FireFly

Chapter Eleven

It was six o'clock in the evening and for most families that meant dinner time and discussing each other's days.

Not for the Murphy household.

Larry was upstairs in his office, Zoe was round a friends house, Cynthia was in the kitchen flicking through a vegan cooking magazine and usually Connor would be out getting into trouble or passed out in his room.

That's exactly what he would be doing right now if it wasn't for Evan and his idea to come out to their mums.

So that's what had gotten Connor here, hovering nervously in the kitchen doorway, waiting for the right moment to make his presence known.

"Hey Cynthia," He said awkwardly when he'd finally built up the balls to speak.

"Connor, hi baby." She spoke as if talking to a wild animal that'd run off if she raised her voice and he fucking hated that.

Why was he spoken to differently? Why was he treated differently? Like a little kid that needed to be saved from himself, it was ridiculous. He was already pissed off and they hadn't even started a goddamn conversation yet!

"Um," he shuffled into the room and leaned against the desktop. Something about this reminded him all too much of when he'd tried to get to the medicine cabinet. Again. But he wasn't going to think about that, this was about Connor and Evan and them being happy. Together. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course!" Cynthia rushed to say, "Do you want a cup of tea? Or we could go into the living room-"

"I'm fine." He replied quickly, "Here's fine."

"Okay." She nodded, slowly. "Whenever you're ready."

Connor took a deep breath and tightened up the hair tie on his messily tied up bun, "Did you know I'm gay?" He asked.

If Cynthia was surprised she did a fucking good job hiding it, her facial expression didn't falter whatsoever and he was sort of grateful for that, "No, Connor I didn't. I don't really know you that well."

Connor sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. That hurt. He could feel everything inside of him that actually wanted to make an effort with this leave his body entirely, and the part of him that hoped for acceptance was gone. Now he just didn't care. And it scared him how quickly that could happen.

"That's not my fault." He shot back, sharp but quietly.

She purses her lips together tightly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Not entirely.

"Yes."

"Oh."

She seemed disappointed.

"What did you expect?" He asked.

Cynthia sighed wistfully and blinked rapidly, getting rid of the tears that were quick to brew, "Honestly, I thought you were going to tell me how those therapy sessions were going. You've been to a few now and I haven't heard anything from you, I..." she trailed off and turned around to face out the window. Connor knew it was because she was crying but he couldn't find it within himself to keep himself from falling apart and comfort his mother.

"I don't want to talk about those." He mumbled, crossing his arms protectively around himself.

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***

"Well I need to!" She exclaimed, voice strong. "You are my son, like it or not, and I need to know you're not going to run up those stairs and hold a razor to yourself, or something worse! I need to know that I can leave you at home whilst you're alone and not be constantly worried that I'm going to come home to a dead body! I need you to not cry yourself to sleep every night, to not run out at all hours of the day to take drugs, to not cut yourself because I'm not stupid, Connor, I see the bloody tissues in the bin! Just stop hating yourself, why is that so hard?! I don't understand."

Connor sighed, he couldn't be bothered. He couldn't be bothered to fight back, to argue, to scream, punch something, to do anything! It hurt. Of course it hurt. But it wasn't the normal kind of hurt. It wasn't bleeding, you couldn't see it, you can't put a plaster or an ice pack on it, it won't leave a bruise. This was a hurt that would leave you gasping for breath through all the tears, this was a hurt that would keep you up at night, it was one that you could feel right from the depth of your chest. A heavy weight on you constantly, it never leaves, you can't or don't remember how it got there, why it's there or when it's going to go away.

This was a mental illness.

And Connor had been stuck with this hurt for such a long time that it became a part of himself. So, no, he wasn't going to go storming up to his room, slamming doors, breaking furniture and punching walls like he normally would. He wasn't going to do that because he was numb. All over. It was an icy cold, lonely feeling of numbness.

It made him want to scream from the top of his lungs, made him want to be rescued by somebody, but as much as he wanted to do all of these things, he didn't care about them more.

And that's the side that always won.

*** TRIGGER WARNING OVER ***

He did the only reasonable thing he could think of, turning on his heel, going up to his room down the hall and flopping onto his bed until the bliss relief of sleep finally dragged him in.

Connor wasn't going to tell Evan how badly his coming out had gone. First of all, he didn't even get to the part about who he was in a relationship with and second of all, Evan would only blame himself since it was his idea and Connor couldn't handle a more self loathing Evan than usual right now.

So when the blonde asked how it went, Connor was going to be as good a boyfriend as he knew how and tell the him it went okay.

Because that's what you do when you're numb and full of all this hurt, you lie until that lie comes true.

______________

Double update!!!!

How was Cynthia's reaction??

P.s when I was writing about what mental illness felt like - that was completely genuine and was coming from a time of my own struggles so I know what it feels like and if any of you ever want to talk my PM's are always there <3

Iris
Xoxo