Bruised (Phan) [EDITING]

9

"Group therapy in ten," the bulky nursed huffed out.

Connor shivered, he didn't like group therapy too much. The doctor always seemed to stare him down, she knew whenever he did something wrong. She was almost like a mother, in the sense that she knew everything you did.

Like that one time at breakfast Connor dumped his cereal, he was so sure he'd gotten away with it until the nurse came before bed with a can of ensure. He'd felt like crying.

Or that time when he swapped the individual menus to have less on his tray only to have more put on.

Troye was still sleeping, medicine placed on his bedside table. His arm covered his eyes and the blankets were pulled up to his ears, his hand was lazily holding up the cloth Connor had put last night.

Connor smiled softly before lightly shaking Troye's shoulder. He stirred before fully waking with a groan, opening his lids to reveal those endless depths of blue.

"Group therapy," Connor supplied with an awkward grin. Troye huffed before sitting up and noticing the pills. He didn't even blink while he gulped them down.

"You okay? How're you feeling?" Troye replied with a shrug, his shirt so loose his collarbones were visible. He threw back the blankets and slipped on some sweats before going in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Connor only repressed a frown, whatever was bothering Troye was bothering him.