Every time Adrina turned her head on the tube ride home she could smell Eamon. He was all over her and by the time she'd reached home the overwhelming sadness had lifted from her and now she was filled with a bittersweetness about it all. She had been given one last night with Eamon. She had been able to end it all on their own shared terms. They were over, but it would be okay. Not tomorrow and not next month but, eventually, Adrina would be okay and missing him would become easier.

She showered slowly, letting the hot water drown her and not minding that it was washing Eamon's handprints away. It felt good and ritual and needed. She felt good.

She toweled herself dry and made her way to Quinn and Flynn's bedroom, knocking on their door and poking her head in. Birds were singing by now and sunlight was just beginning to properly enter the world.

"Quinny?" she asked. "You awake?"
Adrina had completely lost the will to do anything beyond lying in her bed. She'd called in sick to work, claiming flu, and one day had turned into five. She knew it was no good to stay here like this, and she knew that it was no good to skip her therapist appointment, and she knew it was no good to shower or to eat or to skip everything else life-related but... Eamon.

Her limbs were heavy and her skin felt clammy and the world had a certain unreal sense to it. Maybe she really did have flu after all. Maybe she'd made herself sick just through sadness.

She was so pathetic. Not just because of how she was acting now, but because of the way she'd managed to lose Eamon so easily. She'd let him slip away, let him walk away and end it. What else could she have done? No, she knew what she should have done: she should have fought for him. She shouldn't have backed down from his stupid words about 'doing what was best for her'. Dammit, didn't she get to decide what was best for her??

Mouth dry, Adrina reached down beside her bed for her water bottle but after sliding her fingers around in the air for a few seconds and not finding it she gave up and pressed her face into the bed. She hadn't cried - not since she'd left Eamon's place. Not since he'd ended it. She felt like she'd forgotten how to cry.
"Do you mind that I'm a musician?"

The question had cut through the silence in their bedroom, though Quinn was used to Flynn asking deep questions out of seemingly nowhere. He had been reading for his thesis but he set aside the book by Kant easily enough and leaned forward in his chair. Flynn was stretched out on their bed, the covers draped lazily across his knees as he played with his tablet. He hadn't even looked up when he asked, though once Quinn moved, Flynn smiled over at him. "Something on your mind, Bub?" Quinn asked, rather than answering the question directly. Flynn didn't often use a lot of words, and it was better to understand where this was coming from before stumbling into the conversation blindly.

Synergy )
Quinn groaned at the text he had just received. "Eamon sounds really upset. He wants us to come over."

"Now?!" Flynn squeaked. He was currently flat on his back, since he had been in the middle of being spectacularly fucked by Quinn.

Coitus Interruptus )
Quinn groaned at the text he had just received. "Eamon sounds really upset. He wants us to come over."

"Now?!" Flynn squeaked. He was currently flat on his back, since he had been in the middle of being spectacularly fucked by Quinn.

Coitus Interruptus )
Being the professional musician of the two, it wasn't often that Flynn came upon his husband playing music. Indeed, when he came home and heard someone on the piano in their music room, Flynn assumed it was Adrina playing a fairly simple song. While Quinn was good at playing the piano, Adrina was amazing at it.

They say of the acropolis where the Parthenon is )
Being the professional musician of the two, it wasn't often that Flynn came upon his husband playing music. Indeed, when he came home and heard someone on the piano in their music room, Flynn assumed it was Adrina playing a fairly simple song. While Quinn was good at playing the piano, Adrina was amazing at it.

They say of the acropolis where the Parthenon is )
Deirdre had a habit of inserting herself into situations she wasn't always wanted, and she hardly ever realised this. It was like showing up in the foreground of a photo that was supposed to be of something else, unaware of anything behind her. All she knew was that Giles had their twins that day and that made Deirdre feel annoyed. Surely her friends should do all the could to make her not feel annoyed. Right?

OH HAI GUYS HAI! )
Deirdre had a habit of inserting herself into situations she wasn't always wanted, and she hardly ever realised this. It was like showing up in the foreground of a photo that was supposed to be of something else, unaware of anything behind her. All she knew was that Giles had their twins that day and that made Deirdre feel annoyed. Surely her friends should do all the could to make her not feel annoyed. Right?

