Fragments of His Being | ✓

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

From the distance, the commotion on the patio of the Landgrab's bungalow was normal. Charles was known around the neighborhood for being brute with force and quick to anger, so the sight of him talking down to a dark-haired boy was not strange.

Quinn was standing on the top stair in his coat, trying to look past Charles' figure that was blocking the way into the house. It was a little past eight in the evening, and Quinn was starting to worry, seeing as Cody's brother was keen on trying to get him to listen to his rubbish.

"You need to know what he's done," the older boy insisted, blocking Quinn's path again.

Quinn raised his head. "I just need Cody to come out with me. He can tell me himself," he said, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket to try to keep them warm. The weather was oddly cold that night, and Quinn wasn't appreciating the fact that he was standing out.

"I already told you, he's not going anywhere," Charles said, frowning as his grip on the two corners of the entrance tightened. He was using his whole body to block the path.

Quinn sighed as he looked down at the ground. His eyes were tired, and he was feeling less comfortable out in the cold.

"You don't care to know what he's done? He killed someone," Charles said, moving out of the way so that he was standing out in the cold with Quinn.

Charles closed the door behind him, before resting on it. "I just wanted to warn you. He's a walking curse. You don't need him," he said.

Charles was a bit worried by the confusion in Quinn's face. The boy didn't look shocked, just irritated. "Of course, he grew up to be a fag too. You're a good-looking lad why are you entertaining him? Does he do weird stuff to make up for being a dude?" Charles was saying whatever now—anything to make Cody lose his shot at happiness.

Quinn sighed, rolling his eyes. "Look, I don't care—"

"He killed our father," Charles injected, cutting him off.

Quinn groaned, shaking his head. "You're just making up stuff now, aren't you?" Cody was so small and prone to hurting himself. He couldn't even kill a rat.

Quinn felt exhausted. He had been bummed when his father had been a little cold and distant before warming up to him over the course of a few months, but Cody had it worse. Way wore than he could ever imagine. He couldn't believe that he had endured people that hated his very being for so long.

Cody deserved better.

"I'm not making stuff up," Charles insisted, pulling Quinn out of his thoughts. The young man's voice came out croaked. His voice was shaking. Quinn raised a brow when he noticed a shimmer in the young man's eyes.

"Are you—" Quinn paused, narrowing his eyes at Charles. "Are you crying?" he asked in a soft voice, both taken aback and worried.

The sight of the young man in front of him breaking down into tears threw Quinn off. He wasn't sure what to do so he just stood there, watching as Charles rubbed at his eyes with the base of his palms.

"He killed my father, and he gets to be happy." A dark look pooled in Charles' eyes. "Fuck, I hate his guts."

Quinn frowned. "Hey—"

"It's so unfair!" The young man said, cutting Quinn off before he could finish.

Quinn frowned a bit before his features relaxed. He watched Charles with a sympathetic look. He wasn't sure what to make of what was happening, so he stared at his feet instead.

"If my father hadn't gone to live with his mother and started a relationship with her, he'd still be alive—he wouldn't have been there during the fire. The fact that Cody's survived it is like his mother's ghost mocking my mother—me," the young man said, fighting sniffles as he looked up. A frown was still on his face as he tried to control his tears.

Quinn felt uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what to say to any of Charles' rambling, but at least he had a better picture of what was going on.

"I don't know what you're going through, but you can't possibly blame a kid for a fire that he didn't start?" Quinn said, and Charles didn't say anything to him.

"Hey, I know you lost your dad, and you're super sad about it..." Quinn trailed. "But he's Cody's dad too, you know?"

Charles remained silent, but Quinn kept talking. "How do you think Cody feels when you say stuff like he killed his own dad?" There was still no answer from Charles. "Your father did a bad thing. He married your mum and cheated on her and got another woman pregnant. his decision to chase the woman he got pregnant years later has nothing to do with Cody," Quinn continued.

"Your father died. I'm sure you're both sad, and looking for someone to blame it on help you cope, but how long are you going to grieve like this?" Quinn felt a little odd—a bit like his mother when she was giving him a lecture on life.

There was a pause where Charles was silent. A minute passed, and the young man spoke up. "He's in the bathroom."

Quinn looked up at Charles. "What?" He hadn't expected the young man to say anything.

"Cody. Cody's in the bathroom. I locked him up there, you should be able to find the key in the lock," Charles said, moving away from the front door. "Come on, go in before I change my mind," Charles said when Quinn didn't move an inch.

The dark-haired boy looked from Charles to the door before heading towards it. He reached out and turned the knob, and the door clicked open.

He smiled, relieved that it wasn't a prank before turning his head to face Cody. "Thank you," he said. He wasn't sure what had come over Cody's brother to get him to allow him in, but he was grateful.

Charles gritted his teeth, looking away from Quinn. "Go get him before I change my mind," he said, and Quinn did as he was told. He slipped into the living room and made a beeline to the hallway, searching for the bathroom door.