Connor Murphy: Case Reopened

Chapter Two: Rekindled Acquaintances

A/N: Warning, there is some swearing Heere!

Evan could have died of horror right there. Mrs Murphy, the woman whose son he'd used for his own gain had caught him daring to mourn at the graveside.

Oh God she hates you. Well, she already does, but now even more and she'll yell and tell Mom and...

"Evan, I, I never knew you felt any of that." Evan slowly stood up, ferociously attacking the hem of his blue polo underneath the hoodie.

"Sorry?" His eyes widened. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs Murphy, I mean what right have I got to be here, I mean I shouldn't have come, and I'm so sorry." He began to walk way, but when she called him, he stopped.

"Evan, wait." He turned, and saw her prop her own bunch of flowers against the tombstone. She then walked over, and sort of half smiled.

"It's nice to know that there's someone other than me who will cry and mourn him. No one else seems to." She quickly wiped a tear from her eye, as she gestured Evan to follow her. He did this, making his way to her car. She opened the passenger door, and looked to Evan, noticing his apprehension.

"I know you can get nervous Evan, so, just know that it's been a while, and, I've moved on. Please, I just want to talk to you. About Connor." Evan sighed, and slowly got into the seat and bucked up. As did Cynthia, who began to drive off.

After a while, the drove past an open field, framed with sycamore trees, shaking slightly in the breeze. Just before it flew past his eye, Evan spotted the large sign by the entrance, The Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard, A Safe Space for All. Cynthia noticed Evan looking, and decided to break the silence.

"Have you been yet?" She asked. Evan slowly nodded.

"Uh, yeah. About three months ago, with uh, Zoe." Cynthia simply made a hmm noise in response, pulling in to a small car park. Once Evan was out of the car, his brow began to perspire with nerves as he eyed the small, pink and blue walled shop. He let himself chuckle awkwardly.

"So this is A Lá Mode?" Cynthia again nodded, as she made her way to the door, before turning to him.

"They still think... they're still under the, you know what I mean." It was Evan who now simply nodded. Of course he knew what she meant. They still thought he was the secret friend, rather than the lying waste of space. They enter the shop, which had the aesthetic of some 1950s ice cream parlour.

That's 'cause it is, Hansen. Isn't it obvious?

Evan pinched his arm. It's just you, it's just you.

Really, Hansen?

Cynthia walked over to a red and white stripped table in the corner, and simply asked,

"Vanilla?" Evan mumbled something, but his nod was enough for Cynthia. And so, a few minutes later he and she were, more prodding than eating, their bowls of vanilla ice cream. This awkward silence remained until Evan, surprisingly, spoke up.

"So, you, uh, w-wanted to talk about Connor?" She put her spoon down.

"Yes, I do, but," she paused. "Before I do, I just want to know, why?" Evan froze. This time, he wouldn't lie.

"I'd never seen anyone so sad before. I tried to tell you at the start, but you seemed to be comforted by what you thought, a-and, I just thought I was helping. But, I-I wasn't." Cynthia raised a brow, before images of the past flashed in her mind.

"When did you-"

Connor , uh, Connor, d-didn't write this. W-what does he mean?! Look, Larry his cast, his best and most dearest friend...