Chapter Text
It’s just around dinnertime when Quinn falls asleep.
Nando doesn’t realize, at first, that he’s fallen asleep again. He holds him for a long while in his lap, then lays him down. Eventually, they’re laying side-by-side in his bed, and on Quinn’s request, he rolls to press against him, for the sensory input. Nando wraps his comforter around him, and whispers to him— mostly just affirmations, that he’s here, that he’s got him, that he loves him. He stays close, and Quinn holds onto him. He doesn’t let go.
He feels so fucking awful for Quinn that he can’t do more than he’s doing, at this moment. But when Quinn falls asleep, Nando thinks, finally — because he’ll get a break from his despair, and rest awhile.
He kisses his forehead, just lightly, and then very carefully reaches to flick his hearing aids off and take them out of his ears. They agreed, somewhere around their relationship’s six-month mark, that Quinn was comfortable with that, with Nando taking his ears out if he accidentally fell asleep; he was hesitant to do it otherwise. He rolls over to return them to their case, then takes a long look at the boy resting in his bed.
God . That’s his baby.
Quinn’s freckled face is tear-streaked, red and blotchy beyond its usual, ruddy flush. His hair is messier than he’d keep it on a normal Monday, and the hood of Nando’s KMH sweatshirt is over his head. He has his sweatshirt paws pulled up to his face, and he looks more peaceful in sleep than he has all afternoon.
Nando wants to cry. But how stupid is that— that he wants to cry, over something that didn’t happen to him. He doesn’t like to use the word ‘hate,’ but in this moment, watching Quinn sleep in his bed, having witnessed the past hour of his hurt and trauma, Nando is pretty sure he hates Quinn’s grandparents. He’s never met them, but he will never be able to understand how someone— anyone — can reject their own family like that, for selfish, ideological reasons.
He pulls his comforter up to Quinn’s chest. He can’t stop hearing Quinn’s teary voice in his head. I have nowhere to go, Sebastián . In the whole two years of their relationship, he’s never seen Quinn distraught like that. He’s barely ever seen him cry— a few tears here and there, for sure, and a couple of nightmares and difficult moments. He’s cried onstage before, too. But this? This was a whole new thing. This was hurt like he’s never seen before on his boyfriend. Quinn is the strongest person he knows, and he just— he’s ruined right now, and completely understandably so.
Nando’s heart is breaking for him.
The world outside his room feels far away right now— so he jolts a little when he hears a car horn, somewhere relatively distant, beyond his window. It’s pitch black outside, and has to be dinnertime. He doesn’t feel even a little hungry, and doubts Quinn is hungry, either. When he wakes up, Nando decides, he’ll try to get him to eat something. But who knows when he’ll wake up? He could just sleep through the night. Maybe that would be good for him— to sleep that long. Nando knows he has class at eight tomorrow morning. And a meeting with the drama club board, and there’s morning practice tomorrow, and— God , Quinn isn’t going to feel up to any of that.
Nando has no idea what he can do. He feels two seconds away from crying over something that didn’t even happen to him firsthand. He can’t believe Quinn cried like that— can’t believe this is happening to him.
Nando looks at his phone. He has KMH group chat notifications, Snapchats from Raf and his cousin Gloria, and— oh, crap— a couple of texts from Katie from Soc 350.
iMessage
Katie SOC350
6:44 PM
Katie: Hey ! Are we still on for tonight?
Katie: Where do you want to meet?
Katie: Hello?
He sighs, and sends her a quick text back. He feels bad he didn’t warn her, but at the moment, he also gives literally zero fucks about meeting up to study for a test that isn’t even tomorrow. Katie is nice and everything, but he can barely think about class.
7:01 PM
Me: i’m so sorry!! something came up and i can’t make it
Me: can we try for another night?
He’s about to put his phone away, after that— but right before he closes out his iMessage app, he spots his text thread with Mama. He had his daily call with her this morning, at ten Kiersey time and seven Arizona time, while she was on her way to work. He talked about the trip home from New York, and she told him a funny story about Tio. It was a completely normal call— because at ten this morning, this was a completely normal day.
It’s four o’clock now. Mama is home from work. Gabi is in dance class, and Rosa is probably doing her homework.
Nando looks to Quinn, who is, thank God, still sleeping, and for the moment, free from his hurt. He won’t say a single word about this to anyone here until Quinn feels ready to say what happened, whenever that is, however long it takes to be ready. But right now— God, right now? Nando needs to talk to his mama.
