Printer Boy (Connor Murphy x Fem!Reader)

8. You Made Me Run... I Hate Running

Connor and I must have cried for hours. By the time I finally pull away, eyes red and puffy, the sky was already halfway dark.

"Can I walk you home?" Connor asks quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

"Can we just... get slushies, or something?"

"Yeah." He clears his voice to clear the rasp in his voice, even though I think it's adorable. Shit, Y/n, he just tried to fucking kill himself, I think, you can't fucking think about that right now. "C'mon, I need to get my truck." He stands slowly, stretching his arms above his head before lowering a hand to help me up. I link my arm through his and let him lead the way in silence.

"Hey Connor?" My voice cracks, making me wince.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask- I mean, I thought-" Tears begin to spring at my eyes again. "You seemed happy, this morning," I trail off, not wanting to seem insensitive.

"You wanna know why I tried to do it?" I nod. Connor lets out a long and burdened sigh. "My dad, he, um. We fight a lot. And today he... he said everyone would be better off without me, that if I died- um. Sorry." Connor clears his throat as he visibly chokes back his tears, "He said if I died no one would miss me. And I thought about it. I realized... no one would. He's right."

"Thats not true." I say quietly.

"YES IT IS." Connor yells, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and unlinking our arms in one swift motion, "LARRY MAKES IT FUCKING CLEAR HE DOESN'T WANT ME, ITS OBVIOUS CYNTHIA THINKS I'M A FUCKING BURDEN, AND ZOE DOESN'T FUCKING KNOW I EXIST." He stops for a breath, and continues, quieter this time. "And you're only nice to me because you feel bad."

"Connor, what the fuck?" I snort. He looks scared all of a sudden, taking a small step back. "Bitch, I've only known you for two days but I sprinted across a fucking park so I could save your life." I slip my arm through his again and mutter, "I fucking hate running." Connor snorts lightly.

"That's some commitment right there." He says, half melancholic, half satire.

"Seriously though, dude." I lean into his shoulder, "You better not try that again. I'll crawl into the depths of hell and beat the fucking shit out of you if you do."

"You're gonna beat the shit out of me, shortass?" He laughs, pulling out his keys as we reach his truck, parked next to an obnoxiously large and ornate house.

"Yeah, bitch, you don't wanna catch these hands." I jab at him playfully, making him smile.

"M'lady," He opens the car door and gestures for me to climb in.

A/N:

idfk.

i got a paramore shirt bc paramores cool as shit.

eat shit, bitches.

(jk ily)

-Vale