freak, hero, you pick | e. munson

nine

season 4; volume 1
episode 3

"the monster and the superhero"

~

quinn pierce.

"we should get going, it's late." steve pat dustin's shoulder, and everyone else started standing and gathering themselves. the room was heavy, especially after hearing what eddie said about chris.

i quickly brought myself back to reality, wiped away a dry tear and stood up, but eddie shot himself up with me, "quinn?"

"yeah?"

there was an awkward amount of distance between us. the air shifted. something didn't feel right. i was standing right in front of him, but i felt so far.

he fiddled with his rings and stared at the floor. "i..." his doe eyes met mine. "i'm sorry."

i gave him a sad smile and closed the space between us with a step, "you have nothing to be sorry for. don't do that to yourself, okay?" i held his face, my vision quickly blurring.

he wanted to say something else. i could see it, the way his features softened after being set in stone for so long, the way his brown eyes looked at mine.

but he stayed silent and nodded his head. i kissed his soft lips and felt his forehead lean against mine, "i'll be back in the morning."

he shut his eyes and nodded his head again.

i wanted to say that i'd stay with him. that i'd spend as many nights with him as he needed. that i was so happy he was alive.

but in a way, i felt like i was wishing death upon chris. and i couldn't live with that.

so, i kissed his forehead and left him in the shed.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

i couldn't sleep.

my body was exhausted, but my mind was wide awake.

i felt so many things at once, it was hard to comprehend. i was angry, tired, terrified, panicked, but mostly and exceptionally not okay.

as i laid in my bed, splayed across the sheets, i started thinking. about eddie, how he must feel. about wayne. chris' parents. jason, for chist's sake. and then me.

i wasn't surprised that i hadn't cried. i wasn't sure if i was at any point. ever since i was a kid, dad had drilled phrases into my head, but most of all, that crying was for pussies and cowards.

so i didn't cry when i found out dad was hitting mom. i didn't cry whenever i got into fights at school. i didn't cry when mom and dad told me they were getting a divorce. and i didn't cry when we left mom in new york.

so why the hell would i cry now?

i stared at the punching bag hanging from the roof on the far side of my room. i installed it myself a few months ago when i got into boxing. thank god i did, because if i hadn't, jason would've beat my ass that day.