, trying to silence me even though I'm not even saying anything at the moment.

And there's nothing fucking playing on the TV!!

Two hours go by where we sit in silence, not touching or really doing much of anything. Quinn has been nursing her drink the entire time, mumbling to herself every now and then. For some reason, I've been enthralled by the TV screen, my eyes never leaving it.

Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment, because one of the questions that's been hounding me during our self-inflicted timeout pours out of my mouth.

"Who's the guy your mum was talking about?"

Her spine goes rod-straight, and she refuses to acknowledge me.

"Just give me a name." I continue to coax.

"Nope."

Of course not. Why would it be that easy?

"Then tell me what he did."

"No."

Okay, cool. I don't want to know anyway.

"Hmmm...tell me why you broke up?"

"Nope."

Fuck.

I bury myself further into the couch, trying to keep myself in check.

"Come to the club with me tonight."

She shakes her head 'no' this time instead of responding.

"Alright, well I'm gonna go."

I really need to get some time in with Micky before my shift starts tonight. There's way too much aggression building inside of me, and I know I'll end up snapping at the first person who rubs me the wrong way at work.

She twists around with record-speed, facing me. Her eyes are puffy, and her cheeks are slightly flushed. Has she been crying this whole time?

"Quinn..." Her name leaves my lips in a quick exhale.

Leaning forward, I drag her over to me, smothering her in my arms. She all but crawls into my lap, her movements erratic and uncoordinated. Once positioned, she tries to roam my body with her hands.

She pushes me back and her fingertips creep under my shirt, meeting the bare flesh on my stomach. My heart slams against my chest and, when her lips graze my neck, a pleased groan gets trapped in my throat.

She's trying to distract me. I think. Fuck, I really have no idea, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.

I grab her face with enough pressure to keep her still and force her to look in my eyes. Mine bounce between hers as I observe them start to water again.

"Name." I demand softly.

"I – Cash – did you know –"

"Name." I repeat with a little more authority, gently twitching the hand that grips her jaw to keep her focused on me.

"H-Hunter."

My thumb skims against the bottom of her eye before the tear gets a chance to fall.

"What did Hunter do, Quinn?" This question is voiced even more passively than the first. When I see her hesitation, I lean forward to plant a delicate kiss on her quivering lips. "It's okay. You can tell me."

I already have a good idea, but I want to hear it from her point of view. That way, if she tries to downplay it or minimize the situation, I can at least try to tackle that issue. She said last night that sometimes people deserve to get hit and if she thinks she's one of them, I need to kill that shit version of reasoning off immediately.

"Oh, uh – a lot...a lot of stuff." She gulps, her eyes darting to the side.

"Okay. We'll circle back to that one some other time." I whisper, finding her eyes again. I don't want her to feel as if she's trapped again.

My hand moves from her jaw, caressing her cheek instead. She nods into it, expressing her agreement.

"Why did you break up?"

I'm internally crossing my fingers, hoping she says she left him the first time he ever put his hands on her.

"I – I came home, and he was...he..."

I don't get to the tear on time this go around. It slides down her face, pooling up around my fingertip. I decide not to wipe it off, just in case the small movement breaks her.

"How about we come back to that one too, huh?"

She lunges forward and buries her face into my shoulder. I feel like everything inside of me is sinking right now. What happened to this girl? My palm rests on her upper back while my other arm locks around her waist.

It wasn't much, but it's more than I expected to get out of her. Small steps.

I need to leave soon but I don't feel right abandoning her. I'm sure everything that happened in the past, while still painful, is a distant memory for her now. But this is fresh for me. Which means when I think about her alone in this apartment after our argument, my brain starts short-circuiting.

"Come with me tonight." I speak with my lips pressing into her hair.

When she doesn't move, I kiss the tip of her ear before whispering into it.

"I'll let you beat up anyone you want. Promise I won't kick you out."

I feel her smile stretch across my neck, which has me mimicking the sentiment on her cartilage.

"Is that a yes?" I ask, using my thigh to bounce her on my lap.

"Fine. You're such a pest!" She leans back and playfully slaps at my chest.

"Your face was leaking. You should get that looked at." I grin, rubbing at the wet trails left behind by her earlier tears with my knuckles.

"There must be a crack somewhere. I'll have to patch it up at some point." She rolls her eyes.

"I can help."

That weak smile combined with her tear-streaked face, blood-shot eyes, messy hair, and red cheeks is something I will never get out of my head. It's one of the most stunning things I've ever seen that I never want to see again.