He looks over his shoulder, toward the bathroom. He knows Ben is in class until 7:30, and Ben always gets food at Bluegrass after his Monday night class— so his room is going to be vacant for the next little while. He keeps the door open to his room when he crosses the bathroom, and dials for home, flicking the light on in Ben’s room.
It rings only twice. When Mama picks up, she sounds like she’s in a totally normal mood. He feels a little bad, only for a second, that he’s about to bring it down. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mama,” he says, and lets out all his breath at once. He switches to Spanish, and presses his forehead into his palm. “Sorry— are you busy?”
“No, mijo . Just making dinner.” Right away, she sounds concerned— which means he must sound upset. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh…” How to even begin? He tries a deep breath, and stares at the opposite wall of Ben’s room. He has a bunch of band posters up, and a Providence Bruins one, with a bunch of the team’s autographs. There’s a Rhode Island state flag on the wall where his bed is, and he keeps a mini pan flag in his desk pencil holder. There are also shoes. All over the floor. Three pairs of Vans, running sneakers, dress shoes for gameday, slides. Jeez, Ben. Pick up your footwear.
It’s not enough to focus on. His mind falls right back to the way it felt for Quinn to cry in his arms like that. He has to get it out. “Sorry,” he tells Mama. “I just— um, something happened to Quinn.”
“What?” The alarm in her voice reaches new heights. “Is he okay?”
“He’s— safe, yeah,” Nando replies. “He’s not sick or hurt or anything.”
“What’s wrong?” Mama repeats. “You sound—”
“Upset, I— yeah. I know.” He leans on one of Ben’s bedposts, and makes another earnest attempt at taking a deep breath. “Um— Quinn’s, uh— his grandparents? They saw him on TV in the parade on Thursday.”
“Oh?” Mama pauses. She knows some about Quinn’s situation in Michigan, all because Nando has told her. While he hasn’t told her everything, he’s told her enough. “And… what happened?”
All at once, Nando realizes how close he is to crying. He’s held in his tears for at least an hour now— however long he’s been comforting Quinn. “And—” he says, to Mama, to get the explanation out all in one piece, to rip the band-aid off— “And they, uh, they kicked him out, Mama. They told him he’s no longer welcome at home.”
Mama takes a second, before she speaks again. When she does, her voice is raised a little— part shock, part anger. “ What ?”
“I know.” Nando sniffles, and— oh, shit , he really is crying now. He isn’t embarrassed, because it’s just Mama, but he really, really doesn’t want Quinn to see him crying. He’s safely asleep in his bed, still— Nando can see, through the bathroom, that he hasn’t moved— but he turns away anyway, and wipes his face before he can get too teary. “They just, uh— well, I guess they called him? And they told him they’re, uh— like, not paying for school anymore, and that he can’t stay with them anymore, and— I think, uh— I think he knew they’d be angry? If they found out? But—” Fuck . He’s crying, and now he can’t stop. “I didn’t, I mean— I don’t think either of us really expected—”
“My God,” Mama whispers. “Sebastián, that poor boy.”
“I know,” he cries, and sniffles again. His voice is all stuffed-up and ugly. “I feel so awful, Mama; I, like— I don’t know what to do , I mean— he’s more upset than I’ve ever seen him, and—”
“Be here for him,” Mama replies, firm and decisive, just as she always is. “Just be there, mijo . He’s dealing with more than you can imagine.”
“I know he is.” He uses the end of his sleeve to blot at his cheek. “I know, and— like, I feel so terrible; I’m so angry with them, and he— Mama, he has nowhere to go? He doesn’t even have the money for an apartment. He’s—” He catches the word homeless before it comes out. He knows it’s technically true, but he can’t say it out loud.
“Oh, mijo ,” Mama murmurs, and for a moment, she’s quiet. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to tell me you’re—”
“I’m sorry for Quinn,” she interrupts, then adds, “And I am sorry for you. You’re feeling so terrible for him. I can’t imagine— to go through that…”
“I just—” God , Nando is a mess. He’s so fucking selfish, too, for being a mess— he’s not the one who’s supposed to be a mess right now. He’s the one who’s supposed to be strong. He’s just glad Quinn isn’t seeing this part, glad it’s only Mama to witness. “I want to take it away from him,” he tells Mama. “All of it. I want— I just want to keep him safe.”
