Archive of Our Own

the 2019-20 school year | january

• quinn’s sophomore year

• cole’s junior year

Quinn Cooper will happily be the first person to acknowledge that college parties can be overwhelming.

But even Quinn knows, having been a college student for over a year and a half, that not all college parties are created equal. For example, the Kiersey College Theatre Society and the Kiersey Men’s Hockey team do not party in the same way. This is a fact that Quinn has learned well, especially given that the aforementioned two groups are the ones among which he most frequently finds himself attending parties. It’s almost impossible to compare a party at the hockey team’s house across from campus on Beech Street, to a party being thrown at, say, Reid Burke’s apartment. Even though Reid has graduated, Quinn can say with relative confidence that the parties hosted by him and his roommates last year were demonstrative of the general tone of a theatre gathering. And, all things considered, they were quite tame.

So, Quinn supposes, it isn’t exactly college parties that are overwhelming. It’s hockey parties. Jock parties. House parties. He knows this, and has learned it well.

Which is why he entirely blames himself for what happens when he drags Cole out to one.

In his defense, he gives Cole a choice. After the first home game of the spring semester, a 4-1 win against UMaine, Quinn goes back to his room to change out of his dress clothes (because co-managing the hockey team is best done in style) and into more suitable attire for a Beech Street party (read: thrifted jeans, a striped t-shirt that he shrunk in the wash on purpose, and a hoodie he stole from Sebastián). When he’s nearly ready, he crosses his and Cole’s shared bathroom and pokes his head into Cole’s side of the room. “Cole, are you awake?”

A faint grumbling sound, from the direction of Cole’s bed, gives him an unclear answer. Cole’s room is dark, lit only by faint evening light that’s coming through his window. Ever since they became roommates at the beginning of this school year, Quinn has made it his goal to ensure that Cole is alive at least several times per day. It is honestly a full-time job, but one he does happily, because ensuring his best friend’s survival is rather critical. He lingers in the doorway, and tries, “I’m headed out to see the team, and I wanted to know if you’d want to come.”

Cole’s comforter moves slightly, and then— aha!— he lives. Sitting halfway up in bed, Cole rubs his left eye, and then pushes his hair away from his face. “Define ‘seeing the team.’”

“I’m going to Beech Street,” Quinn explains, and pauses, hesitating slightly. “If… um, if you’d like to join me?”

Cole looks dubious, and Quinn can’t really blame him. Goodness knows the only reason Quinn himself would ever be caught dead in the house on Beech Street is because of Sebastián. Oh, sure, the others on the team are his friends ; he’s taken quite a liking to Ben, Remy, Jordan, Sam, and all the rest. But without Sebastián, there would be no reason for Quinn to be there. Or in any frat house, for that matter. The place is disorganized at best, and a cesspool at worst.

“You actually want me to come?” Cole asks, which… isn’t accusatory , exactly; he doesn’t seem to imply that Quinn wouldn’t want him to come, or that it’s a terribly unusual invitation. Rather, Cole’s emphasis is on his ‘me.’ He’s doubting his own ability to fit in at Beech Street. Cole has been there a handful of times, each time accompanying Quinn, but never for a post-game party. It’s understandable that he’s hesitant. Quinn was nervous his first time, too.

Quinn leans against the doorframe. “I suppose I just thought you might want to get out instead of being alone all night.”

Cole sits all the way up, perching cross-legged on his mattress. His room is a disaster, but it usually is. He seems to have spent the afternoon on a date with his beloved guitar, if its open case and the music pages strewn all over his floor are any indication. Quinn watches as he gropes around on his bedside table until he finds his glasses, and then slides them on, blinking tightly a couple times before he regains his focus.

Unceremoniously, Cole asks, “Is Ben gonna be there, or does he have to go sleep with the entire women’s soccer team or something?”

Quinn snorts. “To my knowledge,” he replies, “Mr. Shaley will be in attendance.”

Cole thinks about it for a second, and then, with a long sigh, he jumps off of his bed. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.”

