networkinthenight | [Audio] @ SuprNerd

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[The first few seconds of the recording is just Quentin breathing, fast and shaky at first and just before he speaks, the breathing evens out. The whole speech will be said fast and jerky, like the words are just spilling out without thought.]

What the hell? I can't be the only one who's thinking this, but just what the fucking hell? What the hell just happened? This place, oh shit, this place just-- did any of you see things? Hear things? Fucking feel things? And why? Just, why? I thought we were here to help, to find a way to solve this-- this whole puzzle and suddenly there's something here that made me think I was losing--? That's just-- it was just to fuck with all of us?

What the hell? That's what I want to know - just, what the hell? Is this hell? Is that why?

So, if you're listening to this, lady in the lighthouse? Fuck you! Seriously. Fuck. You.

Also, someone took my hoodie and I need that, so please bring it back. Thanks.

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[It's kind of amazing, in a scary kind of way. The way Eliot pulls away, not with his body as much as all of the emotions draining away from his face- his mouth relaxes, the angry, frustrated lines between his eyes and around his lips smooth out and between one blink and the next, Eliot looks almost completely different.

Quentin frowns.

Eliot looks almost placid. Almost calm, with a casual arch of his eyebrow at Quentin and a roll of his shoulders, like they're talking about nothing more important than dinner or who's turn it is to do the dishes. (Quentin's, it's always Quentin's because Eliot cooks and it's only fair, but the argument still comes up).

Looking like he did back at Brakebills, too aloof and too above it all to care about what mere mortals thought and Quentin hasn't seen that look on Eliot's face in years. Maybe last time, was Eliot mentioning in a throw-away line that Margo had sold his newborn daughter to the fairies.

Or maybe it's the hazy image of Eliot laying on the mosaic, all smiles and warmth as Quentin kissed Arielle and there's a part of him that's always suspected that maybe Eliot hadn't been as okay with that as he said he was. That accepting Quentin's marriage had been just another way for Eliot

To give

Quentin

What Quentin thought

He needed.

Like now.]

You are. You're worth staying for, Eliot. I-- maybe I don't tell you that enough, or maybe I just suck at doing it? But you're worth staying for.

[ quentin says it, but eliot doesn't know that he feels it. at all. anymore. still, he smiles, the one that always comes a little too easily, and lowers his arms, eases back in his seat. maybe it's better this way. quentin knows what he needs better than eliot ever could. if that means quentin has to go out, do something else with someone new, then eliot can only oblige. you sacrifice for the people you love. maybe he hasn't been doing his part. or maybe this is what he deserves for having doubted in the first place.

but he'll take whatever left quentin is willing to give, for however long he's still willing to give it. but mike was right, apparition or not. he's not enough. ]

It's okay, Q. I get it. [ the corner of his lip quirks more, but it doesn't reach his eyes. ] I'll just. [ smile falling away, ] Hold the fort. Make sure things don't get too crazy while you're gone.

[There's a prolonged silence with just Quentin trying to breathe like a normal person and he's staring at Eliot with a very confused look on his face. He's missing something.

They had argued about this for days. Quentin had made his points, first calmly and trying to rational about something as irrational as storming the trees because someone hurt his boyfriend. Partner? Friend? And they fought when Quentin spilled all of his frustrations and fear all over the town on the tablet. They were fighting now, again, about the sanity of rushing off while they weren't feeling their best. Or Eliot wasn't. Maybe Quentin wasn't.

Some days, it was hard to tell, which feelings were them and which were just Quentin's. All wrapped around each others lives and emotions and bodies until he didn't know where one ended and the other began.

Taking a deep breath, exhaling loudly through his nose, Quentin reaches out and takes Eliot's hand in his, kissing each of his knuckles in turn.

Before he died, Quentin remembers, he's had this same kind of conversation with Alice. About why her choosing to destroy the keys to magic had hurt so badly - it wasn't so much that she did it, but that she hadn't trusted him enough to be honest about her fears. He was always going to love Alice, even after everything she did and everything he'd done. But that betrayal of trust--

When he finally says something, it's very low, almost whispering it into Eliot's hand at his mouth.]

I make stupid choices sometimes. And I run. Because it's easier if-- because it's easier for me, if I'm the one suffering. I love you, Eliot, and-- I think I should stay this time. No, that's-- I want to stay. I want us to find the way together. When... when we can.

[ he doesn't expect that. at all, and it shows, the placid mask falling away and replaced with the raw confusing, the hurt that had been in his eyes before returning as they widen, brows raising anxiously. quentin takes his hand so carefully, presses his lips with such assurance. his heart thuds, terrified that this moment is wholly imagined or something that will become meaningless again all too soon.

but quentin speaks and. oh, he could cry. he can't think of a time that anyone's ever said anything of the sort before, so willingly setting aside themselves entirely just for eliot, and it feels so unreal. it's impossible. but quentin just. did?

tears drip from his eyes before he has time to react, and his free hand flies up to cover his mouth. he doesn't know what to say. ]

[Eliot doesn't say anything, he just stares back with tears running down his face and Quentin blinks. Maybe it was too much? Too much honesty so soon after everything that had happened? Maybe it was too much?