“He is safe, Sebastián,” Mama says. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”
“I’m in the next room,” he replies. He hiccoughs, and wipes his nose. “I— I can see him. Sleeping, I mean.”
“Sleeping,” she echoes. “That’s good. Rest will be good for him.”
He thinks, for a second, that he’s gotten his crying under control— and then, like a wave, it comes back again all at once. “I just, he— he has nowhere to go.” He swallows, but it’s no use. “I love him. I want him to be okay, and I’m so— I’m scared , Mama. I’m so scared for him.”
“Hush,” Mama says, evenly. “Breathe, mijo . Just for a moment.”
So he does breathe— and it’s hard. But he gets himself to a steady pace, uninterrupted by tears or sobs. He keeps his eyes locked on Ben’s P-Bruins poster, and tries to read the signatures, like it’ll keep him grounded. Most of them aren’t legible, but when are signatures legible anyway?
Mama is quiet, on the other line. He thinks she’s thinking, and wonders if she’ll have advice— if she can help, somehow. If she’ll know what to do. She does kind of have a track record of always understanding, of always knowing.
He loves Quinn more than anything, and in this moment, he’s at a loss.
“Sebastián,” Mama says, then. “Can I ask you something?”
He sniffles, but doesn’t tear up again. “Yeah.”
Mama takes another second before she says, “You love Quinn very much.”
It isn’t a question— or at least doesn’t sound like one. He’s nodding before she even finishes. “With everything I have, Mama.”
Her next words are an actual question. “And you plan to marry him, don’t you?”
He nods even still. She can’t see him, but he wishes she could. “As soon as I can,” he says, which she knows. She’s known it from the start, because she was the first person he told when he knew Quinn was the one.
“Good.” Mama takes another really long pause before, she says, in that same firm, resigned tone, “Then bring him home.”
Nando blinks at Ben’s wall. He holds his phone a little tighter, as he processes what she says. Bring him home. “Home?” he echoes. “To Phoenix?”
“Yes, Sebastián,” Mama says. “Bring him home. If you know he’s your forever, then bring him home. He can stay with us.”
Nando takes a handful of his curls, and tries to think out what she’s saying. Quinn has been to his house before— once, this past summer, when he had a break from his Spring Awakening shows. It’s when he finally got to meet Mama and his sisters, in person. It was the best few days of Nando’s summer.
But— bring him home . This means something much bigger than a quick, chance visit. If Mama actually wants him to do what she’s saying— that means Quinn will stay with them. Over the winter break. They’ve always planned to move to Arizona after graduation, but this is— this is right now . This is Nando’s own house. This is his mama, telling him to invite the boy he loves with all his heart into her own household.
“Mama, are— are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she says. That’s one thing about Mama— when she makes a decision, she never goes back on it. “You love him, and he has nowhere to go,” she says, like it’s obvious, like there’s no other option. “He’ll stay with us.”
“Mama,” he says, and now he’s crying again. This time, it feels a little less miserable. “I’m— thank you. Thank you so much.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” she says. “You tell him he’s welcome here. That boy deserves to have a roof over his head. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Nando sniffles. He thinks he might be smiling. This won’t solve everything for Quinn— not by a longshot. But it’s an answer to what he kept saying, over and over— I have nowhere to go.
Nando’s home is somewhere. Mama is giving him somewhere. They’ll welcome him home. He’ll be safe. He’ll be right there with him. He’ll be loved.
It’s something. That’s something.
“Okay,” he breathes. He has to stop crying. “Okay, Mama.”
“I love you, mijo ,” she says. “And you love him. So bring him home.”
*
Quinn wakes up not too long later. Nando thinks he must be exhausted— emotionally, for sure, but also physically, from all the sporadic sleeping today. He might not sleep well tonight, and that’s alright. Nando will be here for him, if he doesn’t.
He gets a granola bar from his snack box under his bed, and manages to find an apple in the kitchen. It’s not exactly a well-balanced dinner, but it’s something, so he puts both things aside for Quinn. While he sleeps, he sits next to him in bed, and goes online to look and see if his flight home is sold out.
It isn’t. The tickets that remain are kind of expensive, but Nando is sure he could pull it off. Anything to get Quinn on that plane. Anything to get him home, safe and sound. To get him to somewhere he’s wanted, somewhere he’s loved.
