Chapter Five

Despite his exhaustion, Quentin couldn't sleep. The afternoon sun poured through the French doors, casting a glow across Snow's white hair. His curls shimmered. Quentin gently rubbed a lock between his fingers, savoring a moment of complete peace. Snow serenely slept on his stomach next to Quentin. Quentin couldn't stop studying his face. He had the sharpest lines but the fullest lips. In all his days, Quentin had never seen a more beautiful man.

It was possible that was his heart talking, but Quentin didn't think so. The scars Snow so vehemently hated were on display. Quentin's heart ached each time he saw them. His baby had suffered so horribly. Yet Snow had become the gentlest of men in the face of such ugliness. Quentin wasn't dumb, nor was he blind. He knew Snow was still deadly. He knew Snow had killed people and done terrible things. But Quentin also knew Snow had only done what he needed to survive. If Quentin was honest with himself, there was no low too low for him when it came to Snow. He could afford to have someone killed, and he would if it meant keeping Snow safe.

"Dr. Christie is here."

The whispered words from the doorway pulled Quentin back to reality. He gave Adam a thumbs-up, letting him know he had heard. After another moment of simply watching Snow, Quentin slipped from the bed and found a pair of pajama pants. His visit with the doctor wouldn't take long. They just needed more blood for a slew of more testing. Quentin already knew his life would be like this for a while.

After one last check to ensure Snow still slept peacefully, Quentin slipped silently from the room. He found the doctor waiting for him in the sitting room.

"David."

David glanced up from his phone. His gaze moved over Quentin's bare torso. "You've been resting. Good."

Quentin forced his smile to stay bland when he really wanted to beam like an idiot. He wouldn't call what he had been doing resting, but he still felt rejuvenated. "I know you have a busy schedule, so I guess we should get to it."

David nodded and motioned for Quentin to sit. He dug through his bag. An IV line and too many tubes for any one person appeared. Quentin sat back and watched as David found a vein and started the line.

"This is easier when you need this much blood."

Quentin dipped his chin. He remembered. "Do we know yet when chemo will start?"

David kept his gaze on his task as he answered. "We'll start with CAR T therapy first. The process will take about four to five hours to harvest the T cells needed. Then it'll take a few weeks in the lab for the treatment to be ready. Afterward, we'll go from there." David finally met his stare. "There's been a lot of advancements in science since the last time you fought this. The road will be rough, but I know you're a fighter."

He was tired. The last battle had stolen his ability to walk. What would he lose this time? Quentin wanted to be whole for Snow. He craved a normal life with the man he loved. Snow deserved that.

David dropped the tubes of blood in a plastic bag and sealed it before disconnecting Quentin's line. One taped-down cotton ball later, they were saying their goodbyes. The second Quentin closed the door behind David, his shoulders fell. Part of him wanted to immediately return to Snow. Quentin needed some space first. His mental health was taking some hits. Quentin didn't want to set that at Snow's feet.

He headed for the kitchen. Quentin found Pink at the table, eating a sandwich obviously made by John. Pink flashed him a smile when he spotted him.

"Hey." His gaze moved over Quentin's torso. "That looks like it hurts."

Quentin didn't need to glance down. He knew nearly every inch of him was black. "It doesn't. How are you settling in?" He joined Pink at the table.

"Fine, so far. I usually sleep during the day."

"That's what Snow said. I didn't really get much of a chance to talk to you when you got here." He cleared his throat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "This is an awkward conversation I never know how to start, but it's one I have with everyone when they get here. You never have to talk about your past, okay? No one judges here. Everyone here has fought a battle. But if you need someone to talk to professionally, I'm more than willing to help with that. Everyone here has a therapist, including me. Like I said, no one will judge." He honestly hated this introductory speech. It was a necessary evil. These men didn't come from backgrounds that could be ignored.

Thankfully, Pink didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. "I appreciate that, but I already have someone." He set his sandwich aside and wiped his fingers on a napkin. His gaze avoided Quentin's as he pushed his plate away. "Shortly after Snow rescued me, I had a bit of a mental break. I don't have insurance and the institution required a lot of money upfront to even admit me." He met Quentin's stare. "Snow wiped out his life savings to get me the help I needed. When I got out, we found a job together. Since neither of us have much of an identity, not one that would hold up under scrutiny anyhow, we could only get positions at Bare Studs. Obviously, that place doesn't care who you are. No one uses their real name there. It's taken both of us, but we've managed to keep an apartment and continue paying for therapy."

