pills ✧ tronnor

seventeen

After people found out what had happened, they often tried to approach me and offer me some sort of comfort and reassurance. As much as I understood that they were just trying to be helpful and to make me feel a bit better, it just grew to irritate me. They didn't care about how I was doing before, they only cared because Connor was gone, and they didn't want me to go through it alone. More often than not, when someone made an attempt to talk to me, I brushed them off. I tried to do it in the least rudest way, but sometimes I couldn't hold my tongue and I'd snap. Eventually I'd apologise, but I didn't want to. Fortunately, however, they understood why I was being the way I was, and they grew to leave me alone.

I was torn between wanting to go home and wanting to stay. I wanted to go home so I could see my family; they were the only people I wanted to see, and I knew that being around them would eventually help me get over the loss of Connor. However, I knew that if I left, I'd feel like I was leaving Connor behind. I'd be carrying on my life whilst he'd given up and couldn't continue his own anymore. I wanted to stay near him forever, but I knew there was only so much time that I could spend on the psychiatric ward before they'd need to discharge me.

As soon as Connor passed away, I couldn't look at any part of the ward in the same way. Every room I went to reminded me of him, and encounters we'd had with eachother from my very first day of admission. Whenever I went in to my room, all I could think about was when he first introduced himself, and how cold I'd been towards him. I remembered that night when he came into my room because he couldn't stop his arm from bleeding. I remembered the nights we'd spent cuddled up with eachother, and how I'd sometimes lay awake watching him while he slept because it made me feel so peaceful.

The recreation area reminded me of when he'd sit and watch me draw or write out lyrics to a song or poem I'd never publish, and how we'd sometimes sit cross-legged on the floor in the corner playing dingy old board games. The shower block always reminded me of the night we had sex for the first time, forgetting our towels and then running back to my room completely naked, praying nobody came out of their rooms and saw us. I knew I would never feel as intimate with anyone else as I had with Connor - there was just something so special about that moment, that I knew would never be replicated in any of my future relationships.

I understood why the staff on the ward had made it their priority to permanently block off the entrance to the roof, but at the same time I resented them for it. When Connor had lost Sam, he'd still been able to gain some sort of access - despite not being allowed - to the roof so he could still talk to Sam and feel close to him. I didn't have that privilege. The closest I could feel to Connor was being in his room, and even then it didn't feel right. I wished that I could find some way up to the roof so I could sit with my legs dangling over the edge like we always used to, so I could talk to him and feel like he was actually listening to me. If I could, I'd tell him how much he meant to me, and how much I loved him. I'd promise him that I would never forget him, like he'd asked me to before he fell. I hated myself for having not said anything. I could've promised him that everything would be okay, that I'd never leave him, that we could build a life together once we were both discharged. I could still tell him now, but it wouldn't make a difference.

It's not like it would bring him back.

Since the night Connor died, my bed had remained perfectly made up. The reason behind this being that I spent every night in Connor's bed, nestled into the pillows with the duvet pulled up around my shoulders breathing in the mild scent of him that still lingered on the bedsheets. I knew that eventually it would wear away, and that I'd forget what he ever smelt like. One day I'd forget what his voice sounded like, or how his smile looked when he first woke up in the morning and what his kisses felt like. One day, Connor would be nothing but a distant memory, but I would never forget how much he meant to me and how much he made me feel in such a short amount of time. That's why, in the time I had left in the ward, I was doing everything possible to remain as close to Connor as I could. No one tried to stop me - they knew I wouldn't listen to them.

I didn't have long left until I would be discharged and sent home to be with my family, so I was trying to make the most of remembering as much of Connor as I could before I left and would never have to go back. I was determined to get better for Connor. I knew he wouldn't want to look down and see me suffering, particularly if it was because of him. He'd told me not to grieve and not to be sad, but he'd also told me not to forget him. None of those things were possible. I'd spent every night since the incident mourning him and crying myself to sleep, and I knew I would never forget him even if I'd wanted to. There was no way I'd forget someone who'd had such a positive impact on my life despite how little time we'd known eachother for.

I knew that going home to my family would be for the best. They'd understand what I was going through and they'd support me, but they wouldn't smother me or be too clingy. One day, they'd come to learn about how much I'd loved that boy with the green eyes who stole my heart on the very first day, but for now, all they'd be told is that I was simply mourning the loss of a close friend. Only Connor and I knew what we truly were, and that was how it would remain for a while. What we'd shared between us was special, something completely irreplaceable, and I swore to myself that I would never love someone in the same way that I loved Connor. It would be impossible.

Love has no boundaries and no limits, and you can find it in the craziest, most unexpected places and situations, with the most unexpected people. I wouldn't change a thing about the relationship that Connor and I had shared, and I only wished it could've lasted for so much longer. I kept reassuring myself with the fact that he was now in a better place where he wouldn't be suffering anymore, and where he'd be able to be with Sam who I knew had meant so much to him. And I knew one day I'd see him again; one day, sometime in the future. Until then, all I could do was miss him and try to hold onto the feeling he gave me whenever he held my hand, despite him not being there to hold it anymore.