Chapter Eighteen

"Did you know that even if you waste all of eternity looking for something you'll never find, you'll still be stuck in this house with the rest of us?" Quince asked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He had found Jenna in his room, snooping for whatever she could find, no doubt.

He had made it a habit to lock his door after the first time he had caught her, but other than that he hadn't scolded her. Now it was the second time, and he wasn't sure he could be so lenient. How did she get in there, anyway?

"I'm... sorry," was all Jenna could muster as she stared at the floor. She took risks, but she wasn't good at taking the consequences. Quince was showing just a smidgen of anger, but it still frightened her. Something about the calm demeanor was scarier than if he had cursed at her. She would've deserved it. Jenna knew that looking through other people's things was a low act, but she couldn't help but suspect him! He was in the room almost as soon as she had entered as if he had been notified.

"How did you get in here, Jenna?" Quince questioned, his smile still present.

"The door wasn't locked, so I just came in," She answered. Quince hummed at this. Did he forget to lock his door, or was she just lying? Lying would do her no favors. He accepted her excuse. In a moment, Jenna gave in to her impulse and shouted, "I don't understand what I'm doing here! What is this place, how am I dead?!"

Quince was quiet for a few moments. He looked at her, and she looked at him. It was still. They were analyzing each other as if they could somehow both get the answers they wanted by staring. Quince broke the silence, "I already told you what you're doing here and what this place is. I don't get to tell you how you died yet. It's that simple, what is the problem, Jenna?"

"The problem is that I doubt the validity of your claims," she glared. "Does anyone in this place even know how they died yet? How can I be sure that I'm really dead, and that this is really some mystical, otherworldly house that we're all stuck in forever?"

"You can doubt me all you want, but you can't change anything. Is there anything I could tell you that would really satisfy you?" Quince pointed out, his expression growing colder. Jenna was becoming a problem. Jenna's face softened. This was useless. She didn't answer and instead opted to look to the ground. Quince sighed, "Isn't this what you wanted, anyway? You hardly wanted to live."

"I wanted to rest!" She snapped, her eyes full of anger. "I can't believe you'd say that. I was at a low point in my life, but I know it was still worth living. This, though? This is shit and I don't believe you. I'll find a way out and then I'll get everyone out of here," she hissed. She didn't usually lose her composure like that.

Quince shrugged, "Ok, good luck. I have to stop you if you break rules, but other than that have a blast." He was calm. He could deal with her later. Jenna was about to turn and leave, but Quince spoke again, "And Jenna? If I ever catch you going through my things again, things will be less than great, okay?" He smiled with a tilt to his head. Jenna shuddered and quickly walked away.

"Something is definitely up with him," she thought as she ran to her room. Quince was left to his room and he took a glance around the place before locking and shutting his door. It wasn't like she would find anything incriminating before he could stop her, it was just getting on his nerves. Maybe Jenna was the reason everything was going wrong. No, he thought. It's an amalgamation of many problems building up that's make this all fucktangular.

This version of the house was a weird one. Quince has been through dozens of iterations at this point, but every one of them was still a little different.

He messed up every one of them. Every time he went through this, he messed up one thing or another. One time he had almost lost you completely—he couldn't have that. He remembered nursing you back to health. Fun for him, but not for you. He almost laughed at the memory. You were furious with him—that was one of the times you had everything figured out. You knew that once you were back in good health, things would start again.

And they did, they always did. He was worried about bringing in so many people this time, but it was more fun this way. You seemed to like them, too. It would be a problem if you got too attached to them, but he could always just start again.

He didn't want to, though. Quince was so tired of trying again and again and again. He wanted you to just stay, like you were supposed to. He wanted to go see you now, in fact. If he moved too slowly, would you fall for someone else? If he moved to fast, you'd hate him. Maybe he could go find you now and he could begin making his feelings clearer.

He found you in a sitting room. You seemed tired—not physically, but mentally. He hated seeing you in such a state. You were bright and beautiful with all the energy in the world, but right now you looked exhausted by the events that had been happening around you. He spoke softly, "(y/n)?"

You looked up from your seat immediately; you were surprised. After you recognized him, you relaxed a bit, "Hi, Quince. What's up?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," He said with a smile as he took the chair beside yours. "Things have been a little crazy, huh?"

"They have been since I got here," you laughed out.

"I'm sorry about that," he nodded with real regret. "I wanted things to be better for you." You paused at his tone. He sounded mournful almost. You sat up to face him completely and rest a hand on his knee.

"Hey, don't be sad! It's not your fault and things certainly aren't all bad. I've been having a great time with everyone," you comforted. He brought his gaze up to meet yours and he smiled a sad smile.

"You're kind, (y/n). I just can't help but feel that I should be doing a better job. The higherups trust me to keep you guys in some semblance of order, after all."

"Do they?" you questioned, "because they seemed to have pretty vague rules. I don't think they care too much as long as we don't break any of them."

He contemplated your reasoning for a moment before replying. Being so close to him, you could really take in all of his features. He was angular, but not unappealingly so. While you looked at his hair and his face, your hand on him suddenly felt too invasive. You pulled it away and began to shift in your seat when Quince grabbed ahold of your hand with both of his. You let him.

"You're probably right," He was looking directly into your eyes. "I just wanted everything to be perfect. They trusted me with this job, and I feel like I'm doing awfully."

