Friday night he sat in the parking lot of the Lima bus station, waiting for Sam. He had Boxer playing on a loop and was mumbling along to "Squalor Victoria" when Sam tapped on the window of his car and let himself in.
"You really dig these guys?" Sam said, trying to cut the obvious tension.
"Yeah. I never actually thanked you for that. So, thanks."
"No problem."
They sat quiet for a long while. He finally pulled out of the parking lot and set out towards home.
"You want me to drop you off at Finn's? Just so you can throw your stuff there?"
"Actually, I'm staying with Mike. You know where he lives?"
"Yeah, he's not too far from Santana's. Lima Heights Adjacent, my ass."
That earned him a small chuckle from Sam. "He said he was gonna invite a bunch of people over to hang out or whatever. Mostly glee, I think. He told me that hanging out was a condition of getting the guest bedroom, but I think he was mostly joking. I can just drop my stuff off and then-"
"No, go hang out with them. It's probably for the best, anyways. They're your friends, just, if they ask about me, don't say anything." Sam gave him a look. "We can talk tomorrow."
Sam took a breath. "Yeah, okay. I'm sure you're more than welcome to come with."
He didn't even respond to that.
"I mean, I figured. It was worth a shot," Sam said, and sighed. "How are you doing?"
"I don't know. Better, I guess. Better now."
Sam didn't say anything back, just nodded and began tapping out the beat of the song on the armrest while staring out the windshield until they got to Mike's.
Around one in the morning he got a text from Sam. He was already asleep (or, at least, trying to), but checked it anyway, figuring he was probably drunk and maybe someone needed a ride home. As much as he wanted to avoid glee kids, he wasn't going to let one of them try to kill themselves by driving like a moron.
should i still call you quinn? obv not in front of people but do you have a new name or something? i was reading this thing that said trans people pick new names a lot of the time
Sam was obviously drunk, there was no way he would be that forward in asking a question ever.
He flipped his phone open and tried six times to write out a response, but he hadn't actually thought about his name much. It was just there, and it meant something to him four years ago when he first asked his parents to call him that, but now, Quinn was a lot like Lucy. Quinn was a different person, a host he was living in because he had to in order to survive.
Quinn for now, I guess. I haven't really thought about it, he finally wrote back.
A few minutes later, his phone chimed again.
okay man. im probably going to ask a lot more stpid questions like that, but i tried reading some stuff so i won't. see u tomorrow
He didn't respond, just felt a wave of relief pass over him. At least one person would have his back.
His mother had left for Dayton early Saturday for a breast cancer walk that her new book club, or something, was participating in. It was hard to keep track, but the past few times she had actually left notes with where she was going to be, and she had only gone off a handful of times since the semester had started.
He spent the morning flicking through television channels and nervously tapping his foot. Sam hadn't called or texted him since the night before, and he was starting to doubt that either of them was really, actually ready to have this conversation sober and in the daylight. But halfway through an episode of Pawn Stars the doorbell rang and he opened the door to find Sam, hands in his pockets and staring at the shoes he was scuffing against the porch.
"Did you walk here? It's freezing," he said.
"It's not that far. Besides, it was a long night, I figured it would help clear my head up a bit."
He let Sam in and they went back to the den, sitting on opposite ends of the couch, and watched the rest of the episode.
"I've always thought that picture of Jim Morrison looked like She-Hulk," Sam said, breaking the quiet.
"That's probably why no one has ever bought it."
"Probably."
The episode ended and abruptly switched over to a documentary from the 90's about the Ku Klux Klan. He reached for the remote and quickly shut it off, leaving awkward silence between them.
"So," he began.
"Yeah." Sam ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. "You're a guy." He didn't say it like a question, more just a statement of fact.
"Something like that, yeah. I mean, I feel like I'm one. Or that I should have been one. Or-god, I don't know," he said while staring at the ceiling and trying to avoid eye contact.
"How long have you known?"
"I think since I got pregnant, maybe since I was a little kid. I really don't know. I mean, I only figured it out this summer. The name for it, you know? But I couldn't admit it to myself. And the only reason I did was because I thought I had a chance of getting out of this stupid city, because I can't be whatever this is here. I just can't," he rushed out.
"Fuck, Quinn."