Quentin's chest hurt. "You don't have to do that now. There's no need to struggle. I'll pay for the therapy. You can also work for me. It's not necessary for you to go back to the club."

A sweet smile touched Pink's lips. "I appreciate that. For Snow's sake, I'll take you up on the therapy. That's also why I agreed to come here. I have to set him free of taking care of me so he can focus on taking care of you. But I can't leave Bare Studs. As shady as the place seems, they gave us jobs and an apartment. They loaned us money when the savings ran out. With Snow leaving, they'll be shorthanded. He runs everything there. I can't abandon them."

Pink straightened his shoulders. "With all that said, I promise I'll get out of your hair as quickly as possible, and I will pay you back for the therapy. You don't have to worry about me mooching off you. That's not who I am." He chewed his bottom lip for a second, as if a worrisome thought hit. "Of course, I'll have to pay back Snow first. I'm not sure how long that'll take." He looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Quentin set his hand on Pink's forearm. It was a risk. He knew how triggered some men he saved were by unwanted touch.

Pink's gaze locked on him.

Quentin kept his voice soothing. "Stop. You don't owe anyone anything. I have more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes. It's useless if I can't use it to help people, especially when those people are the ones saving me. You don't see it yet, but you are. Being here is payback enough. I don't have anyone else."

Pink's shoulders relaxed. His dark green eyes looked way too trusting for what he had suffered. He looked incredibly young and vulnerable. Quentin's heart squeezed.

"How old are you, Pink?"

Pink swallowed.

Dread rose in Quentin's gut.

"You can't tell."

Fuck. "I won't."

"I turn eighteen next week."

Quentin thought he might be sick. "Does Snow know?"

Pink shook his head. "I told him I'm twenty. He never would've let me work in the club if I was honest. I need that job. We would've been homeless without it."

"You know you shouldn't go back, right? At least not until next week. That doesn't have to be your life. I want to help."

A wry smile twisted Pink's lips, making him look a decade older. "I don't know how to do anything else. At least the men aren't allowed to touch me there. That's oddly empowering and not something I'd expect you to understand."

Even though it broke Quentin's heart, he knew—at the end of the day—he had zero say so in Pink's life. "At least let me send you with a guard. At least until you're eighteen. For my peace of mind," he added. Pink laughed. He didn't know if that was an answer since Pink changed the subject.

"Snow has told me so much about you. It feels like I know you already. We spent countless nights talking about your life together. You're every bit as amazing as he described. He loves you more than life." Pink's expression underwent a series of changes. When he landed on guilty, Quentin knew he would learn something else he had to keep to himself. "It's because of you I'm safe. I know Snow killed all those people to save you, but you have no idea the hell that move spared me. I'm about to be eighteen. That's likely when they would've killed me."

Quentin barely heard a word past the loud thump of his pulse in his ears. Who had Snow killed to save him? When Snow had said he rescued Pink, Quentin hadn't considered how. His mind had been a little busy with other things. "What do you mean, Snow killed those people?"

Pink's expression shifted. His gaze slid away. "Oh, no." He stood and grabbed his plate, obviously intent on running for the hills without answering.

"I won't say anything. It'll stay between us."

Pink chewed his bottom lip. He looked defeated. "I thought you knew. I don't want you to look at him differently," Pink whispered, as if he couldn't bring himself to confess a thing any louder.

Quentin didn't need to think. "That's not possible. As much as Snow loves me, I love him every bit as much. At the end of the day, I don't think there's anything he could do to make me stop."

Pink nodded. He reclaimed his seat. "I was kept at an academy in Greece. The same one where you bought Snow. The way you offered therapy, I thought you knew that about me."

"Snow told me you were a pet, but that's all he said."

Pink flinched at the term but didn't back down. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't kept in a cage like the other boys. My place was with the leaders."