Quinn smiles, just a little. “Don’t rush!” he tells him, and then, as he turns to go back into his own side of the room, he counts this as a little accomplishment for the day. It’s always a good thing when he manages to get Cole out of the dorm, rather than leaving him here and feeling guilty that he’s being sad all by himself while Quinn himself goes out and has fun.

The hockey team lives on the corner of Beech Street and College Road. Some of their neighbors are students in apartments or other houses, but other neighbors are regular old families, who are unfortunate enough to have to deal with partying college students living next door. Considering the off-campus housing, Quinn feels at least mildly certain that the hockey team’s residence isn’t the most wild of the bunch. The lacrosse and football houses are both known for having one ambulance transport for alcohol poisoning per weekend, if not more.

So really, Quinn reasons with himself, it’s not the worst that it could be. Alex Santiago— or Teegs, to his teammates— is the captain this year, and, to Quinn’s knowledge, has been in charge of party planning at Beech Street since he was a freshman. He plays a lot of Pitbull, loudly, and does tequila shots with Sebastián, but the majority of the team are careful about things like girls getting home safe and cutting people off when they’ve had enough to drink.

“It really isn’t so crazy,” he tells Cole, as they leave their dorm out the front door, “as long as you stick to the people you know.”

“Right.” Cole looks unconvinced. The door swings shut behind them, and they venture out into the winter night. “Stick to who you know.”

For a moment, he feels guilty. Perhaps he’s scaring Cole away from the idea of Beech Street, before they’ve even arrived. “You don’t have to come,” he says. “If you’re feeling reluctant, that is. I feel as if I’m forcing you to do this.”

Cole shakes his head. He’s donned his favorite green beanie to go out in, and his hair is getting long. “Don’t worry,” he replies, and sounds earnest. “You aren’t forcing me. I want to come.”

And on that particular conversational thread, Cole does not elaborate— which, Quinn decides, is how they wind up in the place they are by the end of the night.

Across campus, Beech Street is already up and running. The order of events after a win in a game at home tends to be ‘get out of your gear, go back to the house, and immediately start partying,’ and things seem to have transpired as usual today. “Hey, baby,” says Sebastián, who is handsome as ever in an Arizona Coyotes t-shirt and joggers. Bright-eyed, he seems to glow in the party lighting of the house’s kitchen, as he wraps Quinn up in his arms. “Missed you,” he adds, and plants a kiss on his cheek, before waving to Cole. “Hey, man!”

“Hey.” Already, Cole looks a bit shifty on his feet. “Thanks for letting me come.”

Sebastián laughs, as if the idea of Cole needing permission is preposterous. “Dude, you’re always welcome! I’m glad you came out.”

At this, Cole eases up, even if just a little. Sebastián has that effect on people— he’s very, very good at making people feel comfortable. “Me, too,” Cole replies, and it sounds like a decision. Quinn counts this as another minor victory.

The thing about having two distinct groups of friends, who are very different from one another, is that mixing the two groups doesn’t always work. Quinn has learned this firsthand, during his time in college thus far. In Cole, he’s found something unique: the possibility of mixing hockey team friends with theatre friends. He counts himself lucky that Cole happens to get along with Sebastián, Ben, and Remy. It’s why he took a shot in the dark with tonight’s party. To be sure, it’s loud in here, and crowded, too. But Cole will be okay, because he’s in the company of friends.

“No fucking shit,” says a loud voice, sailing over the tops of heads from a few feet away. “Is that who I think it is?” If Quinn didn’t already know who that voice belonged to, he’d swear, based on the projection, that it were a theatre student.

But it isn’t. It’s one Benjamin Shaley, who just happens to be loud by nature. He’s making his way directly towards them, with what looks like not one but two companions in tow. Quinn has never seen either of them before, but Ben is, quite honestly, a seasoned expert at befriending (and, later, hooking up with) random people at parties. “It is !” Ben continues, as he comes to a stop. He’s wearing a tank-top, and, if the healthy red of his cheeks is any indication, already has a few drinks in him. “Cole Kolinsky!”

Cole offers a small shrug, tucking his hands into his pockets. “In the flesh.”

