FireFly

Chapter Twenty Six

Connor shifted in the familiar uncomfortable chair of Paul Heere's office. He chipped at his black nail varnish whilst Paul flicked through pages and pages of a folder.

A folder for him. An entire file filled with all the shit Connor had told him or had tried not to tell him but it had come out anyway. His childhood, his memories, his relationships with everyone he'd ever met. But then there were his triggers, his hospital records that Cynthia had given to Paul, his coping mechanisms, his weaknesses. Basically everything that Connor hated about himself, everything that he tried to hide away, that monster that was deep deep down inside of him, was all written down neatly in that file with a fountain tip pen.

And Connor wanted it to burn.

"Connor I know what I'm going to say next may be an uncomfortable topic for you," Paul began, almost hesitantly, "I want you to know that you can tell me to shut up and I will. But your mum mentioned to me that you recently just got out of hospital-"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Of course she fucking did." He could almost laugh. Because why was anything a secret? What did he expect? He was a depressed, bipolar, junkie so of course nothing that happened to him ever remained private for very long.

"Do you want to tell me about what happened?" He prodded, gently.

Connor sighed, he was getting fed up with telling this story.

No, truth. He was getting fed up with telling the truth, because it wasn't a story. A story would suggest that he'd made the whole thing up and that definitely wasn't the case.

Right?

"I had a migraine. I took too many painkillers and accidentally got aspirin poisoning." He repeated for the hundredth time in a monotone sort of voice.

"You've never mentioned having migraines before." Paul pointed out, confusedly. Connor could feel the tension build up in his muscles and he clenched his jaw hard because there was no way he was going to let that monster show. Not in front of Paul, not again, because it'll all go down in that stupid fucking file.

Instead he simply shrugged, "Never seemed important. It only really happens when I'm stressed."

"And what were you stressed about?"

"I don't remember."

Paul sighed and leaned forwards in his chair, "I want you to be very honest with me, because this is for your own safety. Was this a suicide attempt?"

Connor bit the inside of his cheek almost painfully hard. No, it wasn't! Why was that so hard for everyone to understand? Just because he'd tried before, it doesn't mean anything. That was in the past and he had Evan now and he would never leave Evan alone in this cruel, unforgiving, miserable world because he knew that Evan needed him as much as he needed Evan.

His brown/blue eyes hardened as he spoke in a very calmed and controlled manner even though his voice was shaking, "No, it wasn't an attempt."

"Even if it was, it's okay because you're still alive and you're still here trying to get help. I just need to know in case you need someone watching you."

"I don't need someone watching me." He snapped. "I don't fucking need to be watched and looked after and sent to fucking therapy to get 'fixed'" and oh shit, here it was. The side of him he truly, truly, hated, "I don't need fucking medication or help because I am fine!" He yelled, insisted, pleaded, screamed, desperately.

And before he even knew what was happening, he stormed out of Paul's office vowing he'd never fucking go back. Hell, he stormed out of the fucking building all together and he walked over to his car and just fucking drove.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He screamed once he'd hit a red light, pounding his fists against the leather steering wheel. This was it, he'd really gone ahead and done it now. He could just picture it already, Cynthia's disappointment so obvious in her face and in her voice as she would say "Oh, but I thought those therapy sessions were really working." And Larry would glare at him and shout about all the money they'd wasted on him because he was a lost cause and no amount of money would ever be enough to fix his stupid, mentally ill, lazy son. And Zoe, oh god Zoe, she'd be the worst of them all, she would never say it to his face but the heartbreak would be written all over her face as she cried silent tears because she'd finally realise that her older brother, the one who'd given her piggybacks and marked their heights on the wall and distracted her when their parents were fighting, was never coming back. Because he was gone and he had been gone for a long time but now he was so fucking far away that Connor just didn't have the energy to keep chasing after him.

And then he knocked on Evan's front door, because for some reason his body had decided to take him here. Even though he didn't want to be here and never wanted for Evan to see him like this. Sobbing, red eyed, defeated, snot on his face, throat hurting from when he had dry heaved in his car from the sheer panic and ridiculousness of it all.

The door opened and Evan stood in the doorway looking confused, he had on his grey tracksuit bottoms and a soft blue sweatshirt on and everything about him just screamed "Home!" to Connor.

He didn't even give Evan a chance to speak before throwing his arms round his boyfriends neck and sobbing into his shoulder, which he had to bend down for considering how tall Connor was compared to Evan but he didn't care. He was uncomfortable but he didn't care because he felt safe in Evan's arms.

"C-Connor?" The blonde stuttered in shock that his tough, reckless boyfriend had been reduced to a sobbing mess right in front of him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Everything." He chocked, "I fucked up everything."

"E-Everything?"

Connor pulled away and roughly wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his black hoodie as he explained what had happened in Paul's office to Evan.

***TRIGGER WARNING***

"Fuck!" He sighed frustratedly, pulling at his hair when he had finished, "I need to-"

"No." Evan interrupted strongly. Because he knew Connor better than he knew himself and he knew that the long haired boy was about to say how much he longed to grab a razor or a knife, "We're going t-to take a deep breath, go up t-to my room, get s-some blankets and watch a-a movie and I'm going to stay by your side and y-you can cry and s-squeeze my hand until this feeling g-goes away."

And normally Connor would argue with him or say how stupid that was but it actually sounded perfect right now, so he nodded and stepped inside the house so Evan could shut the door.

The two boys made their way up to Evan's room, Evan was gathering snacks and blankets and was flicking through movies to watch whilst Connor was in the bathroom wiping his tear stained face.

Connor came out the bathroom and took a deep, shaky breath. He could do this. He didn't need to cut because Evan was here and Evan meant he was safe, he walked into the bedroom and couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly and he saw the blonde surrounded by pillows and blankets.

"Comfy?" He teased, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Evan nodded and patted the space next to him, Connor sighed heavily and made a big show of how much effort it was to walk over to his boyfriend. He flopped down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Evan's waist and covering both of their legs with a fluffy beige blanket.

"Are y-you safe?" Evan whispered, his hand finding Connor's and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Connor nodded and squeezed back, the desperate itch of needing to cut was still there but it wasn't a roaring scream into his ear, it was more of an irritating hum but he found himself willing to live with it because he was exhausted and it was all he could do to close his eyes and fall asleep.

***TRIGGER WARNING OVER AND SO IS THE CHAPTER BUT YOU DIDN'T REALLY MISS ANYTHING, CONNOR AND EVAN JUST GO UP TO EVANS BEDROOM TO CUDDLE AND BE WITH EACH OTHER***