Waving Through a Window (Connor Murphy X Reader)

Confession

"So, how bad was it today?" I asked Connor while pulling my Altoids tin out of my pocket. He watched me carefully, his own blunt between his lips, and I lit mine. 

"What do you think?" My eyes softened and I rolled up my sleeve, revealing his name which was still on my arm since it was permanent marker and I always made a half assed attempt of washing it off when I was in the shower, not really wanting it off my arm yet. 

"Just remember," I lifted my arm so he had full view of his own name on my it. "You've got me, and as long as I'm here, you still have someone fighting for, not against, you," He only stared at the writing for a second, his head looking blank, before he nodded numbly and shut his eyes. 

"Right," He kept nodding, like he was trying to convince himself. "Right,"

I took in a big breath, trying to give myself some confidence for what I was going to do next. I stepped forward, only being a couple feet away from Connor at that point, and placed a hand on his cheek softly. He opened his eyes, looking like a deer in headlights. I noticed he was not breathing, either. 

"Connor," I said sternly, basically forcing him to keep eye contact. "I'm here for you. I'll fight for you until there's no one left to fight. You got that?" It was less of a question, and more of a demand. He stood still, like a statue, for a moment, before shaking my hand off of his face and stepping away. 

"Why do you care, anyway? You've only known me for what, two weeks?" He sounded angry. 

"I see some of Evan in you. You're misunderstood and just need some support as you try to fight your own head," Connors brows furrowed. 

"So I remind you of your fucked up brother, that definitely makes me feel better," I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as I puffed out in his face, him waving his hands in his face frantically.

"You don't remind me of him, your mental shit is just similar," Connor rolled his eyes and huffed, blowing his own smoke in my face like I had to him. 

We stood in silence while we smoked, and I started to stare at the blunt between his fingers. I noticed that the only interactions we had, other than the visit in the hospital, were with us getting high. 

Him and I were pretty similar, if you thought about it. Or maybe you didn't have to think about it at all. Either way, I didn't know why he tried to push me away like he did. It always seemed to be me that would sought out interactions. I did not mind too much, but would be lying if I said it did not bother me at all.

I wished he didn't try to push me away. I liked him more than he knew, or at least I hoped that he did not know yet. Actually, I was not sure if I did hope that or not. Maybe it was just instinct to hope that your crush doesn't know that you like them, because if I thought about it, I actually didn't mind if he did know. Maybe a little, because if he hadn't said anything about it, then he probably didn't like me back. It's not like that situation was the end of the world, either, though.

I decided that I was tired of being pushed away. I looked up at Connor, the small bit of the blunt hung loosely between his lips. His eyes looked harshly at the ground, almost as if he wanted to dig a hole and die in it. Or maybe put someone else in it. I hoped I was not the one he was  mentally burying alive. 

I guess he noticed my staring, because he looked up, and our eyes locked on each other. He looked as if he would pounce any second, and I wouldn't doubt it. He was in a vulnerable state, and I felt bad for how selfish what I was about to do was, but hey, no one is perfect. I was far from it, actually. 

I let my mind go blank as I let the words flow from my mouth. 

"If I have the possibility of losing you, I guess I should confess that I like you, huh?"

I didn't have any regrets. If he got upset, he'd get upset. If he rejected me and things were awkward from here on out, then it just would be. I was tired of the game we were playing. It was time to end it.

My world didn't stop as I awaited his response like some stupid anime trope, but it almost seemed like his did. I found it quite dramatic, but was patient with him and that shocked expression that was superglued on his face. I waited as his eyes stared into mine, almost unblinking, almost as if waiting for me to say it was a prank. I never said it, of course. I was almost tempted, just to mess with him. That would have been cruel though.

"You've got to be joking, right?" He asked, a strange tone of voice. I was not sure what he was feeling. He was hard to read sometimes. Only sometimes though.

He started to get easier to read as the seconds ticked by. One second. His fist clenched. Two. His jaw then followed. Three. His back straightened. Four. If looks could kill, I would've been dead. Five. He was close. Too close. He was in my face, angry. 

Six.

"Is this some sick joke to you?" He was growling, teeth bared, almost yelling. His blue eyes bore into my e/c ones. I was not scared, as most people might have been. I just waited. 

I guess stoic was not the reaction he wanted from me, because he growled one last time, and stomped away, ignoring the school bell as it rang and walking to his car instead.