Theories.

A Confession {twenty-two}

{A/N: look at (Frasier) Miles. How nice. Much seductive.}

March

The fact that I'm in love with Frasier is no secret. The world has some way of using that against me. If it's not Lani or Loren, it's Frasier.

He passed out this morning.

Our RA had to call an ambulance; I was too frantic.

They let me into the hospital room. He insisted again they don't call his father. The staff was just as confused as I was, but they followed through with his request.

Now he's sipping apple juice through a straw, looking small and helpless. I wonder if it's really the ulcer. Maybe the doctors need to take a further look.

"I have something to say," Frasier grunts, sitting up in the bed and sweeping his hair out of his face. "I've kind of been holding something in... its stressing me out."

I sit up, scooting my chair over to his bed. "By all means..." I prompt. If it is stress, I want him to get rid of it.

"I'm just... I know you don't want to share some things with me, but there are things I haven't told you either. And if I'm honest with you... I think that's what disconnects us."

"Baby we don't even fight anymore. We don't. Just tell me—please if it's going to help you stop stressing out just let me know," I say lowly, but my voice carries throughout the otherwise vacant room.

Frasier bites on his lip, shaking his head. "I asked you, months ago, if you'd... killed someone."

I tense up immediately and back away from him, ready to storm out if I have to. This is not going to help us at all.

"No—don't be an ass. This isn't about you," he groans. "I couldn't care less what you did or didn't do back in New York, Quinn. All I know is, since that day, I've been... ripping myself apart about the things I did. I thought maybe since I went to college and-and got a new life I would forget about it. But all I've done is give myself a goddamn ulcer."

"Frasier, you're scaring me."

"I killed someone, Quinn," he outbursts. Tears instantly fill his eyes and he looks away from me, shaking his head. "I did, and I never ever got in trouble for it."

My body is frozen in place. Of course I want an explanation. Of course I want him to tell me everything so I can let him know I love him anyway. But this is serious.

"We were freshmen in high school... we were such assholes. Me and my stupid rich asshole friends... god, I hate myself for this."

"Frasier, no matter what—"

"No, Quinn, we were horrible. Bullies. For no other reason than to jerk off at the end of the day to all the kids we hurt. A kid moved to school eighth grade year. Adam. He was skinny like he didn't eat. By freshman year, we all knew his dad beat the living shit out of him. All the time. He would miss weeks of school at a time and when he got back, he would have the worst limp. Broke his arm twice in a year. God, I don't know why we were such dicks back then."

Frasier swipes a tear from his cheek. "We all knew but we didn't even care. We picked on him and picked on him; at one point, we tricked him. We said we wanted to be his friends, said he was cool. Invited him to lunch, stay over for a weekend. For a week, we pretended to like him. I just went along with it. Sometimes I was the one planning when to sabotage him.

"One night, we vandalized the school. Really bad. We burned a tree in the park, we broke windows, used spray paint. It was so stupid. Knew it would cost the school thousands of dollars to get the tree out of there and fix the window. And we blamed it all on him. Everything we did, we blamed it on him. It all worked out perfectly. Nobody even suspected us.

"I went to bed that night thinking, god, Adam's going to have so much shit to deal with. I barely thought of him as human." Frasier pulls on his hair in frustration and anguish. "He didn't come to school the next day. We figured his dad probably gave him hell. That night, we flicked on the local news to find out he was hung in a tree. Not he hung himself. He was hung up in a fucking tree. Everyone thought it was his dad, everyone. But nobody wanted to say anything. They called it a suicide and moved on."

I grab his hand, but he snatches it away. "Frasier, you can't—"

"We did that. We pinned it on him and his dad fucking killed him for it. You can't tell me that he wouldn't have been murdered if we didn't cause all that damage to the school. It was too much for him to handle so he offed himself—it's bullshit. I threw stones through a window and someone got killed for it, Quinten. I—" Frasier breaks down, sobbing heavily with both hands on his face. "I have hated myself for that ever since it happened. I've never told anyone in the whole fuckin' world. Adam could've been someone great and we killed him. And when we sat there and blamed him for what we did, he just looked at us, defeated. He didn't even fight back. It was like he knew his life was over. We sucked the last bit of life out of him. He never did anything to us."

"Frasier, listen to me," I plead. "He could have hung himself."

"Even if that's true, it was us who pushed him there. We pushed him off to his death, Quinn. I could've saved his life. I could've really become his friend, reported his father. I could've done something great, but because I chose to be evil, he's dead. His father killed him for what we did. I wish I could fucking go back, Quinn. I-I know you always say my life is so fucking easy and maybe that's true but I hold onto things too. I feel like I don't deserve a damn thing for what I did to Adam."

And I don't say anything else, because I wouldn't believe a word of it myself. 

*

*

*

A/N: so that's new. the next chapter will be happier, i promise! make sure to vote and comment!

QOTC: what do you think Quinn's going to do about this new information?