[ He feels it, the floodgates, the torrent of emotion he's constantly battling. Alice is gone, and she's gone on the worst terms imaginable, and Quentin's not even that drunk but he wants to be, he wants Eliot's knack for swallowing a few pills and not worrying about a damn thing. He's envious. Quentin will never have that, and he wipes down at his face, groaning. Mostly at himself, but he'd be lying if it wasn't to keep it all in. ]
No--Eliot, wait.
[ It's weird, saying something you only knew about yourself a few seconds ago. Quentin, the quiet guy, the loner, the one perfectly content to be in the corner with a book. He looks at Eliot and it's pleading, eyes glassy. ]
no subject
No--Eliot, wait.
[ It's weird, saying something you only knew about yourself a few seconds ago. Quentin, the quiet guy, the loner, the one perfectly content to be in the corner with a book. He looks at Eliot and it's pleading, eyes glassy. ]
I don't want to be alone.