"You're not doing so bad," you smiled, trying to cheer him up. The hand he held tightly was brought up to his chest, both of you leaning in. "I think you're doing a great job. This isn't a group that really gets along, but we still manage to have a good time every now and then, and that's the point of it all, right? I mean, we even had a celebration. It's been fun."

Quince was gazing at you as he took in your words. You seemed to be speaking earnestly. He appreciated that about you—how honestly caring you were. It seemed to Quince that most people only cared about each other if there was something to gain. In his eyes, you were something different. You really cared. You were really that nice. It wasn't fake or constructed, this was who you were. At least...who you were to him. "You're a good girl, (y/n)," He spoke softly. He softly let go of your hand only to lift his hands to your face and hold you gently in place. You felt secure in his hold. "Thanks for being understanding. We have a long road ahead of us, but we can work together to be happy for as long as we can, right?"

You were glad to hear him speak positively, and you couldn't help the honest grin that split your face, "of course! That sounds perfect." Quince seemed as if he was about to speak when he was interrupted by the door of the sitting room being opened and someone marching over to the two of you. Quince quickly let go of your face and backed up into his seat. You looked up; it was Jason. Right on time... you thought.

"Jason," Quince addressed. "How are you doing today?" For a moment, Jason didn't speak. He looked more troubled than usual, and a lot less stern, too. Is everything okay?

"I'm fine," he shifted his gaze to you. "I wanted... well, I was wondering if I could speak with you." He requested. In truth, you were expecting him to say something like this, but he was certainly less demanding than usual. Making sure he wouldn't be offended by your absence, you looked to Quince. He met your gaze and shrugged dejectedly.

"I can come see you again after?" You offered to Quince as you moved to stand from your chair. He nodded.

"Sure, I'll see you then," he waved you off. You felt a little guilty about it, but something told you that Jason really wanted to speak with you. Jason was grateful that you were coming with, not that he expected you to refuse him. You held on to his arm loosely as he guided you to his room. Again. You were in here often.

When the two of you arrived, you took a tentative seat on the edge of his bed, "What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize for letting things get out of hand with Ryo," He stayed standing instead of taking a seat.

"It's okay," you tilted your head and looked up at him. "I know you guys are just tense." He seemed relieved at your easy forgiveness as he took a few steps closer to you.

"Thank you for understanding, but I still wish I hadn't let you see me like that," he stepped even closer. "I don't want you to think of me as uncollected or as brash." Part of you wanted to ask what Ryo's accusations were about. When you thought about it, you really were spending a lot of time with Jason. You didn't want to think of It negatively, though, he was just trying to show how he cared. Probably.

"I don't think of you that way, silly. You're my friend, so you don't have to worry about keeping some sort of straight-edge image up around me, okay?" You looked up at him. He was almost hovering over you at this point, barely twelve inches separated him from you.

"You're always kind, (y/n)," he smiled, taking your chin in his hand. "I want to know you very well. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," you replied, waiting.

"What do you think of me?" Jason implored. "Could you care for me the same way I care about you?" was the unspoken question in his mind.

"Think of you? I think of you as... a friend who is smart and cooks a lot. And you seem to care a lot about the people you're close with and you're protective," you began to ramble off random characteristics you associated with him, but Jason stopped hearing you. He was just watching your lips move. He had stopped himself last time, but he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to know what you'd think.

"(y/n)," he interrupted you softly. You halted your words and looked expectantly at him. "There's something I've wanted to do, but I've been holding myself back. I'm afraid of you thinking less of me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, "I doubt you could do anything that would make me dislike you. What is it?" He didn't reply. The two of you stared into each other, both trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Before you could speak again, Jason leaned in. You felt heat rush to your face—no it wasn't what you thought it was, was it?

It was. Jason delicately pressed his lips to yours. He was soft and held you like you were glass—like he was afraid to hurt you. You didn't know how to react, but he smelled nice, at least. His eyes were shut and his face was flushed. He leaned back by a small margin and looked for your reaction. He's... surprisingly cute when he's blushing like that, you thought.

"Are you angry?" He whispered.

"I'm not angry," you answered. "But... I don't know if I can commit to any sort of romance right now, I don't know how I'm going to navigate relationships in this place yet." You felt guilty with your hands on his chest and the blush on your face. You didn't feel romantically for him, did you? You avoided his gaze.

"That's okay," he spoke softly. "Just know that I'll be here when you're ready. I've cared for you for a while. I want to be with you, (y/n)."

"You are with me," you pointed out.

"No, I want us to be together. I want us to know each other perfectly and to depend on each other. I can see myself being with you for almost every moment of eternity," Jason elaborated. You weren't sure how to respond to that. That's a lot.

"I need to think about these things," you pushed back slightly. Jason took the hint and separated from you completely, taking a few steps back.

"Of course. You know where to find me, and I hope things won't be weird between us."

"Things won't be weird," you stood from your seat on the bed. "Thanks for being respectful of my boundaries."

You didn't hear him reply. You were honestly a bit more jittery than you let on and you needed to get out of there fast. Without wasting a minute, you were out of his room and walking down the hall.

"No problem..." Jason replied, even though you weren't there to hear it. "I hope you come to your senses soon, (y/n)."