“ Dude , you’re at Beech!” Ben offers his arm for a clapping handshake that he turns into a hug, and Cole looks startled, even as Ben releases him. “For a party!”

“Uh, yeah?” Cole pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Quinn invited me.”

Ben looks to Quinn now, with a huge, proud smile. “Of course you did,” he says, and offers a high-five, which Quinn returns, despite an internal reluctance to enable him. “Fucking legend,” Ben adds, and then, to Cole, he says, “If I could introduce you to two of Kiersey’s finest?” Without waiting for an answer, he slings one arm around either of the strangers at his side.

In an effort to avoid reacting, Quinn presses his forehead against Sebastián’s shoulder, instead. Sebastián’s whole body is warm, and he slides an arm around Quinn’s waist. “You okay, baby?”

Quinn laughs a little, and nods. “I’m fine.”

Meanwhile, Ben is still talking to poor Cole. “This is Livvy, and this is Jace. We’ve all decided to become acquainted this evening.” He’s wearing his most flirtatious grin, and both Livvy and Jace seem way too focused on being the object of Ben’s attention to care that he’s trying to introduce them both to Cole.

Then again, Cole doesn’t seem to care too much, either. He turns to Quinn, and his voice is this urgent deadpan. “Where is the alcohol?”

Quinn laughs again. He himself could use something to drink. “It’s in the cooler on the porch,” he replies, and beckons for Cole to follow him. “This way.”

“Hey,” Ben the Tipsy Flirt calls, as they’re leaving him. “Don’t be strangers!”

*

Quinn only has a drink and a half in his system when he gets separated from Cole.

When it happens, he’s in the kitchen again, lingering at Sebastián’s side the way he normally does at parties. Alex is playing Pitbull, true to form, and the noise throbs at his ears. He usually takes his hearing aids off altogether at times like these, since parties here are generally easier when he at least can’t hear the loud music, not to mention that understanding anybody in this setting is nearly impossible, unless it’s Sebastián, who gets up close and speaks clearly on purpose. To do tonight without his ears in, though, would create a language barrier between himself and Cole— so for socializing’s sake, he’s been listening all night.

It’s why he panics, for a second, when he turns around and Cole isn’t there. He reaches to squeeze Sebastián’s hand, to get his attention. “Have you seen Cole?”

Sebastián nods, not alarmed in the slightest, which helps to turn off Quinn’s internal alarm bells. He tips his head to their left. “He’s right there.”

Cole is right there; he’s with Ben, plus Ben’s two new ‘friends.’ The four of them aren’t alone, though; Remy is with them, and so is Reyna, Quinn’s co-manager, with whom Cole is actually speaking. Though still a bit of a fish out of water, Cole looks as if he doesn’t entirely want to die. He’s on his third drink, and he’s smiling at Rey. Quinn relaxes, and leans against Sebastián. “Thank goodness.”

“You’re like a chaperone,” Sebastián laughs, wrapping both arms around him.

“I just don’t want to leave him with Drunk Ben,” Quinn confesses, tipping his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. He hooks his hands around the back of Sebastián’s neck. “You know how he can be.”

“Oh, I know.” Sebastián pauses, and then gets this little glint in his eye. “You look really hot,” he remarks, which makes Quinn’s stomach do this lovely little somersault. His hand, warm and strong, rubs at the sliver of skin where Quinn’s shirt is riding up his waist. “Wanna get married, or something?”

“Sure thing, my love.” Quinn kisses him, then adds, “I suppose we’ll need a priest or something, though, won’t we?”

Sebastián shrugs, with a cheeky smile. “All we need’s a witness.”

Quinn eyes the group to their left. “Rey will do it.”

“She totally will.” Sebastián kisses him again, for longer this time. He tastes like beer and sweat, but it’s honestly attractive, in the same way he’s attractive in his gear after a hard-played game. The one kiss becomes a few. Quinn would be lying if he said that Sebastián being all over him wasn’t his favorite part of Beech Street parties.

It feels particularly nice tonight, so he decides to egg him on a bit. “You played a good game today, Mr. Hernandez.”

“Did I?” Sebsatián’s smile is so, so charming. “Well, what can I say. A day in the life, I guess.”

