Something was seriously, dangerously wrong. Quinn didn't know what, but it was clear that something was not right.
He couldn't believe that he'd fled from Dorian like that. That wasn't like him. He'd even faced Michel down without flinching, so running away as soon as he felt like his heart was going to pound out his chest was strange, and unlike him.
What was worse was that the more that he moved, the more that it felt like something was holding onto his heart, their long fingers wrapping around Quinn's heart and squeezing. He couldn't breathe, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps and he was desperate to get somewhere away from the public eye.
He barely noticed the bathroom sign, but when he did, he rushed towards it. His legs felt like jelly, his body shivering even in his layers of clothing. He felt like he was drunk as he slammed into the door, using his whole body to push it open. Bile rose up in his throat and he stumbled towards one of the stalls.
