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Bailey Oscar Quinn has just passed the milestone of his 21st birthday, and as far as he is concerned, he received the most fucked up birthday present ever. Seriously, no one should ever bitch if they get undies for their birthday again, because at least they keep your dick cosy on cold nights. This, right after he was thrown out college and had his scholarship cancelled for streaking across campus one evening at a college party. Why did they not understand that one really needed to get quite trashed when the college work just wasn't sinking in to one's brain and all you seemed to manage was, at best, was C-?
Bailey was conceived in New York City, which he thought was way cool. The only thing was, that was where the cool stopped, because he was actually raised by his single mother in Austin, Texas. Fuck, he hated Texas. Was it normal to hate the place you grew up? He did, and he didn't give a shit either. His big break free from the shithole was when he awareded a scholarship to study a Bachelor in Film and Media Arts at at the School of Communication, American University. He went to Washington DC all bright-eyed and bushy-tail, raring to go at college. It had been so awesome. But he had pretty much tanked in all his finals of his first year, and it was a party lamenting these shit grades that had him drunk and streaking. So, he was a wild drunk, who gave a shit? The college gave a shit, and he was promptly shown the door.
Back in Texas, amidst a scorching summer, something started to go really wrong. Bailey's body seemed to begin to rebel against him. He began to get crippling headaches that had him curled up in a ball in his darkened bedroom with the fan blasting on him (they didn't have aircon, it was too expensive to run). Migraines was the diagnosis at that point. Okay, so he got migraines. No big deal. It just didn't stop there. There were three times he passed out in the shower after a coupel of games of basketball with his mates, and one time he actually pased out on the court and cracked his head. Concussion sucked, and so did passing out.
It was only when he was washing up the dishes one night that his hand and arm went numb, and he didn't even realise that he sliced his palm open on a kitchen knife until the dishwater was turning pink from the blood. He didn't think anything of it, just figured the cut on his palm made his hand numb. The final weird crap that had his mother's ears prick up finally was when he was having a hot cup of coffee in a large mug. The numbness returned and he dropped the mug, spilling the shit all over his foot and burning him. He landed in hospital for the first time in his life and a whole bunch of tests followed. The diagnosis, he had no real clue about, but apparently he had Multiple Scleroris. His diagnosis? Happened on his birthday.
MS was serious business. A lot more serious business than his mom's very, very, very basic lowline medical insurance could hope to cover. In fact, when he was set to be discharged from the hospital early because "She could handle it, she did first-aid at work", Bailey was pretty sure he felt his life flash before him. Heading home in yet another boiling hot day (not having been told heat was the Big Bad for MS), Bailey flopped onto his bed and way too overwhelmed to process anything, passed out cold. Afterwards, waking up feeling seedy and scared, he realised he had no choice but to try to contact his father.
His father was a rich asshole who lived in New York. His mother had been attending nursing college there and she met this guy who promised her the world... and delivered nothing but an illegitimate son. Ian Quinn was a fuckstick of epic proportions, but for the first time in his life, Bailey needed his help. He needed money off the guy for better insurance or he might die, or end up in a wheelchair because his condition wasn't taken care of, or he couldn't afford the pile of medications he needed, including a daily injection to slow the progress of it. He hated his father for what he did to his mom, and he hated even more that he had to admit he needed him. But when all his calls to his father's business were cockblocked by a secretary who apparently talked like a sex call operator and didn't pass on messages, Bailey had no choice. He had to go to New York.
He apologised extensively to his mom when he left, and she was in tears. He hated when his mom cried, but she understood. She was also terrified he was going to ride his motorcycle the whole 25 hour trip to get him there. He promised he would stop at hotels along the way and to keep calling her so she knew he was okay. It wasn't like he was leaving anything else of value. He had been kicked out of college, didn't have a girlfriend (or boyfriend, he hadn't really decided what he was yet, and the last few times he tried to have sex, he couldn't get it up anyway, so whatever). It was either this or have her taking a third job to try to pay for everything, and she was already worked to the ground trying to support him, on a lowly nurse's wage. Bailey knew his father was an asshole, and he also knew he apparently had an older brother because his mom had been the other woman at the time. Up to now, Riley didn't give a fuck about a sibling of an asshole he hated. But when he shows up at his father's office, only to be told, despite having his surname, that he didn't believe he was his biological father and would give him nothing, Bailey did the only thing he had left to do...
Landed on his big brother's Upper East Side doorstep.
Runnin' scared can change your mind
I never knew I had so much to give
How hard times can fool you