-Collide-

~7~

Being nervous would barely scratch the surface as to how Connor currently felt.

He was down right terrified and anxious, because he hadn't seen Miguel all summer, and was starting to dread asking to see him.

The unreasonable part of him was telling him "he only agreed to this so you'd leave him alone", but the other part was like "no. He said he misses you. That has to mean something,". Connor knew Miguel, but he didn't know how he'd handle this. He was expecting anger, quite frankly, because that's how he'd react. Then again, Miguel was extremely kind and understanding, so he'd hoped Miguel would maintain his composure.

He sipped the hot chocolate he'd purchased (he liked it year round, sue him), before retracting and hissing in pain as it was still hot. He set it aside and checked his phone for any messages.

Connor wanted this to be casual, so he was wearing a dark blue, long sleeved shirt, with some surprisingly un-torn jeans. He didn't know why he dressed so nicely, like he wanted to impress him or show that he was perfectly fine.

Just before the clock changed to eleven thirty, Miguel had arrived, and was heading towards the outside table Connor was at. Miguel's skin tone was like a smoothed out wooden carving from a tree, with black, short hair. He was wearing a white shirt with a blue vest, and jeans as well.

Connor suddenly felt overdressed.

"Hey, Connor," Miguel greeted him, sitting across the table from him.

Connor swallowed a lump in his throat. "Hi... Miguel."

"It's certainly... been a while. Um, how are you?" Miguel shifted awkwardly.

Connor let out a sigh. "Not the best, but that's mainly because I feel guilty about... leaving you without explaining myself so... that's what I'm gonna do now."

Miguel simply nodded, ready to listen.

Connor took a deep breath, and shut his eyes, bracing himself. He then opened them, and looked directly at Miguel. "I'm suicidal and I have anxiety. I also have bipolar, which makes me... pretty unpredictable. I'm not pretty when I'm mad, and I've hurt a lot of people because of it, including you." He then stopped, to let Miguel take this in.

Miguel was frowning, "Go on."

"With everything wrong with me, I didn't want you getting mixed up in my shit. I was just... so scared that if you saw it, you'd just... run. That you'd leave me and I'd be alone again," Connor looked away from him.

"Connor... I wouldn't have run," Miguel said softly, gazing at him.

Connor rubbed his nose, "I think apart of me thought so... but anxiety is a fucking prick and blows things out of proportion... It doesn't justify what I did, I just thought I'd finally tell you..."

Miguel stayed silent for moment. Then, he spoke up, "Thank you, Connor. For clearing this up."

Connor smiled bitterly, "Let me guess, this is the part where you tell me you don't want me back. It's okay, I can take it."

Miguel ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not just that, Connor. You always put yourself down, saying stuff like 'I don't deserve you' or 'You're way too good for me'. I didn't like it. I still don't. Granted I know why now, but... it made me feel shitty, being unable to help. Besides, you didn't always communicate properly."

"Sorry," Connor ducked his head.

"It's- it's fine, I wanna move just... let that go so we can talk about what's wrong. You seemed off yesterday, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't freak out a little," Miguel stated.

"Well... I made a new friend this summer but... I'm scared that the same thing that happened to you and me will happen to us," he sighed.

"Well tell me about them. I can't give proper advice if I don't know anything about them," Miguel offered.

Connor started to talk about Evan briefly, about how he was a nature nerd, had anxiety, was very nice and patient, and liked writing. He accidentally let it slip that he crashed his car in an attempt to hurt himself on the day they met. Of course, Miguel was concerned about this.

"You can't just brush something like this aside, Connor!" Miguel fretted, looking for any visible scars or scratches.

"It's not like anyone noticed..." Connor chewed on his lip. "But that's just cause I made it believable."

"You should tell someone... well, more qualified than me," Miguel reached over and out a hand in his shoulder.

"Maybe..." Connor muttered. "They'd change my meds again, though..."

"I know it'd suck, but it'd be for the best," Miguel tried, and patted his shoulder.

"Should I just... go talk to him? After I tried so hard not to see him?" Connor began to mess with the hair tie on his wrist.

"I think he deserves an explanation. He sounds like he has the patience of a saint," Miguel assured him.

"I really like him, Miguel... I don't want to loose him," Connor said softly, his voice wavering with vulnerability.

"If you're honest with him, then you won't," he squeezed his shoulder, before letting go of him.

"I still think he'll just run away," Connor looked at Miguel again, before sighing, "But I trust you."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like this Evan," Miguel teased him.

Connor blushed at his comment, but didn't say anything.

"Wait, holy shit. Do you actually-?"

"It's just a crush," he protested. "Nothing serious."

"You fall so hard, Murphy," Miguel chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Don't let Evan hurt you, and don't hurt him. And if for some reason, he does run, fuck him."

Connor grinned at the familiar phrase. "What if he like, actually likes me, though."

"Then fuck him," Miguel smirked at him.

Connor bursted out laughing, and shoved Miguel's shoulder. "You're seriously so fucking nasty!" Then, he went quiet for a moment, before asking, "Hey, there's no hard feelings between us, right?"

"No hard feelings," Miguel agreed. "Stay in touch, alright? You're still my best friend."

"Of course, M. I'll make more of an effort this time. Promise," Connor stood up. He felt a lot better after talking about this.

"And you need to text me if you're... feeling shitty, or whatever. That isn't a suggestion! It's a demand!" Miguel smiled, watching him.

Connor laughed, "Got it, M!"

He left that Caribou with a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He had a feeling things might just be okay.