Page 42 of Psychopath

“Why?” Quinn asked. His voice cracked with the word.

“You were distant.”

“My dad was dying.”

Damon closed his eyes. “I know.”

“And you carried on…texting, sending videos and pictures or whatever. Why arrange to meet him?”

Damon shrugged. “You got distant again. It felt like you didn’t want me.”

“I was trying to get this study approved. You know how hard it was.”

“Everything became about the study.”

Quinn turned away. “That’s not fair.”

“We used to be fun, Quinn. We used to go out partying every weekend.”

“We were at university.” Quinn shook his head. “We’re not now.”

“And don’t I know it,” Damon snapped. He glanced around the room. “This…is not where I thought I’d end up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this place.”

“We’re living in a rickety old house in a shitty little village where the neighbours get excited over scarecrow festivals, and you’re considering renting an allotment.” Damon shuddered. “We’re twenty-three. I thought we’d have this set up when we were in our forties, not now when we’re young. I don’t want…this.”

“Why not tell me that?”

“I’m telling you now.” Damon shifted closer. “We can start again. The holiday to Portugal, it showed me we can be good again. It felt like us again. If we move to the city, get jobs, go out every weekend… We can have fun again.”

Quinn shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t want that.”

“You want your rickety house in your shitty village, where all you ever talk about is that godawful study.”

“If you hated being with me so much, then why not leave me?”

“I love you, Quinn.” Damon looked at him like it was obvious. “I love clubbing, drinking, affectionate, fun-time Quinn, and I always hoped he’d come back to me, but he’s changed into a dull, lifeless version of himself.”

“Thanks.”

Damon shrugged. “It’s true.”

“We’re not students anymore.”

“And we’re not grandads who buy allotments and stay in on the weekends. Now…I’m willing to try again, but you’ve got to meet me halfway.”

“How has this turned around on me?”

“There’s been fault on both sides,” Damon said. “I cheated, but that wouldn’t have happened if things were good between us, and that’s on both of us, on me for looking elsewhere and on you for changing, growing distant. The whole time I was staying at Eric’s, I was thinking about the good times, the university times. The fun, the thrill, that’s what I want.”

“The whole time you were away, I was thinking about the future…us growing old together, but we’re not…we’re not compatible. Not anymore.”

“Not right now,” Damon said. “But we can change that.”

He got to his feet. “Come on, Quinn. No twenty-three-year-old wants this.” He looked around the living room again, glancing at the full bookcase. He smirked and kicked the Scrabble box he knew was under the coffee table. “It’s boring.” He shuddered. “This house is stifling.”

“I find it cosy. It’s a home. My home.” Quinn swallowed the lump in his throat and backed out of the room. “I think you should take your things now.”

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