Felixentric

Scene 23: I Need Ten More Sweaters that Look Exactly the Same

After having slept all afternoon, Felix didn't sleep that night. How could he, even if his sleep schedule wasn't out of whack? Though Felix often saw Hale's ghost following him during the day, it had been a few months since he'd had a bad dream featuring him or the lab.

In the morning, Quinn came out of his room early. The smell of alcohol was on his breath, but he was not seemingly hungover. Felix didn't know much about a lot of things, but he assumed that if someone drank enough nights in a week, their hungover state became less and less prominent.

He still didn't accept it, though.

When Felix finally got off the couch, he walked toward the kitchenette. Quinn was sitting on the bar stool nearest the wall, but was taking up both place settings with an ignored bowl of cereal and sprawled pages.

Felix almost shrieked. Relatively light sleepers don't like it when they meet someone who can sneak up on them while they're out. But he only sat up and took a few deep breaths. If he freaked out again, he thought he'd just melt into the floor. He was in a scribbling mood. As an artist, Felix knew exactly what that meant. Pages were ripping and his pen was going at millions of miles an hour.

His shirt was off, but he was wearing a long pair of grey sweats. Before saying anything, Felix stared at his back. Quinn held his shoulders tightly on his body and last night's injury points were dark red circles. I thought you fell forward? Marks were dotted on his shoulder blades and a huge spot, maybe the size of an open palm or foot, looked like internal moss growing over his lumbar region. Some of it was hidden under his sweats, too, so it could have been much worse than the eye gave way to.

Quinn looked like a human punching bag.

But Felix still didn't speak up. It wasn't right when he knew how sacred the scribbling mood was. Too many ideas. Too much inspiration. He had to be as quiet as possible if he didn't want to bring a flying demon out of Quinn's body.

It took almost an hour before the pen slowed down and Quinn got up. When he turned around, he clenched his fists and stared at Felix. Felix thought he would come over and punch him. He didn't know why, but the fear was so real that he scooted away quickly.

But then Quinn's eyes lightened. He stood up a little straighter and softened his cheeks. "I need to get out of here."

Pardon?

"Don't you have like two shirts? We could go to the used clothing store down the way and get you more."

Uh...

A smile came up, letting Felix relax. "Have you ever been to a used clothing store?"

Felix shook his head.

"They're amazing." He headed to the bedroom, probably to clean himself up and change. "Grab shirt #2 from the dryer and hop in the shower."

A small smile grew over Felix's face when Quinn turned away. This Quinn was quiet and nice. His eyes had looked tired, but there was a deep kindness in them - like Felix was talking to an old, homeless man on the street. In the same way, Felix felt a guilty about the way he looked.

Quinn's fire had gone out momentarily. Today he was only a crop of glowing coals.

In the shower, Felix played with the heat settings. It was funny to feel warmth like in the shower. It was something you couldn't get from a big pile of blankets or the hot sun. It was just a warmth like a hug from over energetic molecules. He stood under it until Quinn knocked on the door and made jokes about what he might be taking so long with.

He almost laughed. It seemed as though Janette and Quinn were almost the same person. They both got frustrated and passionate and made dirty jokes. He felt like living with Quinn was like living with someone he'd known for a long time.