“Of course, naturally.” Quinn mimes holding a microphone up to him, like they’re in a post-game interview. “Any thoughts on your successes as alternate captain?”

“Actually, yeah,” Sebastián replies. “See, there’s this guy I’ve been trying to impress; he’s our manager—”

“Oh, really ,” Quinn laughs, which effectively breaks his interviewer character, but he keeps up the questioning anyways. “I don’t suppose you’re trying to get lucky with him, are you?”

The twinkle in Sebastián’s eye is back. “So what if I am?”

Quinn kisses him again, in lieu of a response, and Sebastián responds in kind. Even in these parties, when it seems like everyone and their mother has decided to pay a visit to Beech Street, all it takes is a moment like this to feel like he and Sebastián are the only two people in the world.

Quinn missed this, over the winter break. He missed it so very much.

*

The night comes to an end prematurely.

It isn’t really an end that Quinn expects. He’s been here for maybe two hours, maybe a little less, bouncing between being alone with Sebastián and joining the nearby group of friends. Ben has disappeared, and so have his… companions , but Reyna’s girlfriend, Leah, has shown up, as have a few girls from the women’s hockey team, so the numbers have balanced out. Things have been going well— until, suddenly, they aren’t anymore.

Quinn has had his eye on Cole all night. At times when they’ve been talking or in the same group, it’s been easy, but even when Quinn has been off to the side with Sebastián, he’s been making sure Cole in sight, and that he doesn’t look uncomfortable. While an Usher song from the early 2010s blasts over the stereo, and Sebastián is doing his best, most terrible vocals, Quinn watches Cole finish off a hard seltzer, then fully stumble on his feet. He’s overly flushed, and he’s looking around, as if searching for something.

Oh. Goodness . How much has he had?

“Cole?” Quinn pulls him aside, gently gripping the sleeve of his black sweatshirt. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m, uh—” He’s slurring. Quinn can see that his eyes are hazy. “I’m fine.”

Carefully, Quinn takes the can he’s holding away from him. “How many of these have you had?”

Cole blinks, and then, after a pause that’s too long, he asks, “What?”

Oh, dear.

Quinn keeps his hold on Cole’s sleeve, and glances over his shoulder for Sebastián. Because he is the world’s most lovely boy, who always knows what to do, he’s already right behind him. In a low voice, Quinn tells him, “He’s completely gone.”

Because he is a considerate and lovely boy, who is mindful of the noise, Sebastián replies in what could be considered the ASL equivalent of broken English. His few semesters of taking it as a class have gradually helped the two of them to use it to communicate. Quinn’s Spanish is in about the same shape. “It looks like it.” Sebastián wears a concerned frown. “I didn’t notice until now.”

“Neither did I,” Quinn says, which makes him feel like an awful roommate, and an even worse best friend. He knew that Cole was drinking— but this is a hockey team party; everybody drinks, even Quinn himself, albeit in small amounts. He still speaks English, because to sign would require letting go of Cole’s sleeve, and he isn’t keen on that. “Unless it just hit him?”

“It might have just hit him,” Sebastián signs, and then Cole is tugging at him, like he wants to pull his sleeve away.

“Hey, I’m fine, Q,” Cole says, still slurring. “I already told you.”

Quinn passes the empty can off to Sebastián, then turns back to Cole. There isn’t any use dwelling on how Cole got this way; the best thing to do now is help him handle it. “Are you ready to go back?”

Cole gives him that blank stare again. “Back where?”

Quinn lets go of his sleeve, but stays on alert. “To our room.”

Cole looks around again, and then shakes his head. “But you’re—” He hiccoughs, and starts again. “You’re with Sebastián.”

“I can see him anytime I want to,” Quinn replies. “You shouldn’t walk back by yourself.”

Cole pushes his bangs out of his face, and then stumbles again. Sebastián lunges toward Cole, like he’s ready to catch him. “Hey, take it easy, dude,” he says. “Do you want some water?”

“I’m fine,” Cole repeats, waving Sebastián away. “I’m good.”

“I’m getting him water,” Sebastián announces, and then he disappears into the crowd. Quinn holds him by the sleeve again, to prevent another near-topple.

