Page 153 of Cohesion

“I made both lasagnes,” Quinn said. “Was that not enough?”

“I guess it’s acceptable. The bed looks good. Sheets fit nice.”

Sebastain groaned and dropped his head back. “Fuck the sheets.”

Quinn laughed and patted him on the chest in mock consolation.

“Wouldn’t you rather fuck us?” Jericho asked. “Besides, it’s perfect for Will.”

“No leg dangling,” Quinn said with a grin.

“And we don’t have to sleep on top of each other,” Sebastian added.

“Shame.” Jericho slowly walked into the room and then stopped near the open wardrobe door. “So, I brought something over the other day when I was bringing more of my stuff over. I haven’t had a chance to show you.”

Sebastian pushed himself up onto his elbows and squinted suspiciously. “What is it?”

Jericho slid open the wardrobe doors and then shifted things out of the way to get to the back. It wasn’t nearly big enough for all of their clothes, and half of them were in one of the spare rooms while they worked out how to divide it—and build more—so it was a mess of… everything.

He came out holding a guitar case.

Sebastian sat all the way up, and Quinn followed him, shifting so that one leg was circled around his back, bracketing Sebastian into his hips. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s mine,” Jericho said. “One of the first things I ever bought with my own money. After food, and clothes, essentials, and whatever Hunter needed to be happy.”

A long list of things before he’d thought of himself.

Quinn absently stroked Sebastian’s back as Jericho brought it over, climbing up to sit on the bed with them. He crossed his legs and opened the case, pulling out a deep-brown acoustic guitar. Quinn knew next to nothing about musical instruments, but he could appreciate beauty when he saw it.

“You mentioned a guitar that you lost at your house,” Jericho said to Sebastian. He settled it over his hips and strummed a few of the strings. “I assume you know how to play?”

“I haven’t for years, but it’s like riding a bike, right? I didn’t know you played.”

“Not as well as piano,” Jericho answered with a lopsided grin. “But let’s see how I go. What should I play?”

“Whatcanyou play?” Sebastian countered teasingly.

Jericho strummed a few chords. “Hunter and I didn’t have a lot growing up. We snuck into a cinema when I was… maybe twelve? He was nine. They were playing the Disney version ofTarzan. One of the songs they sang stuck with me.”

The first few notes were hesitant, but as he went, the strokes got more confident. Like riding a bike. His talents clearly spread to the guitar.

Quinn recognised the song. He and his sisters had enjoyed it as kids.

“You’ll be in my heart,” Sebastian said, naming the song.

Jericho smiled and then sang a few lines with a gravelly, deep voice full of heart. This one meant something special to him. And he had an incredible voice.

“Music speaks to me,” Jericho said softly, staring down at his fingers as he continued the tune. “It’s the one thing in the world that you can have for free. No matter what you have, or where you are, you can make music. You don’t need an instrument to create it; it’s magical in any form.”

“I used to play it for my brother, Eli, to help him sleep,” Sebastian said. He ran his fingers along the edge of the guitar’s body, moving up until the tips of his fingers met Jericho’s. “I can’t sing it, though.”

Quinn’s heart skipped a beat. Jericho’s fingers were longer than Sebastian’s. Made for piano. Together they were beautiful.

“Bed!” Will yelled, bursting into the room. They all jumped at his loud entrance. He starfish flopped down onto his stomach on the bed, spreading his legs wide. “I fit!”

“You fit on your old bed too,” Peyton said, following him in.

“Only just. My head isn’t even stuck to the headboard on this bed.” Will twisted, lying on his side, and propped himself up on his elbow. “What are you doing in here? Who was singing?”

---