Why did you-? (Tree Bros)

5

A/N/ TW

There is a panic attack in this chapter in case you forgot about the triggers in the description. I haven't actually had a panic attack so if I got something wrong I apologize. Safe reading guys.

Dinner was...awkward on my end to say the least. The Murphys were holding up a conversation with my mom while me and Connor sat next to each other in silence.

"Right Evan?" Mom asks.

"Uh-what?" I look up with wide eyes.

"I was just telling them how good you are at writing. You're gonna try to get some scholarships with your skills, right Evan?"

Connor stifles a laugh beside me. I force a smile and nod. "Yeah, yeah I-I have a bunch of ideas for essays so..."

"That's great Evan!" Cynthia smiles. "If your writing is as good as your mom says it is, I'm sure you have a wonderful gift."

I let out a forced chuckle and glance to the side to see Connor smirking at me. "Yeah Evan showed me some of the stuff he's proud of. He has such an amazing talent," Connor chimes in.

"What did he show you?" Mom asks him.

I butt in, "I-I showed him some of m-my poetry and stories. The p-poetry isn't any good now that I-I think of it though.

"What are you talking about? Your poetry is amazing. You should show it to my family," he hits his knee against mine under the table.

"That's-That's not really a-a great idea C-Connor." He hits me under the table again.

"I insist. You have a real talent Evan." He stares at me with a smile but his eyes are angry and persistent.

"F-fine. I-I'll go get some. Connor come with me," I mumble. Without looking back to see if he's coming with me, I walk to my room.

I start digging through my drawers, looking for my notebooks. Footsteps approach my room and the bed dips beside me.

"Why d-did you want me to-to do this?" I ask, keeping my voice and gaze low.

"We need 'proof' don't we? This is the best proof we could get on such short notice."

I toss a notebook at him and glare at the floor. "P-pick anything from here. Th-these are the best ones I-I have." I wipe the small tears that formed and rest on my eyes.

"I feel as though people mock me behind my back.
I feel as if people judge me on how I look, not how I am.
I feel like a screwup.
I feel alone.
I feel unwanted.
I feel hurt." It takes me a moment to realize what he's reading. My eyes widen. That's the wrong book.

"I am quiet.
I am useless.
I am lost.
I am a screwup.
I am alone.
I am unwanted.
I am hurt."

"Connor I-I'd really appreciate it i-if you stopped reading that." I reach for the book but he pulls it away from me.

"I feel and am these things.
Everyone sees,
Everyone knows,
So why do I try to hide it?"

I reach for the book again as he turns the page. He stands up and holds it over his head, straining his neck to read.

"People stare.
People laugh.
People judge.
People look.
People see.
People hear.
They hear what others fear.

Let them stare.
Let them laugh.
Let them judge.
Let them look.
Let them see.
Let them hear,
About the pains and fears that are sincere."

"C-Connor please!"

He turns the page again. I jump the try and reach but he's too tall. Tear start rolling down my cheeks before I can stop them.

"Evan...these are really depressing," Connor mumbles, but there's no mockery in his voice. "Are you okay?"

"J-just g-give the-" my breath catches in my throat. I sit on the bed and pull my knees to my chest, resting my head on top of them while sobbing to myself.

"Evan?" The book closes and is placed on the nightstand. Connor kneels down, the shuffling of his clothes giving him away. "Evan I'm gonna come closer, is that okay?"

I hesitate before nodding. More shuffling. "Evan I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to hurt you so much." He stops for a moment. "Can I sit on the bed?"

I force myself to speak. "Y-y-yes."

"Okay," the bed dips beside me. "Breathe, Evan. You'll be okay, I won't show them the book. I'll leave if you want me to."

I don't say anything.

"What usually helps you?"

I shake my head.

"Can I touch you?"

I nod.

"I'm gonna rub your back. Is that okay?"

I nod.

His hand rests against my back and starts moving in circles. It's oddly calming.

Eventually I calm down, feeling exhausted. I glance up at Connor to see him fidgeting with his jacket. "I'm sorry," he says, looking up for a moment.

"I-it's fine. Th-that happens often so...I-I never get used t-to it though."

It goes quiet.

"How d-did you know what to do?" I mumble.

"I had a few when I was younger. I learned from what people did to me."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Your face isn't that red anymore," Connor points out.

"We should p-probably go b-back out there." I walk to the night stand and pick up the notebook.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting th-this away and g-getting the right one." I put it in my drawer and take out a different one, flipping through to make sure it's the right one. "L-let's go."

We walk back to the table, me in front with Connor trailing behind.