“I’ll go with you,” Quinn tells him. “Back to our room. You’ll feel better once you’re there.”

Cole looks, for a second, like he’s about to declare that he’s fine for a third time, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods at his shoes. Quinn has seen him tipsy a couple of times, but never like this.

When Sebastián returns with a bottle of water, Quinn uncaps it, and passes it to Cole. “You need to stay hydrated,” Sebastián explains, “but drink slowly, okay?”

Cole looks reluctant, but complies. Quinn looks up to Sebastián, and tells him, “I’m taking him back.”

Sebastián nods. “Do you need an extra hand?”

*

Getting Cole across campus, back to the dorm, is a bit of a project.

For one thing, Cole can’t really navigate correctly. Because Sebastián comes along, they sort of mitigate his fall risk, but it’s still a long and sort of grueling walk. Cole doesn’t say much, but they get him to keep drinking water. When they reach their floor, after taking an elevator ride and dodging an RA, Quinn unlocks Cole’s side of the room, and they manage to help him reach his bed.

“I’m fine,” Cole is saying, as he tries to wave them off. “I’m good, really.” He hiccoughs again, before adding, “You guys didn’t have to leave.”

Quinn shrugs, taking a seat next to him on the edge of the mattress. “I was reaching my quota of partying for the night anyway.”

“Yeah,” Sebastián says, with a good-natured laugh. Quinn will never stop being grateful for this boy. “Me, too.”

Cole scoffs a little, and looks up to Sebastián. “You’re on the hockey team,” he says. “You don’t get tired of partying.”

Sebastián laughs again. “You’d be surprised.”

Cole is quiet, for a second. His expression gets dimmer, for some reason, as he remarks, “Ben doesn’t.”

At the mere thought, Quinn rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s definitely true.”

“Ben doesn’t have an off switch,” Sebastián adds.

Cole kind of laughs, but then hiccoughs again, and brings one hand to his stomach. Quietly, he announces, “I feel sick.”

Quinn looks from him to Sebastián, for a moment, and then formulates a plan. “Why don’t you drink some more water,” he says, “and try to take it easy for a minute. Do you need the bathroom?”

Cole looks vaguely unenthused about this. The color has mostly drained from his face. “Uh.” He sways just a little, although he’s seated. “Sure. Yeah. Maybe.”

“Here.” Quinn hands him the water bottle, then jumps off his bed, crossing his room to the bathroom door. He flicks on the light inside, and beckons for Cole. “I’ll sit with you, if you want.”

Sebastián approaches him first, and touches his elbow, just gently. “I’ll go to your side,” he signs. “I think he needs privacy.”

Quinn nods. Somehow, Sebastián has managed to read his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time. He signs back, mindful of his speed, so that he can understand. “I think you’re right.”

“Call if you need me, okay?” Sebastián rubs the side of his arm. “I’ll wait up for you.”

“Thank you, my love.”

When Sebastián has disappeared into Quinn’s side of the room, Quinn turns on the shower in the bathroom. Although he’s quite confident that putting Cole into the shower in this condition would be a terrible idea, he thinks the white noise would make Cole feel less self-conscious if he were feeling sick.

But because Cole is drunk, this seems to confuse him. All of a sudden, he’s reached the bathroom doorway, like Sebastián’s disappearance has summoned him out of his bed. “Are you,” he starts, before steadying himself on his feet. “Are you taking a shower?”

Quinn shakes his head. “Just running the water.”

Cole squints, like this makes no sense, but it appears that he doesn’t want to dedicate the energy to figuring out what it’s for. Instead, he stumbles into the bathroom, and then sits down across from the toilet. With a long exhale, he pulls his legs into his chest. At some point in the past three minutes, he’s taken off his Doc Martens, and the beanie he was wearing.

Quinn sits down next to him, cross-legged on the bathroom floor. Having their own bathroom was a serious perk of securing this medical double. It’s certainly coming in handy tonight. “Just keep hydrating,” Quinn tells him. “Slow sips.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cole tips the water bottle backwards again, and swallows twice. “I’m sipping.” He puts the water bottle down between them, and then wraps his arms around his knees.

