The Blake family had a rule about phones at the dinner table. Their schedules rarely allowed them to eat together, so when they did they promised to be present. Quentin's phone was burning a hole in his pocket. He'd succumbed to temptation and sent an unnecessary, ill-advised text to Em. It had been forty-five minutes, and she still hadn't replied. She didn't have her read receipts on, so he had no way of knowing if she had even seen it.
"Are you alright, Q?" Martin asked.
"I'm fine. Why?"
"You seem a bit restless."
"Oh. Just some work stuff." Martin looked a bit skeptical, but he let it go, thankfully. Quentin couldn't imagine trying to explain this situation to his brothers.
"Hows school going, Ed?"
"Same old, you know? That's boring. I don't want to hear about everyone's work all the time. Don't you guys go out?"
"I went to a bar with some college friends the other day. Is that sufficient?" Martin said.
"Did you meet anyone?"
"...No."
" Then that's boring! Why can't either of you get involved in some drama? There's nothing to gossip about."
"Don't you get enough drama from your strange friends?"
"It's queer, Martin, and you know that."
"I was referring to their personalities."
"Well, they do have their drama, but you guys don't want to hear about it so that doesn't help." Edgar looked at them pointedly.
"Was this whole conversation building up to you telling us about your friend's relationship drama?"
"...Maybe?" Edgar smiled sheepishly, and Martin sighed.
"Fine. Tell us, then." Edgar immediately launched into a long-winded story about whatever nonsense was holding his attention these days.
Quentin loved listening to his younger brother ramble. He loved seeing who his brothers had become once they had left that house. He'd never been very talkative, but he liked to listen.
How would they react if they found out what he'd been up to? They would be supportive, of course. They always were. But then they'd know. He was the guy who every woman wanted. The guy who couldn't be bothered with romance. He was supposed to be attractive and unattainable. He hadn't really wanted those labels, but he'd carried them around for so long that he'd accepted them. He thought it was an inevitability. That he would always be perceived that way.
And then he met a woman who saw something else entirely.
He felt naked every time she looked at him. He was trapped in that moment when the emperor finally realized he wore no clothes. He'd allowed himself to be deceived by every sycophant, all the people who looked at him and saw his facade.
Emilia Day was the first person to make him feel insecure. Being with her was constantly overwhelming. He had to fight the urge to beg for her attention. If he got on his knees for her, tore open his chest and exposed his racing heart, would she feel anything for him? He was always looking for signs, any indication that she was swayed by him. Every time she brushed him off he felt that ache in his heart grow. He knew that it would never change, but he kept going back.
He couldn't stay away from her.
His phone buzzed and he jumped.
"Q?" Edgar and Martin looked at him, concerned.
"I'm fine. Sorry."
"Are you sure?" Martin asked. Quentin nodded. He couldn't not be fine. He didn't have the time.
He should have known that Martin wouldn't let it go. He cornered Quentin in the kitchen after dinner.
"Are you really not going to tell us what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Something is. Edgar can tell and it's stressing him out."
"I'll talk to him."
"He's not a baby, and I'm not a patient anymore. We're your brothers and we want to be there for you. You're shutting us out again."
"I'm not."
"You can't keep treating me like an invalid. I'm supposed to be your older brother."
"You are."
"Then why won't you let me help you. I can't work like I used to or take care of the house but I can still listen. That's the only thing I can do for our family now." Martin choked on the last sentence, and Quentin stilled.
"Don't say that." He stumbled, looking for the words. "You're our brother. You don't need to be anything else for us."
"But I haven't done anything for you two."
"You lived, Martin. You stayed when every doctor said you couldn't. You don't know how much that means to us." Quentin took a deep breath. "You're right. I have been feeling…off lately. I'm just… I don't think I can talk about it yet."
"Will you tell me when you're ready?" Martin asked.
"Of course." He put a hand on Martin's shoulder for a moment. "Sleep well, okay?"
"Of course." Martin replied. Quentin headed towards the bedroom.