Quentin and his issues regarding how much to want, how much to take from another person had always been tricky. He always wanted more, always. More affection, more closeness, more attention and it had driven Julia away more times than he wanted to think about and it had been something Alice hated about him. This constant need.

He swallows hard.]

I-- but we don't have to? If you don't want to? It can still just be me, but-- I can wait?

[ eliot shakes his head because that isn't what he meant by it. he doesn't know what to say though because no one's really put him in front like that before and it's. overwhelming. maybe a bit clarifying. relieving? there's too much to say about it and he can't really find the words, so he covered his mouth with his free hand to keep from spitting out whatever managed to slip free.

turning his left hand over, he grasps quentin's hand and tugs him in, pulling him directly into a tight hug and pressing his face hard into quentin's shoulder, preferring that over quentin of all people seeing him cry. q's like bottom of the list for people allowed to see him this weak. margo would probably laugh. ]

You're fine. [ muffled, hot air into clothing. ] Don't go.

[Quentin hugs him back, hard, Arms still shaking and he's still breathing funny. Eliot's curls in his face and there's still that urge, that want to be the hero. To find a way to justify his own continued existence and it's probably always going to be there.]

I won't. I'm not going anywhere.

[And he closes his eyes, just holding Eliot tightly against him.]

I still have to tell Peter, though. He's going to be waiting for me at the edge of the forest.

[ his chest tightens painfully in an instant. ]

O- oh, [ is all he manages. ]

Come with me? It's not far and--

[His arms tighten] He might want some of the stuff?

The. The stuff?

[ his mind blanked pretty hard from quentin suddenly saying he needs to go still. he gradually recovers, but he isn't sure if quentin means to use this as some way to make him go along too. he stiffens a little, uncertain. ]

Um. [ he swallows, feeling the ground slipping from underneath him again. ] If. If that's. What you need.

[ eliot resigns himself. he doesn't know what to do anymore, and his resolve breaks. ]

Uh? The torch? The sheets?

[Quentin places a small kiss on top of Eliot's head.] Yeah? No? It's not that I need to, but he's probably waiting and maybe he wants the bow? Or, uh, something? I can't really let him wait out there without telling him that I'm staying.

[It's rude, and Peter had been trying to help. Mentioning that he wasn't going to risk his life, or Peter's, seems like the least he could do.]

[ oh. it should be more relieving but his head just hurts too much from all this. the build up of stress and fear has really been so difficult to bear. he wants to just will it all away, even for quentin's sake, but. quentin is too close. too important. he's everything worth fighting to keep.

still, he's glad. ]

Yeah. Um. Okay. [ he relaxes a bit pressing harder into q's too-square but well-supporting body. ] Okay. Yeah. We can-- I can do that. I- if. If that.

Yeah.

Yeah? Okay. That's-- yeah, that's good.

[It isn't, though. And there's the part that wants to save Eliot from everything that's screaming at him, and he drowns it out by running his fingers through the curls at the nape of Eliot's neck, smothers it under the scent of his skin and his hair and the way it tickles his lips when he kisses it.]

It's going to be okay, Eliot.

God-- [ he laughs dryly. ] When has it ever been, Q? Beyond when Fillory was ours.

And even then, I. I left you all alone.

I miss my first-world millennial problems. I just want to. Bitch about how the barista skimped on my espresso and. Wonder if I'm ever going to own a house.

You want to own a house?

[Because it's easier to focus on that, than on anything else. Quentin kisses Eliot's head again.]

It's been okay. In between things? It wasn't all bad. For some of the time. And you didn't-- you died. It sucked. But. I-- that's life? It ends and it's sad, but.

But...?

[ he draws back with a sigh, reluctant, but wanting to face quentin again, kisses his forehead and holding his face as he presses their brows together. ]

And--not really? I mean. I like the idea of a house? Like a manor or. Estate. Somewhere I can invite my friends. Somewhere large and. Decadent. Where everyone can just have fun and relax. Do whatever they need to do and know they belong.

But after Fillory, it's just. Honestly, I don't know if I belong on Earth anymore. It's. Familiar, sure. And convenient and. Comfortable. But it. Wanted to destroy me since the day I was born. I. Maybe I just don't belong anywhere though. And. And Fillory didn't want me anymore.

That's why I'm here, and Margo isn't.

[ like martin. cast out once his worth had been spent. but unlike martin, eliot knows better than to overstay his welcome. ]

Or--

[Quentin says quietly, hands coming up to mirror Eliot's hold, resting against his neck and the line of his jaw.]

Or, this-- listen, maybe? Maybe you didn't get kicked out of Fillory, but someone just made a portal and it pulled you here. You don't remember dying? So-- so maybe you didn't? Maybe you were kidnapped.

[It's a slim maybe, almost non-existent and without any proof at all to back it up, but it's still a sliver of hope and Quentin is going to hang on to that, and not touch on that 'but...?'.]

[ it's so sudden, eliot's brows only raise, and after he has a moment to actually breathe does he laugh softly. ]

Q. I've been saying that all along.

[ he laughs again as he kisses q, slow and loving. he can feel the protest against quentin's lips, it's all the more reason why he lingers, even if it's only chaste.

they've found their footing again, and that's all that really matters. ]

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