Quinn stays quiet for a second. He wonders if his presence is annoying Cole, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave him in here by himself. “You didn’t, um… have any of Alex Santiago’s jungle juice, did you?”

“No.” Cole lets out a sharp breath, which Quinn thinks is some skeleton of a laugh. “No, not that. Ben was drinking that.”

“I don’t understand how anybody can drink that stuff,” Quinn remarks. “I mean, goodness — who even knows what’s in there?”

“Bodily fluids,” Cole remarks, and then starts actually laughing at himself, for a whole three seconds, until he hiccoughs again. This causes him to groan, and he presses his forehead to his knees, where there are rips in his jeans. “ Ughhhh .”

“I’m sorry.” Quinn grimaces, at the thought of being in his position right now. “I know. It’s an awful feeling. Just try to relax.”

“I’m doing my best.” Cole isn’t slurring quite as much as he was at Beech Street, which is a good sign. It’s probably because there isn’t any more alcohol actively going into his system. He lifts his head, and blinks through the haze in his eyes, as he looks Quinn up and down. “Shouldn’t you be, like…” He nods in the direction of Quinn’s room. “Making out with him, or something?”

Quinn chuckles a little, and shakes his head. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Cole hums, like this wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He takes off his glasses, inspects them, and then returns them to his face. He’s still blinking tightly, like he’s having trouble focusing his sight line on anything. The shower running is the only sound, for a minute.

Finally, Cole remarks, “You’re lucky.”

Quinn tips his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You’re lucky,” he repeats, and nods to his door again, like he’s talking about Sebastián. “To have him.”

“I know.” Quinn softens, just a little, and reflects on how very true that is. Not many jocks at this school would interrupt their party, and celebrating a win, to help a drunk music major back to his room. Sebastián is the sweetest boy who has ever been. “I’m grateful for him every day.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cole smiles, an expression that seems bitter but not at all cruel. It’s confusing for just a second, until Cole speaks, and then it makes perfect sense. “I wish I had somebody.”

Quinn sobers, and frowns. He feels guilty, now, for gushing about Sebastián, even though it was only for a moment. “I’m sorry, Cole.”

“Don’t be.” Cole’s bitter smile remains. He’s looking straight ahead, not at Quinn anymore. “I’ve pretty much given up hope anyway.”

“Well, don’t do that ,” Quinn urges him. Cole has had two girlfriends while in college— first, Claire, a relationship that predated Quinn’s time at Kiersey, and then Rachel, last semester, who seemed really nice, but they only dated for two months. They broke up because she was studying abroad this spring, and they weren’t serious enough yet to try long-distance. “After all,” Quinn tries, in hopes that he might be able to lift his spirits, “there are plenty of people out there you haven’t met yet.”

Cole snorts, like something is funny, and then hangs his head so his forehead is on his knees again. “Yeah, I guess.” Quinn tries rubbing his back, a steady hand for support. Cole doesn’t protest, but he does speak again. “I feel stupid.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” Quinn says. “Everybody drinks too much every now and again. There isn’t anything stupid about it.”

“That’s not—” Cole hiccoughs, and lifts his head. “That’s not why I feel stupid.”

“Then what do you mean?”

His bitter smile is back. He fixes his glasses. “I feel stupid ,” he says, “because I got myself into this problem, and now I can’t get out of it.”

Quinn squints, and pauses a moment. If Cole isn’t talking about being drunk, then Quinn has positively no idea what he means by ‘this problem.’ “I don’t think I follow.”

“I should’ve known,” Cole replies, either not hearing him or not caring that Quinn doesn’t understand. “Like, I should’ve known what was gonna happen, but I was still stupid, and I didn’t think about it.”

“Cole?” Quinn removes his hand from his back, but scoots a little closer to him on their bath mat. “What are you talking about?”

“Like, it’s so stupid .” Cole shakes his head. He’s looking straight ahead again, and won’t meet his eyes. Maybe on purpose. “Because, like— what kind of person catches feelings for someone they know it’s never gonna work out with?”