Leaders. Plural. Quentin's stomach churned.

"After they threatened you, Snow just appeared one day like a wraith. They were dead before any of them saw it coming. All of them. He was like smoke. I was there and even I can't explain what I saw. He was so silent and fast. It was terrifying. But then we were all free. Two other men showed up to help us. They took the boys to various safe houses. Since I lied about my age, they let me simply go on my own. I spent a couple of weeks homeless before Snow found me. He came back to make sure the academy stayed closed. I hadn't wandered far since I didn't know where to go." Pink shrugged. "He saved me. I didn't trust it at first. But he's good. His heart is good."

Quentin's spine had melded to the chair. He couldn't move. Too many thoughts kept him frozen. After their household had been threatened, Charon had gone to Greece. He had come back, saying the matter had been handled, but Quentin hadn't dreamed it had been by Snow's hand. It wasn't what Snow had done that ate at him. It was what that act would do to Snow's mental health. Quentin was likely the only person who knew what those days as an instructor had done to him. The way they haunted him.

His gaze found Pink's. "Thank you for telling me. I won't say anything." But information was power, and Quentin needed to be prepared for a possible break. Snow hadn't suffered one in years, but that didn't mean anything now. No one punished Snow harder than Snow. Now Quentin knew it might happen.

Nightmares plagued him. Even though Snow knew he dreamed, he couldn't grasp the wisps to understand what he saw. Only a deep sense of unease and self-hatred stuck with him. He couldn't wake up long enough to shake the feeling.

Warm lips touched his spine, stealing away the despair. Those lips he knew and fantasized about nonstop moved down his back. Chill bumps rose on his skin. His breathing quickened. The kisses moved higher again until they found his neck. A low moan escaped Snow without his consent. Quentin chuckled against his skin.

"You'll never sleep tonight if you keep napping."

He wasn't a dream. Quentin was really there. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how little he had slept in the last few months. Snow rolled, snagged Quentin's waist and rolled back again, pinning Quentin beneath him. Laughter filled the air. Snow hid a smile against Quentin's shoulder at the sound.

"We're resting together."

Quentin huffed. "It's dinnertime."

Snow blinked. He lifted his head and eyed the clock. "Damn. I really did sleep all day."

He looked down at Quentin. His white t-shirt and red checked pajama pants proved he had left Snow at some point. "What've you been doing? You could've woken me sooner."

"David came by to do a blood draw. There was no reason to bother you."

Snow settled onto his side. He stroked Quentin's stomach. "It's not bothering me. I'm supposed to be supporting you."

Quentin's gaze moved over Snow's face, as if searching for something. "That's all you do is take care of other people. I want you to rest." Before Snow could respond, Quentin continued. "On that note, I'd like to establish an account for Pink. We can't have him out here struggling. I also transferred money to your account. I'm sorry I hadn't noticed it was empty."

Snow didn't know how to vocalize his feelings over that one. He was pissed. Had questions. Wished Quentin wouldn't do things like that. "It's not your job to support me. I would appreciate it if you moved the money back to your account."

"No."

"That's it? Just no?"

"Yeah." Quentin flashed him a meek smile. "It's my money. I'll do what I want."

The problem was, he couldn't really argue with that. "I won't spend it." Until he had caved to pay for Pink's therapy, Snow had never really spent the money he made from Quentin. That was why everything he owned fit in two bags.

Quentin shrugged. "I'll have to spoil you, then."

Snow groaned.

Quentin laughed. "Seriously, though. You wiped out your account to help Pink. All I did was pay you back. You need some new clothes."

Snow froze. "What else did Pink tell you?"

Quentin made a dismissive gesture. "You two didn't have identities that would hold. That's how you ended up at the club. The two of you helped each other survive and you've been working nonstop to keep him fed and in therapy. You two have me now. No more struggling."

"Let's go to dinner." Snow couldn't keep having this conversation. He would rather face the family firing squad.

Quentin blew out a sigh. "Okay."

Snow rolled from the bed and pulled Quentin to his feet. Together, they headed for the dining room. He heard the clanging of dishes and loud chatter before they stepped inside. The long table with enough seating for sixteen was completely full except for the two seats at the head of the table, with two plates waiting. The room fell silent the moment they were spotted. Snow held the chair out for Quentin before taking a seat at his side. No one spoke. Snow felt the eyes on him.

