Usually Okay

Chapter one

Usually, Emanuel would not be out of his small New York City apartment by 5:30. Unlike usually, Emanuel poked the buzzer on his best friends apartment complex. The bell rang distorted and muddled throughout the entryway, and seeped into the street. Static blared out of the voice box and Quinn tried to shout over it. Then, the line went silent. His hands didn't feel connected to him anymore it was so cold.

"I'm coming, hold on." He laughed. Quinn unlocked the door with a quiet pop. He pushed it open, climbed up the stairs, nearing her door but stopping halfway up. It wasn't too long ago Quinn had moved in, she had been almost nine months pregnant at the time and Emanuel had carried up all her things while she talked relentlessly about the baby. She had insisted, even before Saylor was born, he would look like Emanuel. And of course she was right; he had his dark brown eyes, black hair and tan, smooth skin. He hoped he would inherit Quinn's personality, though. Saylor needed someone like her.

Emanuel shook his head and continued up the stairs. He knocked on the first door to the right, and it flung open. Quinn stood with their son in her arms. Her hair was clipped back with a barrette in the front and the rest falling down her back, and she was wearing a My Chemical Romance shirt, even though neither of them listened to them anymore, bleached and stained over the years. Her jaw was clenched and she held their baby tightly. Emanuel smiled.

"Hey." She moved out of the doorway, and Emanuel followed her into the messy apartment. Photos, mostly of Saylor, lined the narrow walls. A few were from when they had been dating before Saylor was born, but most were after; when they'd started documenting Saylor's life.

"I packed his things, I'm sure you have most of it but I-"

He pulled his son from Quinn's arms, smiling.

"Hey, Say." Emanuel rocked the baby, kissing the top of his head.

"Em, are you listening?" Quinn nagged, looking up at her ex.

"Yeah, yeah... I've got everything I'll need for a week."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Promise me you'll call if things aren't okay?" She caught his eyes, scanning her eyes up from packing Saylor's things into his little stroller. Emanuel groaned.

"Quinn, we'll be fine. You're going to be gone a week. If- if I need any help I'll give you a call," Emanuel said, placing their son in the stroller. "Anyways, you should get going."

Quinn pursed her lips. She was taking a break from Saylor and going up to her parents' house. He missed their quaint house in the Palisades, where he had spent most of his time when he was in highschool. He followed Quinn downstairs, where a cab was waiting for her.

"Tell your parents I say hi." Emanuel gave her a quick hug. Saylor was still asleep in his stroller, wearing a big puffy coat.

"I will." Quinn kissed his cheek, gave Saylor a kiss, and got in the cab. "I'll see you in a week." She smiled, stepping into the back of the car and closing the door. Emanuel stood there, his view of Quinn obscured by the tinted windows. The car started, huffing out poignant exhaust and took off, rounding the corner.

Emanuel only lived a block away, but his apartment was a lot smaller than Quinn's. It was all he could afford without help from her parents. He wasn't even there very often; between work, school and the couple clubs he was in.

It's a shoebox apartment- with just about eleven pieces of furniture inside. He moved in not that long ago, with just a crib in the living room and a tiny bedroom down a hallway; with barely enough room for a bedside table to put pictures on. But, he made it work; on his bedside table, there were a couple of pictures: one of Saylor, just after he was born in the hospital nursery, another was of he and Quinn, taken by Quinn's father when the two started going out (it was a short lived relationship), and the last was placed closest to Emanuel's bed. It was a photo, taken when Emanuel was about ten, of he and his mother. His father had been cut out and hastily taped back in years later. The bedroom connected to the bathroom. The only mirror in his apartment was in there, which worked quite well since Emanuel didn't spend much time in there. He only ever caught glimpses of his choppy black hair and stick thin body was when he woke up to brush his teeth in the morning, and showered at night. He'd rather not confront the jutting bones beneath his skin and his sickly glow more than twice a day.