Quinn stills. He feels, all of a sudden, as if he’s hearing something he isn’t supposed to hear.

But Cole doesn’t stop. “I don’t know why I do this to myself,” he says. “I keep doing this to myself, and then I just feel stupid after, and I wish that I could just forget about it, but every time I think I’m over it, it comes back, and I just—” He squeezes his eyes shut, and winces, like this pains him somehow, or maybe it’s just the alcohol. “I just wind up feeling stupid again.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” Quinn finds himself saying, because he feels utterly silly just sitting here, saying nothing, while his best friend spills his innermost feelings. He hasn’t the slightest idea who Cole is talking about, but he tries to be optimistic. “Who’s to say things would never work out with her?”

“They wouldn’t,” Cole says, with a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s literally impossible.”

Quinn racks his brain. The only girl he really saw Cole talking to tonight for more than a minute was Reyna, which, well— if Cole had a crush on her , that would certainly explain his despair. Even if Rey were single, she’s a lesbian, and everybody knows it. Strictly speaking about looks, she does fit the trend of Cole’s ‘type.’ Quinn frowns. “I’m sorry, Cole,” he says. “But even if this person isn’t the right one for you, there are lots of girls out there, and—”

Cole is shaking his head. “I thought it would get easier,” he says. “Maybe over winter break, at least, because we’re not on campus, right? So I thought it would be better.”

Quinn nods. “But then you went to this party, and…”

“That’s the thing.” Cole’s voice is getting strained, like he’s feeling worse instead of better. “It’s not even just that I went to the party. Like, I thought I could escape it at home, right? Because at least we’re not at school. But then he calls me, and he’s like, hey, Kolinsky, let’s hang out, and I can’t even really say no because he literally knows I live fifteen minutes up the street from him and that I don’t have a life…”

Quinn has never felt more frozen.

“... and so he drags me out of the house and we, like, get high or whatever, and he says hi to my mom and buys me snacks and stuff, and then—”

Ben . It’s a quiet revelation of his own. Cole is talking about Ben. Not Reyna, or some other mystery girl. Ben Shaley, the professional flirt, the king of one-night stands, of no strings attached.

Cole has… feelings for Ben.

“... and then we come back here , and he’s, like, literally hooking up with everybody , and it just makes me feel so stupid , because it’s like I forget what he’s actually like when I’m just hanging out with him by myself, and— who would ever fall for someone like that? Right?”

Quinn sits still, and does his very best not to react. On the one hand, it’s a shock— because to his knowledge, up to this point, Cole has always been straight, has only ever liked girls, and this changes that. But on the other… goodness , it makes so much sense.

“And I’ll think I’m fine about it, and then I’ll see him again, and he’ll do stupid stuff that makes me all warm inside, and the worst part is I know he doesn’t even mean it, because he’ll literally never see me that way, and how could I be so stupid to let this happen?”

Cole’s offhanded comments about Ben. Will he be there, or does he have to go sleep with the entire women’s soccer team? Or wanting a drink upon being introduced to Ben’s flirt-mates for the night. Or even, Ben doesn’t get tired of partying.

Cole has feelings for Ben.

“Cole,” Quinn finds himself saying, finally finding his words. “How long has this been going on?”

But then something strange happens— Cole jumps a little, and seems to become more aware of his surroundings; he turns to look at Quinn instead of just staring into space. All the color has drained from his face, and he looks like a deer in headlights.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers.

He’s just realized what he’s saying. What he’s confessing . Out loud. To another human being.

Immediately, Quinn jumps on the defensive. “Hey,” he says, in a hushed voice, even though the shower is plenty of noise to drown them both out. “Do not worry.” He raises his right hand, as if taking an oath. “I won’t tell a soul .”

“Oh, shit,” Cole groans, and then hides his face in his hands. “Oh, no —”

“ Cole . I’m very serious.” Quinn rests a hand on his shoulder again, tentatively. “I can keep a secret. It’s safe with me.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Cole laments, like the world is crashing down around him. “He’s your friend, too.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Quinn has kept secrets before— in fact, given how much lying by omission he does to his own grandparents, he would consider himself something of an expert in keeping secrets. “Just because he’s my friend too doesn’t mean he has a right to your personal business.”

