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Flynn hadn't seen his own home since April. He'd been on tour, and ever since he'd returned from tour and his world had been shattered, he'd been running. Quinn was gone, and Flynn wanted to be gone too. But he wasn't. He was still here. If only Quinn had died, the answer would be easy. Flynn knew people would miss him if he left, but if Quinn was dead, Flynn wanted to be too. But Quinn was caught somewhere in between. And it wasn't until Flynn was lying in an alleyway after having had the crap beaten out of him by Hamish the Manwall, that he realised that he would see Quinn again. Quinn was in the middle, but he wasn't stuck there forever. He would die some day. And Flynn would die too. And on that day, they would once again be together. Reunited for the third and final time.
Until then, Flynn would wait. He was going to spend his life waiting. What he did from now until then didn't matter. All he knew, is that he hoped it would come soon.
And then Flynn dragged himself home. He hadn't eaten since Wednesday. He hadn't showered or slept much. His face was covered in dried blood and one of his eyes was swollen shut. His body was covered in bruises, some even on the inside that couldn't be seen. And he still didn't look half as bad as Quinn had looked when they'd found him. That didn't keep Thomas from shrieking like a woman when he opened the door to Flynn looking like a zombie.
"Flynn!" Thomas immediately reached out for him, and he helped the younger man into the house. "Dear god, what happened to you?"
"Hamish Donalbaine." Flynn replied, his voice utterly lifeless. He didn't care that he had been beaten. He hardly felt it anymore. "I need to see Quinn."
"Of course...I'll take you. Flynn, they won't let you in the hospital like this. Unless...they're admitting you..." Thomas raised one eyebrow.
"I'm fine." Flynn shook his head, sounding anything but fine.
"Please...let me clean you up. Abby can see to your...ouchies there. Spectre!! Honey, Flynn's home! We've all been so worried..."
"Yeah. Sorry." Flynn said, staring at his shoes.
Until then, Flynn would wait. He was going to spend his life waiting. What he did from now until then didn't matter. All he knew, is that he hoped it would come soon.
And then Flynn dragged himself home. He hadn't eaten since Wednesday. He hadn't showered or slept much. His face was covered in dried blood and one of his eyes was swollen shut. His body was covered in bruises, some even on the inside that couldn't be seen. And he still didn't look half as bad as Quinn had looked when they'd found him. That didn't keep Thomas from shrieking like a woman when he opened the door to Flynn looking like a zombie.
"Flynn!" Thomas immediately reached out for him, and he helped the younger man into the house. "Dear god, what happened to you?"
"Hamish Donalbaine." Flynn replied, his voice utterly lifeless. He didn't care that he had been beaten. He hardly felt it anymore. "I need to see Quinn."
"Of course...I'll take you. Flynn, they won't let you in the hospital like this. Unless...they're admitting you..." Thomas raised one eyebrow.
"I'm fine." Flynn shook his head, sounding anything but fine.
"Please...let me clean you up. Abby can see to your...ouchies there. Spectre!! Honey, Flynn's home! We've all been so worried..."
"Yeah. Sorry." Flynn said, staring at his shoes.
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