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To Bee, Quentin is like the ocean or the sea. The ocean fits better through. Sometimes she thinks she waxes poetry too much for even her liking, but really Quentin is too much like the Ocean for her to just. Ignore.
Whenever Bee hears about him, he seems to be all around the world doing something differently. He’s chatting from the nether, then the desert and then the end. Every time she turns around he’s jumping all over their world, seemingly here and there without issue. The ocean does that too, going everywhere and being everywhere without care of who or what tries to stop it. She guesses they’re opposite in this then, since she stays home most days.
It’s not like she wouldn't want to be out adventuring with him, or anybody actually, she just. She doesn’t know. Sometimes it’s hard, hard to even get her limbs to get out of bed. To want to see people, to even brush her teeth is hard sometimes. She likes staying near the ground, near the beach. But the ocean is nice, it cools her down. Takes her places she has never seen before.
If he’s the ocean, fae guesses that might make fae the sun. That can't be the case through, so fae thinks faer is more like. Maybe a sand castle sometimes. Fae was working on it.
Quentin goes everywhere — with that big smile of his and that hair that looks so soft from a distance. (Is that creepy?) Bee tries not to think about it, but when they're close it’s hard to resist to scruff his hair and run faer hands through it just to see how soft it is. Fae wonders if he would let fae if fae tried. If he would let fae run a hand through his hair, and then lean in as close as fae dared to kiss him. Wonders if he would kiss back.
Then Bee shakes fae head, because friends don't think that way about other friends. Which is what they are. Just friends. It’s fine through, because his smile even from far is just enough for her.
He’s like the ocean in that way too through, just out of reach of fae. Maybe in this case then maybe Bee is the moon.
Bee cradles her red face, and sighs. She’s good at waxing poetry and this journal helps, so she guesses while she tries and gets this out she can just. Wax all she wants. Quentin looks up from where he has Cupid in an awkward attempt at a headlock, and they both wave. She can’t help but grin and wave back, ducking her head and blushing. She picks up her quill and with a finger draws a very rough, very shitty imitation of them. It’s nice up here.
She tries again to be poetic, she’s more a writer after all, so she starts to write how he’s like the ocean, in the way he shines. Then erases it, because no that is dumb, then tries again.
Quentin’s like the ocean, the way he waves at fae every chance he gets. Bee likes to think the ocean curling around your ankles is like a hi, in its own weird way. Like a silent, but friendly greeting to come closer. Quentin’s sorta like that, quiet sometimes but sometimes he’s louder than that, bolder than that. Louder than the ocean would ever dare to be, and Bee loves that about him. Dare fae says love, instead of fond of, lest faes heart stop beating right in faer chest.
The times fae does see Quentin, with someone following him step for step, when he sees fae he beams like he’s seeing the moon. He beams such a pretty smile and waves at her and whoever’s with him will follow suit. He has such a pretty smile it makes Bee’s chest hurt, so she settles on waving back with a smile of her own. There’s so many things to love about Quentin, and so like the ocean she watches as ships swirl around him, and keeps that smile in her head for good luck. That good luck charm must work, because she does remember a time they got so close they’re shoulders are touching. She doesn’t remember when, or why. Just warthm.
Quentin’s much warmer than the ocean, which is nice because if he was as cold as the ocean it’d probably suck to hug him. He didn’t stay long of course, jumping off the perch to roll in the sand and laughed, getting sand entangled in his hair. She watched, not wanting to slow the waves down, just wish they linger just a little longer near her.
If anything fae hopes he stays like this. Just, the same. A lot of things tended to change in fae’s life. People left, people joined, people wailed and were hurt. But watching Quentin laugh made her want this to stay. Maybe she wouldn't disturb the waves today, just let him run his course. The ocean stayed the same, would always be around, so maybe if fae wished hard enough Quentin would too. Maybe this moment would stay the same, and maybe fae could protect that smile for as long as life allowed.
(“You should come down here more,” Quentin says. Bee’s heart, of course, tries to come out of her chest.
“Sure,” she shrugs, trying to stay casual when her heart cheers that someone wants her here. “Tell me when you want me to go through, alright?”
Quentin tilts his head, like a dog. Then grins.
“I won't.” He teases, and Bee rolls his eyes. It makes her heartbeat beat a little faster all the time.)
Bee nearly jumps out faes skin when she drops the book and he’s right there, kicking his legs. Fae jumps, and he reaches a hand and pulls fae closer so fae doesn’t drop backwards. God that would have sucked. Respawning always left a full ache in her bones.
“Careful,” He chides playfully, letting go of her arms.
“You’ve saved me again, how ever could I repay you?” She smiles, tucking the book in her inventory. Quentin laughs. He pretends to think, then his face reddens, looking down at his comm.
“How–” He hesitates. “How about a kiss? Princ-ess?” He teases again.
Bee thinks he’s teasing, the way he dumbly elongs princess. The nickname makes fae feel sick, in excitement and dread, and how much fae adores him. His face is all red from the heat, and her face is red from the heat too, of course.
She laughs it off, because if fae thinks about it too much fae might do something stupid like kiss him until he’s blue. Fae shoves at his shoulder and buried her face into his shoulders, hoping this stays the same. God, let his smile stay the same. He hesitates, and when he does nothing Bee realizes too late this is too close. It’s dangerous close to a confession. Something more, something that might ruin whatever this is. Whatever it is. Fae doesn’t- can't ruin that, so she quickly pulls away.
He lets her go, eyes on her, then around, then back at her. The look he’s giving fae is a weird one. One Bee can’t decipher if it’s good or bad. Go figure, Bee usually couldn't tell, but Bee worried anyway. Did fae somehow make him uncomfortable? Had fae fucked this up? Was it too close? Had fae just looked at him too fondly?
‘Sorry,’ bubbles near her throat, getting stuck there for a second. Fae tries again, and he sighs and holds his arms out, with hands that are very slightly shaking. Bee wouldn't have noticed if they weren't so close. She looks at him, he looks away, face red.
“I– fuck.” He curses. “You know I'm not good at this. C’mere.” Bee wants to ask, wants to ask why? Wants to ask what they are. Instead fae dives back into his arms, nearly knocking him backwards. He let’s out a little ‘oof’ and wraps his arms around her. She relaxes, breathing out hard. This is dangerously close to something, but Bee closes her eyes and thinks maybe this is everything.
“I love you,” Fae mouths into his shoulder, keeping her head buried in his shoulder. She can’t, just can’t look at him. He tenses. Then relaxes again. Fae feels a hand gently press against the back of faer head, pulling fae closer, like their bodies would melt together any moment. This is a very long hug between friends fae reasons to faeself, not wanting to break this. Not wanting to know what this meant just in case it hurt. It felt nice through, to be in his arms like this.
Quentin was very soft. He is here, and she is here, and she loves him. Which is a little sad because there is no way he loves fae. But this is okay. This is better than okay for now. Here, in his arms, she is not unlovable. That’s enough.
She’s like a little kid, chasing the waves of the ocean to see if she can. Except he is holding her and this is a little more real. He leans back, and she leans back and he smiles at her.
This is what the moon must feel like seeing the ocean, fae thinks smiling back.
They hear angel’s armor clinking and once again fae is chasing the waves.