He couldn't pretend nothing had happened. His gaze moved from face to face. Men from forty to twenty sat around the table. Each one had suffered a different but similar past as he had. Every one of them had been saved by Quentin. They deserved better from him.

"I'm sorry."

Quentin squeezed his leg, as if lending his silent support.

Snow didn't stop at an apology. "You've always had a reasonable expectation of safety under this roof, and I broke that trust. All I can do is apologize and try to prove myself. I would never let anything happen to any of you."

He wished Pink hadn't left for work already. Then he would have had at least one more person on his side. No one looked convinced. That was fair. Snow didn't feel guilty. He hated what he had done to Quentin, but he would always choose Quentin's safety first. All he felt for the other men at the table was an obligation for Quentin's sake. An unfortunate side effect of being forced into the role of an academy instructor was a general loss of emotional connection. He loved Quentin, and he had grown to love Pink in a fatherly sort of way. He cared a great deal about Paine, since his broken state spoke to Snow on a deeper level. Snow cared that Adam meant a lot to Quentin. Otherwise, people meant very little to him. He was apathetic to their existence. To be fair, he was equally indifferent to his own life.

"Please continue eating," Quentin said, sounding like a loving parent. That was how everyone saw him, except Snow and possibly Adam. Quentin gave them the love they had never had before him. Every person at the table would kill to keep him safe. For that, Snow cared what happened to them. His therapist claimed Snow had a disconnect from human connection. It was a self-defense mechanism, helping him cope with the massive trauma. He couldn't see most people as people just like him. Otherwise, he might end up institutionalized from the things he had done and had done to him. So Snow didn't work especially hard to fix himself. He didn't have time or the luxury of a mental breakdown.

Quentin squeezed his leg again.

Snow blinked, realizing he had mentally checked out.

"Switch plates with me. My appetite is shit these days, and yours has less food."

Snow swapped plates. He knew what Quentin did. The move had nothing to do with his appetite. Their plates had been unattended in a room filled with men who despised him. Snow had no intention of eating food that might have been tampered with. Only when no one jumped to stop Quentin from eating from Snow's plate did Snow lift his fork. Even though everything felt awkward as hell, he pushed on for Quentin's sake. They would get through this.

It was by far the most uncomfortable meal they had endured since Quentin brought Snow to live with him. In the beginning, no one had trusted him. As an instructor, he had hurt people like them. Quentin understood, but he didn't choose who he saved at random. He had seen something in each of them. Sometimes, they were brought to him as children from another victim who spent his life rescuing the ones who didn't make the cut. Either way, they had a spark of humanity the academy hadn't killed. Snow had been no different. Quentin wouldn't judge the sins of literal children who had been sold into hell. They had survived during an untenable situation. That was all that mattered to him. They had lived.

"Well, that was horrible."

A laugh burst from Quentin at Snow's observation. "Well, it's over. So there's that."

Snow nodded. He still looked defeated. Quentin realized he had put Snow in a horrible and uncomfortable position by asking him to come home. It was a terrible feeling being unwelcome. He had to make it better somehow.

"Can we go out? I'm tired of staring at these walls. I've spent too many years feeling trapped by them."

Snow didn't hesitate. He stood. "Of course. Just name the place and we'll go."

Quentin pushed to his feet. He had a plan. "Let's go shopping."

"Should we take your wheelchair?"

Quentin hesitated. He hated the idea, but he had a lot he wanted to buy. That meant a lot of time walking. He bit back a sigh. "Probably."

His answer had Snow eyeing him. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough for this?"

"Absolutely." He planned to drown Snow in gifts, since he refused to spend money. An evil chuckle rose in Quentin's throat, forcing him to swallow it. Snow had spent years caring for him, only to move on to caring for Pink. No one had ever focused solely on him and his needs. Quentin would. If he wasn't long for this world, Quentin planned to spend his last days pouring everything he had into the one person he loved the most. Money was all he had to give now. He wanted Snow to remember him fondly.