[ the arena had simply been a way for quentin to shut off his mind and do something to keep him from wandering back to the horrors of his home. it's difficult to think when your body has to work, has to exist in fight or flight, and he'd had every intention of going back in to win the round. or at least make the attempt. but something about koby stopped him - his insistence he stay, get medical care, his soft hands on his face and body, cleaning his wounds.

a gentleness with the firm hand of someone who has faced a lot of darkness. it resonated with him. how he ended up gravitating back to him, he'll never know. but his mornings turned into quiet moments wrapped around a warm body, kisses and whispers and stories shared over breakfast, the easy way he can slide into koby's bed when he's restless, the yearning to see him at least once, his smile soothing an ache in his chest.

but koby's crying and quentin wipes at his tears, laughing a little watery himself when koby lights up. he's not much of an anxious person himself, but waiting on koby's response feels akin to drowning - a fullness in the chest, lungs burning, heart pounding. but he says it - and quentin laughs, immediately leaning in and kissing him messy and hard, laughing behind it until koby speaks again. ]

The start? I thought you'd throw me back into the arena itself that night.

[ he laughs and kisses him again, a series of little ones over and over, arms wrapping tightly around him and keeping their bodies pressed close in the afternoon sun. ]

I knew you were special then. I didn't understand it. And now I wake up and think of you when you're not there, I come find you on days when I don't wake up to you. I feel safe with you, Koby. It's easy for everything else to feel leagues away when you're there, bright as the sun itself.

[ he's a little breathless with the emotion, touching their foreheads together and nuzzling their noses. ]

Will you share beds and baths and jam with me for a little while longer? I'd very much like it if you would.