OH HAI GUYS HAI! )
"We've never done it in the elevator."

Cuteness )
"We've never done it in the elevator."

Cuteness )
It was Quinn's stomach that drove him out of bed, despite wishing he could stay curled up beside the warm body of his husband forever. His hunger wouldn't be ignored.

I'll write stories on your skin )
It was Quinn's stomach that drove him out of bed, despite wishing he could stay curled up beside the warm body of his husband forever. His hunger wouldn't be ignored.

I'll write stories on your skin )
It was their last day of the Spectre UK tour. They had spent the last several weeks stopping in cities all over Europe to play their music for the fans. Spectre's popularity was growing and in some cities, they had done two nights, which they had never done before. Their venues were bigger and more elaborate. And none of it mattered to Flynn. He would have played his bass out to a tiny venue if it were void of people. All he cared about was the music they'd written together as a band. He returned to his simple stage presence of hiding halfway behind the monitors and playing without connecting with the audience at all. It was very easy to forget he was there.

And Flynn wanted them to.

Life goes on )
It was their last day of the Spectre UK tour. They had spent the last several weeks stopping in cities all over Europe to play their music for the fans. Spectre's popularity was growing and in some cities, they had done two nights, which they had never done before. Their venues were bigger and more elaborate. And none of it mattered to Flynn. He would have played his bass out to a tiny venue if it were void of people. All he cared about was the music they'd written together as a band. He returned to his simple stage presence of hiding halfway behind the monitors and playing without connecting with the audience at all. It was very easy to forget he was there.

And Flynn wanted them to.

Life goes on )
There was anarchy in London, but all Flynn knew was the anarchy going on inside his heart. A few days ago, his husband had come to find him. His husband. The man Flynn loved more than anything; the man he had truly believed had left him. Flynn had killed his own brother to save his husband's life and he had believed he had lost said husband for committing such a terrible crime. His mother had said as much. He though she had betrayed him before, he had believed her, and ruined everything.

Flynn hadn't wanted to return home. Instead he opted to stay at Peter's hospital in a room that was somehow larger and warmer than the room he had had in Liverpool. He sat on his bed and he stared out the window and when Quinn entered the room, he didn't look up. He could see his husband's reflection in the glass.

"Mal?" Quinn said softly. "Mal, I-" Quinn trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself. He wore the same expression he had had when Flynn had woken up to find Quinn holding his hand and had jumped away from him. Like his heart had broken into a million little pieces which were all stabbing him. "How are you?"

Flynn didn't know how to answer that so he shrugged and continued to stare out the window.

"Mal-" Quinn burst into tears as he stood there in the doorway of Flynn's room. "Mal, don't leave me."

"I left a long time ago," Flynn said, and then he clamped his mouth shut and he didn't say any more. He didn't know when Quinn gave up, but when he eventually turned his head, Quinn was gone.
There was anarchy in London, but all Flynn knew was the anarchy going on inside his heart. A few days ago, his husband had come to find him. His husband. The man Flynn loved more than anything; the man he had truly believed had left him. Flynn had killed his own brother to save his husband's life and he had believed he had lost said husband for committing such a terrible crime. His mother had said as much. He though she had betrayed him before, he had believed her, and ruined everything.

Flynn hadn't wanted to return home. Instead he opted to stay at Peter's hospital in a room that was somehow larger and warmer than the room he had had in Liverpool. He sat on his bed and he stared out the window and when Quinn entered the room, he didn't look up. He could see his husband's reflection in the glass.

"Mal?" Quinn said softly. "Mal, I-" Quinn trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself. He wore the same expression he had had when Flynn had woken up to find Quinn holding his hand and had jumped away from him. Like his heart had broken into a million little pieces which were all stabbing him. "How are you?"

Flynn didn't know how to answer that so he shrugged and continued to stare out the window.

"Mal-" Quinn burst into tears as he stood there in the doorway of Flynn's room. "Mal, don't leave me."

"I left a long time ago," Flynn said, and then he clamped his mouth shut and he didn't say any more. He didn't know when Quinn gave up, but when he eventually turned his head, Quinn was gone.

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Darker London

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