darker_london | Brother (Quinn, Eamon, Frankie)

The thought that Quinn might have been drugged when he had committed such a vile betrayal gave Quinn something like hope. The feeling even overpowered the terror he felt at knowing he might have been used like that. He just wanted to be back with Flynn again. He wanted to be in Flynn's arms and he knew that he wouldn't have believed he was capable of doing anything that would possibly harm that or take it away. If this gave him an excuse...anything to make Flynn stay with him...he would take it. It was desperate and sad, but Quinn didn't care.

With their parents due back in the evening, Quinn was helping Eamon tidy up the house. Quinn was going to have a lot of explaining to do when they got back. He needed something to concentrate on until then for fear that otherwise he might throw up from nerves.

When the doorbell rang, Quinn thought nothing of it. He simply went to the door and pulled it open, despite Flynn's warning that Frankie knew something was going on between Flynn and himself. Frankie wouldn't come here. Except he had. Quinn shrieked and he tried to close the door again, but Frankie shoved his boot in the way and then there was a gun in Quinn's face.

It was not the first time Quinn had faced a gun, but he reckoned you never got used to it. Quinn froze, eyes wide, and he put his hands in the air in a show of surrender, even though Frankie hadn't asked him to. "Frankie." Quinn breathed, his nervous voice catching in his throat. Like an unwelcome wave at the beach, Quinn was overcome by memories of what Amaris had done to him on the day she had attacked him and bashed his brains out all over the wall.

"Hello, love." Frankie smiled toothily, making him look like a feral wolf. "Heard you and me wee brother had a lover's spat."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Fuck off."

"You're not goin' to get me by pullin' your eye out again, boy." Frankie growled, and he shoved the front door behind him closed with his foot, gun never leaving Quinn. "Here's what I think. I think me wee brother lied. And you're hidin' here to throw me off the scent."

"How did you find me?" Quinn asked, terrified that Frankie had gone after his parents, which was insane because how would he find them.

"Called your parents. They hung up on me though, bastards. Then I called me parents. Back when you got sent away, your parents told mine were you was goin'. In case they wanted to look for Malachy here. Of course they had no desire to. Why should they, he broke their hearts. My parents still had the address, and I figured you might be hidin' here you right weasel."

His parents hadn't given him up. Hell, they might have been trying to ring him, though he had his mobile off. Well done, Quinn. "What do you want?" Quinn hissed.

"Only to tell you since Mal sent you away, he's been doin' some blonde guy what looks like a chick." It was a trick. And Quinn fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Tristan?" Quinn shook his head. Even if Flynn was angry at him, he wouldn't sleep with Tristan. Even if Quinn couldn't get mad about it because he had done worse. He knew Flynn too well to believe it. Flynn knew Tristan's feelings for him and even if he didn't feel that way back...which Quinn knew he did, Flynn would never take advantage of those feelings to make himself feel better or to get revenge. Hell, if Flynn was going to try things with Tristan again, it would be months and months after things ended with Quinn. Flynn cared too much about love. It had been far too scarce in his life. He wouldn't monopolise it for anything. With a pang, Quinn realised that maybe that was the difference between them. Quinn had had love. He had learned that he could monopolise it. "That's a goddamn lie."

"Tisn't." Frankie replied back, cocky and sure. "Don't matter none anyway. I found yourself."

Before Quinn could react, Eamon came around the corner. "Q? Who are you talkin-" When Eamon spotted the gun trained on his little brother, he let out an angry yell and he charged forward.

"Eamon, no!" Quinn screamed, and his scream ended in an agonised wail as Frankie swung the gun around and fired two shots into Eamon's chest. Eamon fell to the ground, silenced, blood spilling onto the floor, and Quinn sobbed loudly before Frankie grabbed him from behind and started dragging him toward the door. "Eamon!! NO!!" Quinn yelled, struggling to get to his brother's crumpled form only a few feet away, crying and weak in Frankie's arms. It was no good. He couldn't escape. Frankie had him now. And there was nothing Quinn could do about it.