He laughed. "Yeah, I know."
Sam turned to look at him. "Why did you go out with me?"
"I liked you. That wasn't a lie. Yeah, part of me just wanted to feel normal, like I was supposed to, and you made it easy to ignore whatever was gnawing at me." He laughed again. "When I broke up with you, I always told myself that I could never tell you why, because you'd think I was crazy."
"I don't think you're crazy."
"I needed to have a friend, Sam, and you're the most kind, decent person I've ever met. I needed you to be here, right now. And that wouldn't have happened if we kept dating and eventually broke up anyways and went our separate ways to college or whatever. I loved you, a lot more than as my boyfriend. I was just really, I don't know, messed up in my head, and didn't know how to tell you that and still keep you in my life. So, I was awful to you instead. I didn't mean to, I just needed to make sure, but also have someone else there so I could keep being seen as normal, so I could feel that way. Finn was just easy, because you know, I'd been there before, and he would never catch on, because he means well, but he just isn't perceptive at all."
"Dude, I think this is the most I've ever heard you talk at once."
"It feels weird," he said, and made a face that had them both chuckling.
Sam sobered quickly, though. "What are you gonna do?"
He was quiet again for a long while, trying to come up with an answer. Being part of the Skanks and keeping his head low and just getting out was immediate, but he had no idea after that.
"I don't know, Sam. I just-I don't know."
"Are you going to tell anyone else?"
"No. I'd get eaten alive at school and get a hundred times more shit than Kurt ever did. My mother would probably just kick me out again. No one can know. Promise me you won't say anything."
"I never would. You know that."
He sank back into the couch and threw a hand over his eyes. A panic began welling up inside him again at the thought of someone knowing. Someone real, right in front of him, acting like a saint in just being a friend. Sam scooted down the couch and threw an arm around him to try and hug him, but he fell forward holding his head in his hands, breathing hard and trying not to try and break completely.
"Hey, whoa. It'll be okay, Quinn," Sam said, putting a hand on his back. "It'll be alright."
"Fuck," he breathed out, and leaned into Sam's side.
"It's okay. There's nothing wrong with you, you know that, right?"
"I would really beg to differ," he said with a weak laugh.
"But really. You'll figure this out, and you'll get into Northwestern or Harvard or something and just be whoever you are."
"I'm not going to Harvard. Didn't even apply."
"Whatever, doesn't matter. You'll get out of here, and it'll be alright."
"Thanks, Sam. God, I hope so."
Sam held him awkwardly by his side for a long while. He could see their reflections in the television, and in the distorted blur, he didn't see Quinn Fabray. He saw a shaggy haired guy and his best friend, maybe five years from now. It was the first concrete picture he had of a future that wasn't constructed for him by his family's legacy and a fear of shame.
"Can I ask you something? Like, kinda personal?" Sam said, breaking his train of thought.
"I guess."
"Okay, this is going to be one of those stupid questions, so, are you like-are you gay now? Like, a gay guy?"
"You could ask me pretty much anything right now, and you want to know if I'm gay?"
Sam gave him a sheepish grin. "Might as well get it all out at once, right?"
He just shook his head and shoved him with his shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe? I did like you and Finn. A lot of those feelings were real. But I don't know if I even have the energy to figure that out too. Why? Worried I might try to date you again?"
"No, jeez! I was just, y'know, wondering. Just trying to be a friend, Quinn."
Sam pushed off him and stood. "Is there anything to eat in your house that isn't, like, salad? That was so emotionally draining, I'm starving."
There wasn't, so they went to the local diner and ordered bacon cheeseburgers, and after, spent the rest of the night driving around, Sam asking dumb questions he couldn't figure out through google and making fun of his mall rat gothic look, and him feeling surprisingly okay answering them and hitting him in the shoulder.
He picked up Sam from Mike's early Sunday morning to drive him back to the bus station. Sam fiddled with the radio dial, but couldn't find anything except sermons and bad country music, so he shut it off instead. They were quiet, but it was no longer uncomfortable. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke out the window while Sam glared at him in a playful way.
It was the best he had felt in years
A/N: This is the last chapter I had stockpiled up, so the next one probably won't be posted for another week or so. Thanks again for the reviews and kind words, I truly appreciate it.