Epilogue - Quinn

SPRING

"You two really didn't have to help me move, but damn I appreciate it," Weston said to Hunter and Jon as they pulled down and latched the rear door on the U-Haul that sat outside of Weston's apartment building. He had four more days left on his lease, and the time he'd spent in this studio had come to a close. Quinn thought he was sadder about leaving it behind than Weston was, and it was his apartment.

"There is no way we would have let you do it alone," Jon said, despite the fact that he had moved in to Hunter's side of the house without asking a single one of them for help just the month before. Jon wiped sweat from his forehead. It was a beautiful spring day in April, but moving worked up a sweat regardless of the weather.

"It was fun," Hunter added. He was being polite. Quinn couldn't wait for the day Hunter felt comfortable enough around Weston to drop his knee-jerk kindness and complain about something around him. "I've had so much help moving over the years that I feel like I just owe the universe."

"And I'm the one with the pickup, so I know I'm automatically volunteered." The four of them had driven Jon's truck up to Duluth and rented a trailer. After Weston sold his bed and his futon, there wasn't much left. His desk. His kitchen supplies. His clothes. He had most of his electronics in Minneapolis already, and he and Quinn had been slowly moving things down with them each time they visited.

"Well, it's appreciated. I'm excited to officially be a duplexer." Weston's cheeks were pink from exertion, and he bounced on his toes. He was so fucking cute. And he was officially moving in to Quinn's house.

Since Weston became a permanent fixture several months previous, the two of them had turned Quinn's kitchen (their kitchen, now) into a gluten-free zone. Weston said it wasn't necessary, but if Quinn was asking Weston to move in to his house, he was going to make it a place that was safe for Weston.

"We have one more load, if you guys could wait here," Quinn said, and he and Weston headed back inside for one last look at the place.

There was one box left on the counter with cleaning supplies in it. But while Weston grabbed the box and looked like he was going to leave without a second glance, Quinn wanted to pause.

"Set the box down for a sec," he said. Weston gave him a curious look but did as Quinn asked. Quinn pulled Weston to stand right in front of him, his arms wrapping around Weston easily and securely. "This is where we first met."

Weston let Quinn take some of his weight as he leaned against him. "You never borrowed that mic."

"I didn't give a shit about the mic. I was already in deep for you, and I hadn't realized it."

"And now I have to forward my mail to your house."

"Our house. And it all started here." There were marks on the paint from the sticky hooks Quinn had put twinkle lights up with, and the whole place smelled like cleaning spray. It bore little resemblance to the space that Weston made for himself here. It had been cozy, like a hug. Like a nest. A reprieve. "This was where I found my happiness again. And my love."

"It always shocks me to realize that you actually like me."

"I love you." He kissed Weston's temple.

"I didn't think I would ever find someone I wouldn't have to compromise myself for. And here you are."

"Thank you for indulging my sappy emotions," Quinn said, pulling Weston farther into the apartment. "If I can have one more, this is where we kissed for the first time."

Weston gave him an indulgent look and the kiss he was clearly asking for.

Quinn pulled him over to the streaming corner, which looked offensively bare now. "We kissed over here too." Weston gave him another kiss. "And over here was the first place we had sex?—"

"We are not having sex in my empty apartment while your brother and Hunter twiddle their thumbs."

"They can do it in the car while they wait."

"Baby," Weston said, trying to speed up the inevitable.

"Fine. This place was special to me, though. It was a part of you."

"And now all of me is moving in to your house, so there's no need to grieve it."

"Just one more photo."

"Alright," Weston said, following Quinn to the entry. Quinn took a selfie of the two of them with as much of the empty apartment behind them as possible. "If I admit I'm grateful you took that photo, can we get going?"

"Yeah, yeah. Goodbye, little studio apartment where I fell for this man," Quinn said wistfully. He swiped the box of cleaning supplies off the kitchen counter and followed Weston out. Weston flipped the lights off and locked the door behind him and slid his keys under the door like the property manager requested.

"Let's go home," Weston said, which was music to Quinn's ears. The four of them together under one roof.