boy product

day forty-four

My mind hurts, my body hurts, my heart hurts. For the color of your eyes and the way your skin feels when against mine. I hurt for the seconds we get alone and the glances shared. I hurt for you.
------
C O N N O R

4-15-15

I hate life. I hate people. But what's new? Last night was shit, like having to return home isn't bad enough but my parents had to have their friends over too. As soon as I opened the door things went downhill.

"Connor is that you?" My mothers recked voice sounds from the kitchen. I sigh as I make my way towards her, dropping my bag on the liquor stained couch along the way. "Oh good, it is."

"Learn to answer your mother next time boy." My father says but my mom just waves him off.

"Oh he's fine! He's had a rough day I bet. How was school sweetie?" Sounds like a normal conversation doesn't it? Wrong. I look around the room tell my eyes find the table where three older men sit.

"It was okay." I say and my dad scoffs mumbling an 'ok my ass' under his breath.

"That's good, that's good. Say, you wouldn't want to run to the store for your dear ol' mom would you?" And there it is. She'll have me run down the liquor store and pick up a bottle of tequila and some limes. Just like yesterday, and the day before and the day before. Being 18 doesn't always have it's perks.

"Uh, I have a lot of homework I need to do actually. If you don't mind-"

"How inconsiderate of you Connor." She says her demeanor now grumpy and almost angry. "I thought you were more respectful than that. Maybe your fathers right, you do need to learn a thing or too." I back up a bit as she advances towards me, but I no there's nowhere to go.

"I'm sorry." I mutter and I keep on saying, even as her fists come crashing down into my chest with so much force it becomes hard to force out the words. Explosions of pain burst throughout me but I don't scream. I've grown accustomed to the constant pain and how to stay quiet. I'm always so quiet.

"No you're not." She says, taking a step back and wiping some of my blood off of her fist. "Not unless you want to go to the store, then I'll forgive you. " I nod, defeated and she smiles brightly. "Good! Stay here and I'll grab you some money. Peter? do you have..." I tune her out as I grab a rag, wetting it and dabbing the new cuts and the ones that reopened. I've come to realize two things today. One, I am scarily good at turning my ears off. Two, I now understand where I get my bipolarness from. She shoves a five in my hand before pushing me out the door. "And Connor?" I turn back around.

"Yes?"

"Don't come back without my stuff, or you'll regret it."

Lets just say that five bucks wasn't enough to cover what she wanted. But three hours of trash duty did. And that's how I've ended up here, in my first hour. Standing in the back with Troye and Ben going over dances.

"Are you even listening to me Connor?" An accented voice asks and instead of answering him I ponder over how he kept it. He moved here in the sixth grade and he still sounds really Australian. Not that I'm complaining, its soothing in a scary-stop-talking way. "I can always just tell Tyler that I can't help you." This catch's my attention.

"Who's Tyler?" He rolls his eyes, throwing a hand through his hair melodramatically.

"Mr. Oakley. His first name is Tyler."

"Ohh." I look to my left to find an innocent looking Bert-Ben-standing there. He looks up at me with a smile that's to big for his narrow face. "So, what's next?"