𝚂𝚒𝚡 | 𝙱𝙾𝙼

End of week two -continuation-

           When Connor awoke the next morning something about him seemed dull. Almost like a rose bush with no roses upon it. You see, usually when Connor stumbled out of the wooden door frame his aura was almost visible. He was bright, even for what seemed like 4 in the morning. But today was obviously different.

     Kevin and James both turned their heads to see the groggy boy. Kevin, looking at his ass. And James, looking at his face.
  "Good Morning Conner," Naba said with a gentle tone, trying not to alarm the actual walking dead. He groaned in response and sat on the couch awfully close to Kevin. James grumbled. He didn't know why he took a sudden liking towards the blue eyed boy. Maybe because the light red dust on his cheeks reminded him of the flowers at the Salt Lake City temple. Even though that place was nowhere near sacred to him, spring there was always a time of beauty, mormon or not. James loved Chris though. His blonde hair and odd obsessions with pop tarts was enough to make James fall for him. Though it didn't seem that way now..

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——Connors POV——
    When I was around 12 I knew I was different. I know I know cliche- but listen. I didn't listen to the same music as all of the popular kids, I didn't dress the same, and hell I didn't even feel the same. And when I finally started to show it, I got shoved down a hole of self doubt and hate. Of course my parents were there. But when your young, you feel alone. Remember those times when we were really small and we would draw the most horrid pictures and yet, we were proud. And then your parents would hang it on the fridge and when people came over you would let everyone know you drew that dog or whatever it was. But then as you grow older, and riper to society, we start looking at the little things in our art or even ourselves. And we worry over it. And that's only because we listen. We listen to what people have to say on our tiny inconveniences. And then we try to change but often, it doesn't work like that. Why can't we go back to who we were in the old days? That proud 5 year old with a box of crayons and a future.

   By the time I was 15, I still was stuck in that place. But this time I felt the need and the thrill to climb out. I didn't want to feel like a shattered mirror facing a cold ocean any more. I needed to walk through the door of self acceptance. I knew the journey would be long and that we never really truly find ourselves until our last breath. But once I did almost three years later, once I walked through that door and let myself free. I felt as beautiful as a bird in an oak tree as it set flight.

   But here I am again. Stuck in a bunker for the past two weeks with 5 strangers. By now you would think we were close. Me and Naba are very close. And she's not fooling me, I can see her baby bump.

  But, only time can tell.