Mama texts him, after they get off the phone. He tells her he’s with him, that he’s waiting for him to wake up. Nando is still checking flight prices, and trying to figure out the money, when Quinn stirs beneath him.
Nando looks to him, and puts his phone down. Quinn rolls over, sits up, and rubs his face. He groans a little, but for the moment, his eyes are dry. He thumps his forehead right against Nando’s chest, and collapses his weight against him. Nando is glad to hold him up.
While he does, he reaches back for Quinn’s hearing aids, and hands them to him so he can put them in. When he has himself situated, Nando starts gentle, with a small voice. “Hey, mi amor .”
Quinn lets out a long breath against his chest. “Hello,” he murmurs. He sounds completely drained, completely unlike himself.
“I got you a snack,” Nando says, and motions to the apple and granola bar. “I know it’s, like, not a lot. But you should eat something. At some point.”
Quinn looks up to him. He’s still not crying, but he has this small, concerned frown. It’s similar to his grouchy frown— grouchy Quinn is cute, with an upturned, pointy nose and a flush in his freckly cheeks— but this one isn’t exactly grouchy. It’s more worried. “Did you eat?”
Nando shakes his head. He rubs the back of his neck. Quinn is very warm, which is probably better than if he were cold. “I’m not that hungry.”
Quinn makes a small noise. He pauses, then hangs his head. “Neither am I.”
“That’s okay, baby.” He smooths the swoop in his hair for him. That’s one of Quinn’s little habits— he fixes his hair all the time. It’s messy now, not that it matters. “You can have it when you get hungry.”
Quinn chuckles, bitterly, and says, “I’m not so sure I will.” He stops, then, and takes a deep breath. It’s good that he’s not crying— but God , the amount of hurt in this boy’s eyes right now. “Sebastián,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” Nando replies, and then he can’t hold it in any longer. He takes Quinn’s face in his hands, and says, “Baby.” He traces a small trail of freckles down Quinn’s cheek. He tries to put as much emphasis, as much intention, into what he says next as he possibly can. He tries to harness Mama’s firm, decisive nature. He meets Quinn’s blue-green eyes, and leans close to him. “Come home with me.”
A lot happens, on Quinn’s face, in the next few seconds. He blinks, and then squints, and his nose twitches just a little. “Come— home with you?” he echoes.
“Yeah.” He cups both his cheeks in his hands. “I talked to my mama. Our basement’s a spare room. You can stay there.”
“What?” Quinn breathes, but the word is barely even there. His eyes are welling up again, and he shakes his head, just slightly— not like he’s declining the invitation, but more like in disbelief. “Sebastián.”
“We can get you on my flight,” he adds. “You can stay with us. We’ll— I mean— I haven’t figured out all the details, but it doesn’t matter. Just—” He moves his hands, to hold his waist instead. “Come home with me.”
“Sebastián,” Quinn repeats. “Are you— are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything, baby.”
Quinn is quiet, for a second. Then he throws himself forward— and Nando is receiving what might be the tightest hug of his life. Given he and Quinn squeeze each other all the time, that’s a feat— but Quinn is holding onto him like he’s never going to let go.
Nando doesn’t want him to.
“Thank you,” he’s saying, over and over. “Thank you, thank you.” He’s a little teary when Nando sees his face again, but not like before. “I love you, honey. I— thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Nando tells him, and holds on tight. “I love you,” he adds, for good measure. He’s said those three words to Quinn a million times. They’ll never be less important.
Quinn is shaking, a little, in his arms. Nando holds to him for a minute more, and then pulls back to grab his hand. Three squeezes in a row. Quinn returns them. Nando looks him in the eye.
“Hell or high water, baby,” he tells him. “Where you go, I go.”
Quinn sniffles, and puts his free hand to his heart. “Me, too,” he says. “Always.”
It feels a little like a vow. They’ve had these moments before— bursts of affirmation, usually when talking about the future. They’ve promised each other these things before, and they’ll promise them again.
Nando has known for two years that he’s going to marry this boy. Tonight, in his warm room, with so much of Quinn’s world turning upside down, he somehow finds himself more certain— even though he knew it before, without a doubt in his mind. Each day, he loves this boy a little more. Each day, he wants to keep him safe always, to never let him go.
The road ahead might be hard. Quinn might be facing a storm. But they’ve been through so much, and they’re at each other’s sides. Nando is going to be here, and he’s going to bring him home safe and sound.