Treebros Fanfiction

11

(Connor's POV)

I drive around aimlessly after dropping Evan off at his house, trying not to think about what he said. 

I know that Sam's a bad person, okay? I know that he's bad for me, and that he's way too old for me, and that it's wrong that we're together, but I genuinely do not care. We have aligning interests, so it works out just fine. At the end of the day, we're both getting what we want. 

And that's why my aimless wandering stops at his house tonight. I'm feeling too much right now, and he's really fucking good at making me feel absolutely nothing. 

~~~~

(Zoe's POV) 

The sound of the front door slamming wakes me up. Through bleary-eyed vision, I check the time on my phone, sighing irately at the bright 2:46 on my lockscreen. Luckily, it's Sunday and I don't have to get up early for school. I shut my phone off and close my eyes, trying to go back to sleep.

My attempt to sleep is rudely interrupted just seconds later by haphazard footsteps running their way up the stairs. I shut my eyes tightly, expecting the footsteps to find their way to my door, but they never do. Instead, I hear the bathroom door slam shut.

I sit bolt upright in bed. Something must really be wrong if that asshole is barricading himself into a room instead of making it everyone else's problem. 

I get up out of bed and leave my room, throwing a blanket over my shoulders to combat the night chill. 

"Connor?" I say to the bathroom door, quietly so as to not wake up our miraculously still sleeping parents.

"I'm fine," I hear him whisper in response, though it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself of that. "I'm fine." 

"You don't sound fine, can you open the door?" Even while I'm saying this, my hand gravitates toward the doorknob. When I try to twist the knob and open the door, panic sets in as I find that it's locked. "Connor, unlock the door!" 

"No, it's... I'm okay." He sounds a little distant, like he's moved further away from the door. I hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, followed closely by the sound of rattling and falling. "Fuck!" 

"What are you doing?" I demand, shaking the doorknob more as I automatically assume the worst. I told Mom that we should have put a lock on the medicine cabinet! I told her, and she said we didn't need one! "Connor, please don't-" 

"I'm not looking for drugs, Zoe, I'm looking for bandaids!" he yells, and the door shakes with the weight of a punch he throws at it.

"They're not even in there!" I hiss at him. "They're in the hall closet. Why do you even need-" I cut myself off as the distinct sound of a lock clicking rings out in the air.

The bathroom door opens just a little bit.

"Could you go get me the bandaids from the hall closet?" he asks quietly. "Please."

"No, get them yourself." I don't know why he thought that suddenly developing manners would get me to do stuff for him, but he's dead wrong.

The door opens fully and before I can even comprehend that I'm looking at him, he pushes past me. My gaze falls on the bathroom sink, where drops of red clash angrily with the white marble countertop.

Oh. That's blood. 

I turn around and grab Connor's arm to prevent him from moving any further. I look down and discover- to my horror- that I am clutching his bloodied arm. I let go in an instant, backing up and trying not to focus too much on the feeling of blood staining my hand.