Chapter Text
Tank jogged through the downpour and caught their breath under one of the shop awnings. Of course it had to have rained and they didn’t have an umbrella with them. They hadn’t thought to check tonight’s weather. Their mind was more focused on Alexis being weird and trying to avoid doing any more future transactions for William as well as making sure tonight’s customer was actually paying full this time. Last time they had this customer, they said they could pay half a week later, and they never did. Tank and Vincent were sent to go find out where they lived, prompting unfortunate scare tactics that Tank tried to avoid doing again.
Much more important things than the rain, they’d argue.
They observed the street and saw the glow of the tattoo parlor. No one was inside, since it was early Saturday morning, but a light was on for the security cameras.
A pang of guilt sunk into their shoulders as they studied the building. Tank had been thinking of randomly visiting the shop, but after years of not seeing anyone, they weren’t sure if that was a good idea. They assumed that most of them would be angry at them for ditching town; they hadn’t said goodbye. They wished they had, but Tank never felt welcomed in Lavanda. . . It was a small town, and their family was not influential, friendly or easy-going, and they got in trouble too much.
Tank also hated the idea of strangers watching their awkward reunion with old friends, assuming that any of them wanted to ever see them again.
They jumped when a shadow walked out from the alleyway in front of them. The shadow was illuminated by the street lamps. He was relatively lanky and his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. “Hello, Tank.”
They recognized that voice.
“Quinn?” Tank felt an edge creep into their voice. “How did you know I was here?”
“Sources,” He vaguely answered, and leaned onto the nearby brick wall.
“What? You have cameras on me? A tracker?” Tank snapped. What were they supposed to do if he could find them wherever they went?
“Oh no. Not exactly anything like that, my precious.” He chuckled, and played with the necklace around his neck.
“Fuck off, you bastard,” Tank growled, taking a step forward. They wanted to run, but that would show weakness, and they were not going to give that to Quinn.
“Oh how fun,” Quinn smirked. “You still remember your pet name for me. Of course, you only started using that before you left me. . .”
They warily scanned him, and his half-shadowed figure, watching for any sudden movements.
“You do know that this is my area.” Quinn’s voice ran cold from his original teasing warmth. “Why are you traipsing through this block, and at this time of night?”
“I’m passing through,” Tank gritted. “I thought you dealt on the west end?”
“I do. . . But I claimed here now,” Quinn stepped closer to them. “Anyway, did you miss me? Miss my attention, my affection, my love?”
They would never call what Quinn had with them as love. At one point, they liked his attention. In the beginning, his affection and love was nice. Until they started getting involved with his own criminal activities. He had expected more out of them. He berated and hurt them when their results weren’t to his liking. . . And they fought at first, until they couldn’t. And then they left him. Not knowing where to go or who to talk to.
“No. I’m leaving now.” Tank’s eyes hardened. They briskly started their walk to the bus station. If he follows me, I’ll have to take a different route. Tank listened for any gravel shifting under feet besides their own, but Quinn only took a step forward.
“Why do you think I’ve moved over here, Tank?” Quinn loudly called to them. They paused and turned to face him again. He was still relatively in the same spot. They frowned at his loudness on the street. Surely, he was smarter than to yell out his obvious plan to gather more customers for his own criminal business by encroaching around here.
“This whole conversation has been me trying to get you to understand that I came here for you. I want you– and don’t I always get what I want?”
Their heart skipped a beat and their mouth went dry. Quinn could’ve whispered those words and Tank would’ve still heard them. That had to have been wrong. Was he that obsessive?
“I broke up with you– I never wanted to see your stupid fucking face again!” Tank snarled, their heartbeat racing.
Quinn pouted, and took two steps forward. “But why? What did I ever do? I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?”
Tank backed up, and dropped their hand into their pocket, their hand latching on their pocket knife. They flicked the blade up.
“You come around me again, and I’ll make sure you hurt far worse than me dumping your ass,” Tank threatened. Quinn glanced at the knife offensively pointing at him, and raised his hands in the air.
“Then I’ll have to keep a similar promise,” He hummed. Tank’s scowl never left their face.
“Fuck off.” They harshly said again and broke into a run down the street, turning their head back to make sure that Quinn wasn’t following them.
Once reaching the bus stop, they tucked the blade away, but still kept a tight grip on their pocket knife, just waiting for him to show up.
He never did.
One of the late bus’ arrived with a few people. Their leg bounced nervously the whole ride, and a scratchy ache sat at the back of their throat. Yet they kept everything at bay. Last thing Tank needed was to cry in front of strangers.
The apartment door had slammed open and Sam dropped the spoon he was using. He whirled around to see Tank’s disheveled appearance and their immediate path to the bathroom.
They shut the bathroom door behind them before Sam finished removing whatever he had made from the stove. A knock on the door and a “Darlin’?” came from the other side. Their hands shook as they gripped the cold porcelain of the sink.
They let out a shaky sigh. “I’m– I’m okay.” They thickly responded. Tank didn’t want him to worry. It felt like he was always worrying for them.
The shuffling of Sam’s footsteps left the doorway.
Their skin felt gross, and mucky, and wrong. As if their whole being had been tainted by the memories creeping to the front of their skull, reminding them of what once was. What they had with Quinn would be stuck in the deepest part of them forever.
The way his hands would wrap too tightly around them when he saw his victims not bruised or crying enough and the two would have gone somewhere private. He hissed in their ear calling them a pathetic failure every single time, and grabbed at places they didn’t want to be touched. Quinn always said he liked seeing their tears.
Tank sank their nails into their palms. I didn’t want to hurt those people– I didn’t want to be hurt!
