His mom. God, this was so complicated. "Will you t-t-tell her?"
"Yeah. We're very close, and I could never keep this from her. Besides, I think she deserves closure, just like I did. It's a far cry from the closure either one of us had hoped for, but that's life. You know better than anyone else that it can kick you in the teeth just when you think things are going well."
Wow, Augustus did not envy him that difficult conversation. Imagine telling your mother that the man who fathered her child had been a criminal and that when she thought he had walked out on her, he had actually been in prison. Closure had never been that bitter.
It was long past time he had to open the junkyard up again, but no way was he leaving his position on the couch. Quentin needed him, and everybody else could fuck right off. Besides, after what had happened to him and Quentin, chances were he would do some real damage to the first person who looked at him the wrong way now. Better to stay inside and take care of Quentin.
“I’ll m-make us some t-tea.” He lifted him off his lap and rose to his feet. After a few minutes, he returned with two steaming hot mugs and a plate of cookies, which he handed to Quentin. Augustus set the mugs down on the coffee table and settled right back on the couch, Quentin between his legs. Quentin rested against his chest, his cheek against Augustus’s right pectoral, nibbling on a cookie.
"I'll need to contact my professor as well," Quentin said.
His research project. Augustus hadn't even thought of that, but that had become impossible now. "What w-w-will you t-tell him?"
Quentin took his hand and laced their fingers together, then pressed a kiss on Augustus's hand. "This is the end of my research project here. I'll have to talk to him if I can set it up somewhere else. I guess I could, since it's not tailored toward Northern Lake. That was just the town I picked. Theoretically, I could do it anywhere else as long as it is a small town."
"Anywhere else b-but here," Augustus whispered.
Quentin squeezed his hand. "Yeah. Anywhere else but here."
"You're l-l-leaving, then."
This time, Quentin didn't answer as quickly, and when he did, his voice was filled with pain. "I don't want to leave you, but I have to go. I can't stay here, not after what happened."
Augustus’s chest had never felt this tight, and his heart had never beaten this painfully. "I underst-st-stand. There's no f-f-future for you here."
Quentin pushed himself out of Augustus's arms, got up, and kneeled between his legs. "There's no future for you here either, baby."
Augustus hadn't expected it to hurt that much, to have someone else pointed it out to him. It was the truth, and it wasn't like he didn't agree with it, so why did it stab him to hear Quentin say that?
"I can't l-leave. Not bef-f-fore I've paid off m-my debt."
Quentin's eyes flashed. "They don't deserve your money. They don't deserve to be paid back. They're horrible people who are nothing but mean to you, and they are not worthy of you being this honorable to them. God, I would almost say they deserved to be cheated out of their money, since they are such sorry excuses for human beings. Maybe it was karma's way of settling a score."
Augustus almost smiled. If nothing else, he would never forget the rush of having someone like Quentin in his corner. It had been a precious gift, Quentin's loyalty. His attention. His love. Oh, they hadn't said the words, but Augustus knew. This wasn't casual for Quentin either.
"You don't m-mean that," he said mildly. "No one ever d-d-deserves to be a v-victim."
Quentin's eyes softened, but only a little. "Maybe, but I'm not fully convinced they didn't call this upon themselves. But whatever. Point is, you don't owe them anything anymore. Baby, you've done everything you could. When will it be enough?"
Augustus inhaled deeply. It was tempting, so tempting. And it wasn't like he couldn't see the reasonability of Quentin's assessment. Hell, he'd had the same thought many times over the years. But he'd always come back to the same thing, and this time was no different. It wouldn't be enough until he’d paid what his father had taken from them. If he left this godforsaken town… No, when he left this godforsaken town, it would be with his head held high, his honor intact, and every last cent of his debt paid off.
"I c-can't. I can't l-leave until I'm d-d-done. Two m-more years. T-t-two more years and I will h-have paid off e-e-everyone."
Quentin leaned forward, bringing their foreheads together, and closed his eyes. "I can't wait here with you for two years. I can't. I would die on the inside. I don't know how you can stand it, but it would eat me bit by bit."
"I kn-know. I wouldn't w-w-want you to s-suffer for me."
He meant every word. He did understand that it was more than Quentin could take, facing two more years of this hostility. But even if he had offered to, Augustus would've turned him down. He couldn't let them do it. He couldn't let this town wound Quentin as deeply as they had wounded him. Quentin deserved better. His future wasn't here.
"You have to g-go b-back to C-c-california. That's where you b-b-belong."
It hurt to say the words. Every word he pushed over his lips stabbed his heart, but he still said them. He had to.
"What about us? I don't want to leave you."
Desperation laced Quentin’s voice, the same desperation that made it so hard for Augustus to breathe. He’d always known that he and Quentin were temporary. They couldn’t have a future together, not when he was stuck here with no way out. But he’d counted on having more time. They were supposed to have three more months together.
Words had always been a struggle for him, especially those spoken in public. But never had he had to fight harder to get words out as when he pulled Quentin back into his arms and whispered, “You h-have to g-go. Your f-f-future is n-not here.”
26
"Mom, I have to tell you something."
That was how Quentin's phone call with his mom had started fifteen minutes ago, and half of that, she had spent crying. He’d waited a day with calling her. His emotions had been too conflicted, too messed up. But she’d deserved the truth, and he’d set up the call.
Right before he'd called her, he'd had a brief moment of doubt. Had she known and not told him? Was that why she had never tried to find his father? But then he rejected it. She would never keep something so important from him. Her reaction proved he'd been right. It had blindsided her. Still, she'd thanked him for telling her.
"I'm so sorry for you," she said, her voice still hoarse from crying.
Quentin let out a sigh. "I still haven't decided how I feel about it. You knew him. I never did. I don't know if it's possible to be disappointed in someone you've never met."
"Maybe not disappointed, but you have every right to be angry with him."
"It wasn't like he deliberately fucked up my research project," Quentin said with a hint of a laugh.
"No, but he fucked up much more than that. If he hadn't been this stupid, he could've seen you grow up. You would've had a dad."