Eliot had not spoken to Quentin in three days. Eliot had not spoke about Quentin in three days. Eliot had not spoken in the same room as Quentin in three days. And yeah, that stung him a little bit. You live an entire lifetime with someone, live and die with someone, and then what—? Forget about them completely? Erase them from the face of the Earth? That is what it seemed Eliot was doing. He avoided any mention of Q, any chance encounter. He stuck to his room mostly, and when business needed to be attended to, he took back passageways. Even though it usually was a longer trip that way, well, it was a much quieter one.

Margo was obviously fed up with the angsty bull-shit these two were pulling—always huffing and puffing about them more than her winy little pre-teen husband.

It wasn't until another stage of the quest popped up that Eliot spoke to Quentin again. It seemed to him, at least, practically a blessing when they found out the next key was going to be a long boat trip away.

"You'll have to do this one on your own, Quentin," Eliot sighed, uncaring. In reality he was busy studying his hands or the hem of his robe or anything that kept him from looking at the man before him.

And sure, maybe it broke Eliot's heart just a little bit when Quentin frowned, obviously disappointed, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. Quentin didn't really want Eliot anywhere near him, he just didn't want to have to finish this stupid quest on his own. Maybe he'll find himself a boat-girl, Eliot thought bitterly, someone else to be life-partners with during this damn thing. Obviously I wasn't good enough.

"Fine," Quentin huffed, before turning sharp on his heel.

Quentin was an idiot. He couldn't just open his mouth and tell Eliot how he felt—which was stupid, they were practically married for god's sake. What made things worse was the fact that Eliot hadn't spoken to him in three days—which was probably the longest time they've spent a part since Rupert got sick and Eliot had to—wait. No. That was then. Quentin felt like banging his head against a wall, or throwing himself off a bridge, or anything really.

Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing. Sure, maybe he'd been moping a little too much, but his life was a little fucked up right now, okay?

When Q found out the next key was an actual adventure for once, involving magical boats, he couldn't help but get excited. Maybe he and Eliot could figure what was happening between them. Maybe he could actually get a grip and explain how he felt for once, instead of falling into this awkward limbo he always seems to get trapped in. At least—that was what he had hoped.

"You'll have to do this one on your own, Quentin," Eliot sighed, and the way he threw about Q's name like it meant nothing to Eliot hurt. Hadn't they had—weren't they—but no, that hadn't happened, and even if it could have happened, well hadn't Quentin royally fucked that up as well?

Quentin frowned slightly, dipping his head. Maybe Eliot was finally over it. Maybe what they had had, or didn't really have but did once, or whatever, didn't matter to him anymore. Maybe Quentin didn't matter to him anymore. It would make sense. That's what always ends up happening to Q.

"Fine," Quentin huffed, before turning sharp on his heel. I guess I'll just have to do this by myself.

A.N: Wow, still short and about three days later than I was planning but here ya go! It is a little longer than last chapter. I really appreciated all the positive comments you guys left, it really gave me the motivation to continue. -G.N.S