“But you’ll feel so awkward …” Cole takes a fist full of his own hair, and groans again. “ Fuck , I’m so stupid …”

“You aren’t stupid.” Quinn slides his arm around Cole’s shoulders, which is how he discovers that he’s shaking. “You can’t control the way you feel.”

“But I can control when I make it other people’s problem.”

“Cole,” Quinn tries. “You’re my best friend. You aren’t ‘making it my problem.’ I’m here for you, even if it’s something you feel stupid about.”

Cole looks to him, and does that blinking thing again. He looks, for a moment, as if he’s going to start protesting again, but finally, all he says is, “Thank you.” And then, after a pause, “I’m gonna be sick.”

At least he makes it to the toilet, but Quinn still winces; being so drunk that you’re sick seems like an incredibly unpleasant sensation. He’s never reached that point himself, nor does he plan to. He feels awfully for Cole, who clearly didn’t intend for this to happen. Come to think of it, he probably drank so much to distract himself from Ben, which… is so much worse than just drinking for the sake of drinking.

Quinn needs to do a better job of making sure that Cole is okay.

He can start now, he supposes. He grabs the water bottle from the floor, and then scoots up to sit on the other side of the toilet, and rubs Cole’s back again. The whole ‘supervising drunk friend in the bathroom’ thing isn’t an entirely new phenomenon; he did it for Maggie once last semester, and another time last spring. The least he can do is sit with Cole now, and wait for the feeling to pass, so that he can get some rest.

“This is gross,” Cole says, looking briefly to him, before he sort of groans again. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”

Quinn shakes his head. “I’m not leaving until you get to bed,” he says, and keeps his promise.

*

In the morning, while Quinn is brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a knock comes from Cole’s side. “Come in,” he says, with a mouth full of toothpaste, and promptly spits into the sink.

When Cole opens his door, Quinn feels a pang of sympathy; he’s most certainly feeling the effect of last night. He wears a green sweatshirt with its hood pulled up, and his face is barely visible in the shadow of his hair. His glasses are missing. He shuffles across the bathroom, and stands next to Quinn in front of the mirror.

Although Quinn is pretty certain that he knows the answer, he asks a question anyway. “How are you feeling?”

Cole laughs, instead of saying anything. He brings his palms to his face, and rubs his eyes, very slowly. When he finally speaks, it’s to ask, “Did I say something stupid to you last night?”

Quinn pauses— he wasn’t fully prepared for this scenario. As he rinses off his toothbrush and returns it to its proper place, he deliberates if it would be better to say yes or no. Before he can decide, though, Cole continues, “It’s okay.” He pulls down his hood, which reveals that his hair is a colossal, long, thick mess. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t remember. I kinda do. It’s why I asked.”

Quinn hesitates still. He dries his hands on a washcloth. “Would you… prefer if we forgot about it?”

“No.” Cole picks up his hairbrush, and runs it exactly once through his hair before giving up. He lets off a long sigh, and then, as he looks at their side-by-side reflections in the mirror, remarks, “It’s kind of good that somebody else knows, now. I guess. But I have to deal with the consequences of being a dumbass, so it’s stupid if we pretend like I didn’t tell you.”

“You aren’t a dumbass,” Quinn replies. He meets his eyes in the mirror. “I mean it.” Cole crosses his arms, and stays quiet for a minute. Quinn takes the opportunity to add, “And I mean it when I say your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks.” Cole sighs again, heavier this time, and then picks up his hairbrush again, like he’s changed his mind in the span of fifteen seconds. He sets to work on taming his hair, and Quinn stands with him, still and quiet.

Being a more observant roommate starts today. Starts right now.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” he tries. “I’ll buy.”

Cole squints. “What about Sebastián?”

Quinn tips his head toward his side of the room. “He left just a minute ago. He has a bit of homework to catch up on.”

“Oh.” Cole pauses, considers this, and then, finally, “Sure, I’ll go to breakfast.”

As it happens, they have a lot of catching up to do.