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[color=8dc73f]LOCATION[/color] — [color=8dc73f]QUINN'S ROOM -
BALCONY[/color]
[color=8dc73f]INTERACTING WITH[/color] — COLE SEARA - [@Dirty Pretty Lies][hr]

[i]Crashing.[/i]
If there was anything in this world that Quinn knew, it was the feeling of a crash. It was the feeling of burning right before the fall, the ups and the downs of truly enjoying something. 

Cole had been a high, one that he hadn't bargained for but one that he'd experienced nonetheless. He hadn't expected everything that came with that one night, she had been a conquest. She had been something to win, something he’d wanted because nobody else had her and that was the first error. Maybe he’d been hungover and stupid that next day, his head had been aching and the world had been bleary but he couldn't stop thinking about her. 

He couldn't focus, he couldn't stop wondering what would happen if he saw her again. She had been something out of a dream to his drunken mind, her dark hair framing a face that he couldn't stop thinking of and how they'd [i]connected.[/i] Like puzzle pieces, like missing a part of himself that he hadn't even been aware of. He couldn't forget her, he didn't even [i]try.[/i]

[i]Fixation.[/i]
That was the problem with Quinn, he fixated, he became obsessed with things. One night always became three more, one cigarette became an addiction and suddenly he couldn't stop thinking of excuses to see her. Maybe it was wrong of him to think of her like an addiction, maybe it was wrong to compare her to cigarettes and alcohol, a vice that he couldn't get away from. 

Maybe it was wrong but Quinn knew crashes and he had [i]crashed[/i] hard when she had left. It had been that moment of indecision, that breath where he couldn't bring himself to say “No, don't go” where he had started to feel the crash settling in. It had been that look in her eyes when he didn't ask her to stay, it had been [i]everything.[/i] 

It had been an entire pack of cigarettes smoked in his car while he recklessly drove in circles around the block, it had been a bottle of whiskey drained while he sat on the floor of his apartment and stared at the wall, these had been the symptoms of a crash and Quinn had never regretted anything more.

After she'd left, he'd started craving her, wanting her back. He'd started sending her drunken messages, things where he'd poured his heart out in hopes that she'd see him for the pathetic mess that he was without her, and nothing had worked. After awhile, the messages had stopped coming in so quick, she had stopped seeming to care so much. After awhile, she had a [i]Darien.[/i] The name had left a very bitter taste in his mouth as soon as he had seen it, it had been like eating cigarette ash and it had made him want to vomit. 

He had dated a few other people himself, of course, tried to smother the feelings that he had left to her in anyone that would give him the time of day. It hadn't been successful, it had made him feel worse on more than one occasion. She had done it though, she'd thoroughly replaced him. 
He didn't know how to feel about that. 

Staring at her now with his mouth curved into a smirk, he couldn't decide what he should say to her, he couldn't decide how to say it. He was angry, very deeply angry and he was hurt, very deeply hurt. She was here and she was beautiful and she [i]wasn't here for him.[/i] “[color=8dc73f]I said-[/color]” the boy paused, taking a drag on his cigarette. “[color=8dc73f]I said I'd RSVP, didn't I?[/color]”

His tone remained neutral, impassive, things went easier when he didn't let feelings show through. Things went easier when he didn't show that he cared, they went easier when he didn't show how miserable that this all was making him. “[color=8dc73f]I was invited, wasn't I? I mean, unless that was a joke, in which case,[/color]” a crease in his brow, his smile spreading wider into a grin. “[color=8dc73f]You sure blew a lot of fucking money to get a room for that joke.[/color]”

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