Treebros Fanfiction

5

(Please keep in mind that Im editing this book and changing it to fit my current writing style. If you've read this before, you may remember some details that aren't in it anymore. For example, if you remember Sam and how much you hated him, I'm making him worse now. With that said, ⚠️TW for drug use and SA)

(Connor's POV) 

I leave shortly after making Evan go, choosing to circle the house from the backyard instead of going inside, where I would have inevitably been met with questions about where I was going. 

I light another cigarette as I walk, unbothered by the heavy humidity of a stubbornly lingering summer. 

Okay, so I'm addicted to nicotine. So what? I'm addicted to a lot of shit. 

Like how I'm addicted to my boyfriend; no matter what he does to me, I always end up going back to him. 

And so I find myself standing outside Sam's front door, flicking the end of my cigarette into the potted plant that's never been watered. I knock on the door, hoping he isn't home but also internally begging for contact with him. 

The door swings open and there he is, looking down at me- I'm six feet tall, by the way, so just imagine how fucking tall he is. His mouth curls into a cocky smile that I'm in love with and scared of at the same exact time.

"Connor," he greets fondly. "You're out of the hospital." 

I nod. "Yeah, I got out yesterday." 

He steps back, holding the door open so I can go inside. "And it took you this long to come over?"

I shrug, chuckling awkwardly. "Yeah, Cynthia's been all over me. Everyone thinks I was tryna kill myself, so... "

He pushes the door shut and strides into his living room, where he sits down on his sofa. "Weren't you?" He gestures for me to sit as well.

I remain standing, letting my gaze drift to the unused syringes on the coffee table. "Um... No, actually, I accidentally overdosed. No intent behind it at all... " I point at the coffee table, deviating from the subject at hand. "Are you having people over? 'Cause I can leave if you're busy." 

He shakes his head, gesturing for me to sit down again. "I am havin' people over, but you don't gotta leave. You can stay. I want you to stay." 

I sit down. 

---

I momentarily feel ill as I'm struck with the sensation of falling. My back hits a threadbare mattress and I hear myself laugh even though on the inside it feels like I'm drowning. I don't know what I took. 

The mattress dips as someone joins me on the bed. I feel lips ghosting over mine and I don't know what I took but I can't see who it is. Someone grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress on either side of my head. My long hair is trapped under my hands and it pulls and stings when I try to move my head.

The rough hands release my wrists and move to glide under my shirt and over my legs and on my face and they're pulling my hair and they're grabbing me and they're pulling me and pushing me and I don't know who it is.

I want to believe that it's Sam, that it's someone who loves me, but there are so many people in this house and it's dark in here and I can't see and I don't know what I took and it feels like it's someone who hates me, someone who wants to hurt me more than I already want to hurt myself and an uncomfortable gust of cold air hits my chest as my shirt is pulled off and my sleeves lightly graze the angry red scars on my arms. I hear grunting and moaning and I don't know if it's me or if it's them or if it's both of us but it sounds so close and I can feel their breath on my face.