Don't Bring Me Your Bullets

{Quinn's POV}
"My backpack..." I hesitantly looked into his eyes. They were quite beautiful, they opened a whole new color spectrum, they opened a whole new... idea. Those eyes looked like they could stare through your skin, right in to your very soul. I looked back down at the backpack, away from those haunting eyes and smirking smile.

"Oh, this? I just found it out there." I continued to look at my backpack. I could identify where everything was in the dark. I had memorized every single inch of that thing. I had a creepy and odd obsession with it.

I was a sick human being.

For other reasons than the backpack obsession of course. I mean, there was a reason I needed to know where everything was at all times. There was a reason I had severe anxiety. There was a reason I needed everything to go as perfectly as plan. There was a reason I needed Lys for everything. There was a reason I was totally and utterly mad.

But that's not necessary to know now.

"Yes. That is my backpack." I answered stiffly. He smirked wider. I took a deep breath, not allowing the panic to yet set in.

"Well I think I like it." He shook it around and I heard all of the things I cared about rattle around in there. I looked straight into his eyes.

"Can I please have that." I asked as politely as I possibly could without actually jumping on the guy. He put his hand on his chin as though he was seriously considering it. He kept making strange noises and I began to realize he was the slightest bit drunk.

"Gerard, just give her the backpack, we need to go back out." The tall, awkward one shrugged, pushing up his glasses just so they could fall back down again. It was a tiresome cycle and I felt the need to point it out, but I didn't. The man holding my backpack, Gerard, nodded his head, laughing.

"Okay. Here you go, sweetheart." He handed me the backpack and our hands touched. His face was so close to mine, I could smell the faintest aroma of alcohol on his heavy breath. He winked at me and then sauntered off, the big hard man, tiresome cycle boy and blond haired guy disappeared after him. That left Frank and me.

"He's a good guy, he's just a hopeless drunk." Frank sighed, glancing over at the empty door. He then turned to smile at me. "So, do you want to go home or call someone or?" He asked. I realized I may have overstayed my welcome. I looked at him with a tiny grin.

"I'll call my roommate." I said shyly. Frank nodded his head as I grabbed my real phone out of my-thank god-backpack. I then clicked

Lys's number (she was on my speed dial) and waited for it to ring.

And...... She answered.

"Hello, you've reached..." Lys' tired voice began to drone on.

"Lys, I know you're there." I cut her off.

"Q, why are you calling me, you're right next door." She groaned.

"Actually, you left me alone last night. I'm on my way home now, if you care." I sighed. She began to say something else but I cut her off, shutting my phone off. Frank looked over at my sympathetically.

"Need a ride home?" He asked.

"That would be nice." I replied gratefully. He nodded.

"Right this way, ma'am." He bowed and motioned me out the door. I giggled and exited the room, and around the corner to see a totally broken down car.

Notes

More tomorrow maybe?
Idk.
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