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~6~

It was getting harder to lie to Evan.

So what if Connor wasn't being truthful? He was only doing this to protect Evan from him. He didn't want to lash out at Evan, because he'd never forgive himself for it. It was the only thing keeping him safe.

Connor sat in his room, painting his nails with black polish, not paying any mind to the color. That was the least of his worries, anyways. As long as he had something to pick at, it didn't matter what anyone else had to think. People needed to let go of the illusion that 'only girls wear nail polish' because guess what, Connor was breaking that stereotype, and so were many other guys.

' "Whoa, you did that?" Miguel gestured to his nails.

Connor had blushed, and looked away, "Yeah... and?"

"How the hell are they so good? I can't even paint my little sister's without fucking it up," Miguel grinned.

Connor smiled sheepishly at his reaction, "Well, I chip them a lot, so I have to redo them almost like, four days after I did them. I guess practice makes perfect."

"No shit," Miguel laughed, and threw an arm around Connor's shoulders.'

Connor bit his lip, trying to hurry and finish painting his nails. He didn't want to be reminded of him. He just wanted to let him go. He needed to let him go. So what if he's starting to like his only friend? So what if he's still hurting from Miguel. He'll be fine.

After repainting his nails, he grabbed his sketchbook and began to flip through it, not caring about his undried paint. He then stopped at a picture of Miguel, gazing at it.

'Connor traced the pencil lightly across the faint lines of his paper, before looking over at Miguel, who was busy doing schoolwork.

"It sucks we don't go to the same school anymore," Miguel sighed, setting his pencil down. "You didn't have to lie for me."

"You would've gone to rehab..." Connor was already looking back at his paper.

Miguel made an exasperated noise, "You're acting like you didn't go! I've heard how horrible it is! And now both our parents think you have a major drug problem!"

"They probably think I'm the problem," Connor scoffed.

"I doubt that," Miguel shook his head, and moved to sit next to him.

Connor shut his sketchbook and set it aside. "Thanks, M." '

The sketchbook was still in good shape, if Connor was being honest. It was a birthday gift from Cynthia, who'd asked if he had anything he wanted. Although it was starting to run out of pages to draw on, it definitely lasted a while.

He flipped through it, seeing some doodles of Evan. He'd never drawn in front of Evan, but he knows Connor draws. He isn't the type of person to ask him to draw him, but rather to send pictures of what he's drawing. Of course, he'd never show Evan those drawings, but he always had different ones to give instead.

Evan loved it when he drew nature. He was always in awe as to how he caught the magnificence of forests, plants, or mountains. Of course he liked other stuff too, like his portraits.

He remembered a certain picture sent, so he pulled out his phone and scrolled upwards.

There it was. A crumpled piece of paper showed a poorly drawn pair of boys. One was carrying the other and had obvious long hair. The other had small tears in his eyes, but he was smiling.

Connor wasn't dumb. He knew what it stood for. It was when he helped Evan go to the hospital, the day they first met. Why the blond decided to draw that day was a mystery to him.

'|Evan|- So hey, you know how you draw and stuff..?

|Evan|- Well I decided to take a go at it.

|Evan|- *Evan has sent an attachment*

|Evan|- It's bad I know.

|Connor|- it's cute

|Evan|- You don't have to lie...

|Connor|- I'm not lying. There's room for improvement, but that's pretty much with any type of artist

|Evan|- This was just for fun. I'm more of a poetry type of person.

|Connor|- you write poetry and you didn't tell me? Now I wanna see some

|Evan|- Oh I don't know...

|Connor|- please?

|Evan|- A lot of it is long and boring, and I'm sure you don't wanna read large blobs of text. Besides, none of them have a deep meaning to our world. It's just boring and you probably don't wanna read it.

|Connor|- ev, poems don't need to have a deeper meaning. I wanna read them, no matter how boring they are, okay?

|Evan|- I suppose you're right...

|Evan|- Fine, but don't laugh at how corny they are.'

Even though it had nothing to do with him, Connor began to think about Miguel, and how he pestered him to see his drawings. Miguel would shower him with compliments, saying how he should go into art, that other people deserve to see it, and just how good they were.

And while Connor hated to admit it, he missed Miguel. A lot. He soon began to feel guilty about running out of his life (quite literally, mind you), so he texted a number that would've been long forgotten about.

|Connor|- I miss you, M

|Miguel|- Connor?

|Connor|- you told me a long time ago you wanted answers. Do you still do?

|Miguel|- well of course I do, but what brought this on? Is everything okay?

|Connor|- I don't wanna talk about it through something someone can just look down at my phone on. Can we meet up and talk then?

|Miguel|- is Caribou ok?

|Connor|- fuck yeah it is. Can we meet like.. around eleven thirty? That's when everyone's out of the house and I don't want them pestering me about why I'm leaving

|Miguel|- I'm free all of tomorrow so it works.

|Connor|- got it. Thanks, M

|Miguel|- of course, Connor.

|Miguel|- and... if it means anything, I miss you too...

Connor left him on 'read'. There was no turning back now.