Introverts

Seeing The Good In Him

C O N N O R
"Holy shit." My eyes fight to open and I feel around me for my phone. What time is it? I can feel the sun as it streams though my bedroom window. This is my bedroom right? My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes finally adjust. My comforter is draped over my body lazily and my clothes smell like sour milk. I close my eyes and try to come up with an answer to why my head is pounding and why I slept with my shoes on.

The party.

I groan in pain as I try to recall the events of last night. The only thing that seems to be real is the hour I spent before getting ready. I run a hand throw my hair and sit up slowly. My usually soft locks are coated in sweat and grim, it's not like me to get it dirty. Slowly I make my way to my bedroom door, opening it quietly and walking down the hall to the kitchen. My mom is sitting at the dinning room table when I enter.

"Good morning mom." I say, yawning as I reach for the fridge. I hear a huff and wood against tile.

"Connor." The normal sweet motherly tone I've just gotten back is gone and replaced by a colder one.

"Uh...are you feeling okay?" I ask, turning to watch her as she pulls out a glass.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Are you feeling okay?" Besides the pounding sensation and the urge to puke, yes I am.

"Yeah, I'm good." She finally looks at me and my heart drops at her fierce glare.

"Oh really? Because I've always found hangovers horrible." My eyes widen and I avert them quickly. Shit. "Do you know what else is horrible? Having your son dropped off at four in the morning, unconscious." She slams the glass down in the sink before feeling it up with water.

"I'm sorry." I mumble and she growls under her breathe. Who the hell brought me home?

"I just don't get it Connor. You just got your hearing back and here you are, partying and getting wasted with boys I've never even met before!" I raise my gaze to her and she gives me a questioning look.

"I said sorry. I wasn't planning on getting drunk." She rolls her eyes before reaching behind me into the medicine cabinet.

"Oh sure honey. Who threw this party anyway?" I open my mouth to answer her but fall short. Who threw the party again? "You've got to be kidding me Connor. You don't even know who's party it was?"

"I mean, I did." She hands me the glass and a couple Tylenol.

"Cause that makes me feel better." She grumbles and I sigh.

"Mom-"

"Don't," She raises and hand, her eyes closed. I know better then to speak. "Just go to your room. We'll talk about this later when your head doesn't feel like it's about to explode." I nod gratefully and drain my water. On the short walk back to my bedroom I think of how amazing my mom is. Despite being scared shitless and feeling horrible she's still worried about how bad my head hurts. Mom's are great. When I open my door I look around. Everything looks the same, besides my blankets in the floor and my phone laying next to them. I walk towards it, unlocking the screen to find 5 missed calls and 11 missed messages.

Troye The Boy:
11:45 pm: Connor I'm so sorry...
11:56 pm: Please answer me.
12:08 am: I've looked everywhere for you, where are you?
12:26 am: Connor I'm scared, please answer my calls.
12:43 am: I can explain just tell me where you are. Did you go home?
1 am: all the lights are off, I'm going home now. please answer me...
1:10 am: connor...please.
1:14 am: I'm coming over tomorrow.

At this message I begin to panic. What is he apologizing for? What happened? His next three messages aren't to helpful.

1:26 am: I promise you that it's not what you think.
1:32 am: can we talk about this?
1:47 am: Connor?