Through the Glass

Chapter 15

Connor sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in hand, the screen dark and cold as he stared at it. The retreat had been intense today, emotionally draining in a way he hadn't expected. He thought the tension would ease once the sessions were over, but instead, it had only grown. The unresolved feelings from the group session simmered under his skin, the worry he'd seen in Eliza's eyes earlier now gnawing at him.

He knew how much she had been dealing with, her words from the session echoing in his mind, reverberating with every beat of his heart. It pained him to see her struggle, and yet he felt helpless, uncertain of how to support her without overstepping or making things worse. His own insecurities, his fear of being inadequate, were always there, lurking in the background, ready to cloud his judgment.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The room felt too quiet, the silence amplifying his anxiety. Connor glanced at his phone again, debating whether to call Max. He needed advice, perhaps a voice of reason in the chaos of his thoughts. His thumb hovered over the contact, a battle raging within him between the need for support and the fear of exposing too much of his vulnerabilities. At last, with a resigned breath, he set the phone back down on the nightstand. He wasn't ready yet, not for that conversation.

Just as he set it down, the phone buzzed, the vibration startling him. The screen lit up, displaying "Mom." His thumb hovered over the green button, a familiar knot forming in his stomach. He knew he should answer—it had been a few days since he last checked in with them—but something in him hesitated. He wasn't sure he was ready for this conversation, especially now.

But he couldn't avoid them forever.

With a heavy sigh, Connor swiped to accept the call and brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, Mom," he said, his voice sounding far more neutral than he felt.

"Connor, sweetheart, how are you doing? We haven't heard from you since you went to that... retreat thing."

Her tone was light, almost too cheerful for the current weight he was carrying. It grated on him, though he didn't want it to. He was already on edge, and her bright tone only reminded him of how disconnected they were from his reality.

"I'm fine," he replied, standing up and pacing the room, needing to move. "Just... working through stuff."

"Good, good," she said quickly, as if she was eager to get past pleasantries. "How's Daniel? Have you talked to him?"

Connor's jaw tightened. Of course, it always came back to Daniel. "I haven't talked to him," he muttered, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Oh, that's a shame. He's doing so well with his new project, you know. I thought maybe he'd have some insights for you, help you with your music."

Connor stopped pacing, the irritation bubbling up inside him. It was always like this. Daniel, the golden child, and he, the one who needed to be fixed, to be more like his brother.

"Yeah, maybe," he said flatly. "But I'm at a retreat, Mom. I'm dealing with my own stuff."

There was a pause on the other end, and when his father's voice came through, it was sharp, cutting. "You should make time to keep up with your brother, Connor. Family's important."

Connor's nostrils flare with explosive rage, his breath catching in his throat like a clenched fist. "I'M AWARE, DAD," he growls through gritted teeth, the words dripping with venomous disdain. "BUT IT'S NEVER THAT SIMPLE." His hands shake with pent-up frustration and his jaw clenches so hard it could shatter.

His father's response was dismissive, as if Connor's concerns were trivial. "Life isn't supposed to be simple, Connor. You've got to push through it. Daniel's done just fine, and he's been dealing with plenty."