Page 67 of Garbage

Evan

Evan paced his apartment. Window. Kitchen. Around the table. Door. Couch. Window.

Everywhere he looked there were traces of Quincy. The plant on the windowsill. The makeup lined up along the table, where Quincy had last recorded a video. The pots and pans that Evan had owned for years, which now raised so many memories of Quincy happily buzzing around the kitchen.

Evan had done so many things wrong.

He thought he’d fully appreciated every moment with Quincy, but he knew now he could have done so much more.

He could have claimed Quincy when he had him. Even if it wasn’t forever, he could have made Quincy his boyfriend. He could have told him everything he was feeling.

He swung back around to the window.

The kitchen, where he’d set out everything for a celebratory mug of hot chocolate that he still hadn’t made. The table. The door. The couch, where Quincy liked to snuggle up under the soft blue blanket that was still tangled there.

Evan had slept in his own bed for his first two nights home, still nursing his concussion and bruised kidney. He’d maybe downplayed to Quincy how sick he’d been.

Once he’d started to feel better, though, he’d started sleeping on the couch. It seemed like he was closer to Quincy out there.

Now the headaches had faded and Evan was peeing normally. The bruises that littered his body had faded to a dull grayish-yellow. He was healthy enough, apparently, to be pacing the apartment.

What the hell was taking so long?

Quincy’s trial had already gone on for three days. Justice had predicted that it would be over this morning, though. They were just supposed to be wrapping things up.

They had assured Evan that neither he nor Quincy needed to be present in person since they had their testimonies and recorded interviews. It was the way a lot of cases were handled now when cross-examination might revictimize the participants.

So at least there was that acknowledgement of the harm that had been done to Quincy.

Still, there was the chance Evan might be pulled in if there was a problem. It sure seemed, from Evan’s perspective, like a three-day case that was supposed to be resolved within hours, was a problem.

The worst part was that for all three days, Evan hadn’t been allowed to visit Quincy. He hadn’t seen much of Ben, either, what with their different schedules and Evan being well enough to take care of himself.

So, Evan paced.

He’d been strictly told by Ben not to turn on the news. Apparently there was some sort of Human Firster protest going on outside the courthouse. Evan knew to expect it—it happened every time a spark killed a human, even though it was almost inevitably in self-defense—but it was different when it was Quincy that they hated so much.

Evan imagined that there was probably a counter-protest, but he didn’t want to see Quincy’s face on anyone’s protest signs.

He just wanted Quincy to come home.

It would have been easier if Ben were here with him. But Ben had been increasingly cagey and unavailable over the past week. He laughed it off with jokes about the little “pranks” he’d played with Maxamillion, but he’d quite visibly broken several laws.

There was a very good chance that Ben could be facing prison time, too. Or at the very least, lose his job.

But right now, Ben was still free—albeit frequently absent—and Evan could only worry about one thing at a time.

Like what was taking so long?

Evan checked his texts, just in case he’d missed something, but there was nothing. Ben had even given him a direct line to Maxamillion—which was weird, because Maxamillion was a non-sentient, corporate, mainframe computer—and Evan had received a few useful automated alerts from it earlier in the day.

Not that Ben was at the courthouse either. He had no idea how Ben was getting the information, and he truly didn’t want to know. He just wanted an update, every three seconds if possible.

Come on… Please tell me what’s going on.

When the phone buzzed in his hand, he was so startled he nearly dropped it. As soon as he recovered, he thumbed over to Ben’s message.

He’s out! Headed your way.