They hunched over, knees hitting the tiled floor, rubbing at their pants, arms, face, to get the icky feeling off of them.
A quiet sob broke past their lips, hating the feeling of not feeling like their body was theirs. And that it was never theirs. The only thing it was worth was for everyone else’s pleasure, no matter what caused it.
“It’s not fair!” They wailed, pounding their thighs. Why did they have to feel like this? Why did Quinn have to come back into their life? Their cries grew louder, as their heart wrung out all the grief and fear that had been sitting with them. They scootched closer to the tub and rested their back on it, curling into a smaller position.
A few knocks startled them enough to choke on a sob. Sam knocked again and called their name through the door. Tank somehow got out an answer, and Sam quietly walked into the bathroom. They leaned their face on their knees to hide from him.
“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked, gently sitting down next to them, but not touching them. They shuddered another sob and pressed their nails deeper into their skin.
“Q-Quinn.”
“Can I hold your hand?” Sam offered. Tank shook their head. “That’s okay, Darlin’.” He watched them silently, and all they could do was try to bury deeper to hide from the world. They rubbed harshly at their legs.
“I’m sorry the feeling won’t go away,” Sam quietly soothed, knowing now what they could be feeling due to the topic. “I’m sorry that you feel like this. I’m here for whatever you need.”
Tank loosened their grip on themself to make sure that Sam could hear what they were going to say. “I think he threatened me,” Tank shared, a fresh set of tears falling on their cheeks. “Told him to-to never come around-d again, or I’d fuck him up.”
Sam watched as they wiped their face, lips pursing with concern.
“Said that he’d re-return the favor,” They finished, lip trembling. Sam hummed. They shook their head again. “This is so stupid. I’m so stupid.” They hid their face in their knees again.
“Darlin’. None of this is stupid. What you went through with him was horrible and wrong. You have every right to feel like this.”
“But I haven’t be-been like this for at least a year!” They pathetically retorted. More tears slid down their cheeks, and they heaved out gasps. They couldn’t breathe and felt as if their crying was choking them.
“I know. I know,” Sam worriedly agreed. “Last time you were like this it was our, oh what was it. . . our fourth and a half date?”
Tank dropped some of the tension in their arms, confused. They hiccupped another sob before asking, “What?” Their breath resumed its panicked pattern.
“Yeah, our fourth and a half date?” Sam continued. “When we were goin’ to go out for dinner but instead we went to the park.”
“Oh. . .” Tank shakily said. That was the time that they had gotten a panic attack in front of Sam the first time. Something said on the radio had reminded them of Quinn, and Sam parked at one of Dahlia’s city parks to help them calm down. They ended up staying there for a few hours instead of going to the original dinner place they had chosen. “That was a while ago. . .”
“It was. And you insisted that it couldn’t count as a real date. Even though we were together just the same.” Sam watched their breathing slow for a second.
“You were comfor–comforting me for more than an hour. That is not a date,” Tank wiped their nose with the back of their hand. They took a few more deep breaths, the air now being able to make it into their lungs easier. “And I ended up falling asleep.”
“You were worn out, Darlin’,” Sam shrugged. He untucked his legs from under him. “Besides, we went to get slushies and gas station snacks after you woke up from your nap; Although not healthy, I think that counted as a perfect dinner.”
And then it was silent besides his partner’s sniffles. Tank rested their chin on their knees and was still curled into a ball, but they had stopped heaving out sobs. Only the occasional round of silent tears made its way down.
“Sam?” Tank timidly asked. They were looking away from him now.
“Yes?”
“Can I h-hold your hand?”
“Of course.” Sam gave them a small smile. He maneuvered himself to lean against the tub. Their hand was rough, and warm, and a little bit sweaty. He brought his other hand to cup around it.
“Sorry for changing the subject. I’m all for cryin’ it out, but I didn’t want you to end up makin’ yourself sick or passing out,” He said eventually, thumbs brushing against their knuckles. Tank dropped their head onto his shoulder.
“S’okay. I get it,” They whispered, wiping their cheeks with their free hand. The next minute was filled with matching each other's breathing, and Tank’s eyelids drooping every so often. Sam probably realized that they were going to fall asleep and tapped their knee.
“Let’s go lay down,” Sam murmured the suggestion. Tank hummed a noncommittal sound, but didn’t resist when Sam helped pull them up from the position on the floor. He also offered for them to change into new clothes, and so they switched into a lighter shirt and pair of shorts before collapsing onto the bed.
“I’m gonna get you water,” He said. The warm light of the kitchen filtered over to their bed and they laid an arm over their face. He came back and set the water onto the coffee table. They uncovered their face and blinked up at the soft look on Sam’s face.
“Come lay with me,” Tank said, and stretched their hand.
“If that’s what you want,” Sam crawled in next to them. Both of them were facing each other, and Tank had draped an arm over Sam’s waist.
“Sam?” They whispered again.
“Hm?”
He stared intently into their eyes. Tank took a deep breath and looked away, “What if– He finds me here? He said he had sources, and I don’t know what that exactly means, but he knows where to find me.”
“I’ll be with you.” Sam moved his hand to stroke along their cheekbone. “You don’t have to deal with him by yourself. You’ve got me now,’’ he affirmed.
Tank shuddered out a breath, “I don’t want him to hurt you, though.”
Sam gave them a small smile and wrapped an arm around their shoulders. Tank relaxed into his hold and looked back at him. “I’m sure between the two of us, we could send him runnin’ home with his tail in between his legs.”
They stared into his brown eyes, and felt the corners of their lips perk up. “Yeah. The two of us.”