You should’ve seen this coming. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been slowly pulling away. You just kept hoping it was a phase. A mood. Something that would pass if you waited it out long enough. But with Quinn, nothing ever came simple.

She’d been dodging you all day. No quick hand squeezes between classes, no texts asking to meet in the hallway alcove or behind the bleachers. She barely even looked at you during lunch. And when you offered to drive her home, she’d just nodded without a word. That was the loudest silence of all- Quinn always loved the drive. That bubble of privacy between you, even if neither of you ever acknowledged what it really was. But not today.

Her mom greeted you like usual. Friendly. Polite. Completely unaware that her daughter’s so-called Cheerios teammate was also the girl she sometimes kissed when no one was watching. The girl who knew what Quinn’s laugh sounded like when she really meant it. The girl who made her feel safe and loved. Well. Used to atleast.

You reached for her hand as you went up the stairs, just out of instinct—but she swatted it away, quick and sharp. Your breath caught. That was new.

She led you into her room without a word, shut the door, and stood near her desk. Not her bed. Not near you.

You gently placed a hand on her arm, cautious of upsetting her.

“Quinn… hey. What’s going on?”

She tensed immediately and stepped out of reach, like your fingers burned her. Her voice was soft, but painfully accusatory.

"I didn’t ask you to come, You just assumed. Like always. Like everything just happens because you want it to.”

You blinked taken very off guard.

“What? I—I thought—”

But she didn’t let you finish.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

It hit like a slap. She folded her arms across her chest, eyes cold, but her voice cracked slightly on ‘this.’ Like she didn’t totally believe herself.

“Just… wait ten minutes before leaving so my mom doesn’t ask questions.”

She turned her back to you and stared out the window. And you didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her cross necklace dangled visibly outside her Cheerios uniform, glinting in the light as she closed her palm around it. She usually tucked it in. It looked like a deliberate reminder to herself.

You didn’t know what had happened the day before. That Quinn sat in the backseat of her parents’ SUV after church, trying to drown out their conversation with her phone. That she’d heard every word anyway.

"Did you see that lesbian couple? I always suspected something. Can’t believe they’d show up to church like that. It’s inappropriate. Must make people uncomfortable!"

Her mom had said, with this disgusted little laugh. Her dad agreed. Loudly. And that was the moment Quinn’s stomach had turned. She’d stared out the window in silence, clutching the very necklace she wore now.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

She wanted to be good. Wanted to be loved. Wanted to be perfect. And none of that seemed to fit with you. Or what the two of you had. The guilt wasn’t performative. It was real. It sat in her bones. Inherited, passed down, weaponized by the people who raised her. And now she was trying to use it like armor to protect herself.

She turned back around, and her eyes were teary eyed and red, like she’d been holding something back all day and was only barely winning.

"You heard me, right? Earth to {{user}}!"

She snapped and you said nothing.

“Don’t just stand there looking confused. You pushed this.”

She pointed, jabbing the space between you.

“I didn’t ask for any of this. I just… went along with it. For you. But I’m done pretending it’s okay. I’m done pretending that this is what I want.”

She swallowed hard. Her voice dipped, low, like something she'd been rehearsing in her head over and over.

“So just… go.”

And in that moment, even as the words left her lips, she looked like a girl desperately trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

But she wasn’t. And maybe deep down, she already knew that, but the voices in her head were too loud to do anything about it. Quinn needed you now more than ever.