FicWad

“And this is your room. This is Dave, he’ll be your roommate.”

Connor stared at the woman with the cheery smile who had been leading him around all day. Connor was genuinely fantasizing about smashing the lamp in the room in the floor and jabbing a jagged piece into her jugular just for the chance that he might get some fucking quiet for a few minutes.

He’d spent the last few days alternating between shaking like a Chiuaua with a migraine and getting sick at every possible opportunity, but apparently now that he was finished barfing every few hours, the people in charge thought it was time to move him out into the general population. He was not happy about this. He frankly didn’t think he fucking belonged here until he started dry heaving because he’d thrown up everything in his stomach already. Two days in. They’d trapped him in a room with some kid named Jason who seemed to have it a lot worse than Connor with the whole detox situation; he started crying for his mom at one point. Connor might be dealing with the fact that he ate more pills than meals lately but at least he wasn’t that pathetic.

“I’ll let you get settled,” The cheerful idiot said, turning and leaving Connor standing there and with his moronic roller suitcase and a pounding headache. “Lights out at ten.”

Connor shoved his bag under the bed and immediately collapsed onto the stiff twin mattress. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep more than he even wanted to take something.

“So… they’re letting twelve year olds in here now?”

Connor turned his head to look at this lumberjack in his room. He was way too big for the room, the bed, the universe. The guy had a bunch of tattoos; Connor could see an owl tattoo and weirdly felt like it was watching him.

He didn’t answer this guy. He closed his eyes instead.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Connor genuinely wanted to throw up at the idea that this guy was still fucking talking. He just wanted to not think for twenty minutes and this idiot was running his mouth. Connor couldn’t even catch a break at fucking rehab. “Connor. It’s Connor. Please stop talking.”

“He speaks!”

“ Please .”

“What are you in for anyway?”

Connor turned to glare at this chatterbox. “Aren’t you like… not supposed to ask that?”

“It’s not prison, ” Dave said, laughing a little. “Booze and pills mostly for me. Started with booze, of course. My hands were mad shaky at first, which was a huge pain since I literally need them for work. I’m a -”

“God, do you not know how to take a hint?” Connor said, pulling the pillow on the bed over his head which was still pounding. “Shut up and leave me alone.”

“How sick have you been, then? Managed to keep any food down? I’ve got vending machine privileges, I could sneak you something if you need.”

“For fuck’s sake, please leave me alone.” He’d spent days throwing up; food was not an option.

Dave laughed. “Alright, princess, but only because I can tell you need your beauty sleep.”



Dave the chatty lumberjack talked in his sleep. Because of course he never shut up.

Connor knew this because it was four in the morning and he couldn’t manage to sleep. He felt like shit . His head was killing him, his stomach was twisted in knots, and now there was the sort of daunting reality that his parents had dropped him off here. Which meant his parents knew, which meant Zoe knew, which meant…

The thought made his stomach hurt.

He ought to have just swallowed the whole bottle last time.

He swung his legs over the bed, deciding he was so fucking out of here. This was just a massive waste of money. He didn’t want to be alive let alone sober . His parents were morons; Zoe was the only one with the right idea. He’d heard her shouting at their mom the morning they set off on this little rehab adventure, saying that they should just let him kill himself if that’s what he wanted.

The first time they’d agreed on anything in years.

Connor crawled out of bed, thinking he’d just use the bathroom first and then get the hell out of here. He wasn’t eighteen yet, but maybe he could just lay low for the rest of the summer and avoid being sent back. Maybe they’d send him off to his grandma’s again, like last summer. That wasn’t so bad. Mostly just housework and yard work. He could practically hear her yelling at him for mowing the lawn in eighty degree weather still wearing a hoodie, but it wasn’t like he was going to take it off. His grandma didn’t look at him like the rest of the family, at least. Like she was scared of him.

At least she didn’t until she realized her bottle of prescription painkillers had disappeared. But he was back at home by then.

Connor walked out into the hallway, internally thinking that if his parents were going to spend the ridiculous amount of money they were, they might as well have sprung for a place with private bathrooms. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and set off, not totally sure where the bathroom was in the semi dark hall. He should have put his glasses on, because he was pretty sure he’d taken out his contacts a couple of days ago… but he frankly wasn’t sure that he’d even packed his glasses. His mom might have been screaming her head off at him, but she hadn’t been watching him when he escaped to the bathroom to snort a crushed up pill and hide the rest of his stash.

Connor eventually found the bathroom, and locked himself in a stall to pee because public restrooms were never a wise place to be when you looked like human scarecrow, he’d learned. When stepped out of the stall to wash his hands, Connor was annoyed to find that guy Jason was also in there, splashing water on his face and (thankfully) no longer crying for his mommy.

“Oh. You again.”

Connor stared. He really didn’t… people.

“Withdrawal is the fucking worst. And I can’t even try to jerk off to feel better. No god damn privacy.”

Connor had no fucking clue what to do with that.

“Unless you want to help me out? Since we’re alone in here.”

Connor probably looked like an idiot with the way he just. Didn’t. React. He sort of wished he could disappear on the spot.

Admittedly, it was probably fitting for his shitty life that he’d have his first ever kiss with a stranger in the men’s room in rehab. He didn’t even… know for sure if he was…

Whatever.

They were interrupted in their makeout session after about ten minutes or ten years, Connor wasn’t sure. Jason had a point - at least it distracted him.

But of course Chatty Dave was the one who walked in as Jason wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, winked at Connor, and left without a word.

Dave sighed. “That kid was here when I got here. Graduated. And now he’s back again? Sucks.” He shook his head. “You two know each other?”

Connor shrugged. “Not really.”

“Huh.” Dave said, heading off toward a urinal. “Be careful around him.”

“Yeah whatever, thanks.” Connor rushed out of the bathroom before he had to watch this chatterbox take a piss. He’d probably describe it to Connor and ask to compare, like, color and smell or what the fuck ever.

No thank you.

Connor walked back to the room they’d stuck him in and threw himself in the bed, pretending immediately to be asleep so Dave wouldn’t talk to him.



He had been there two weeks when he was required, for whatever reason, to have therapy with his family.

Connor tried to find a thousand ways out of it. He plead that his parents were busy. He plead that he hated them. He tried to fake food poisoning the morning of the meeting.

His individual therapist, a very tired looking woman called Rebecca, kept pursing her lips. Connor had a feeling if he kept this up, she’d quit.

Good.

So Connor and Rebecca waited for his parents to show up in the middle of a Friday afternoon. Zoe was supposed to come, but Connor knew she wasn’t showing. He told Rebecca this, at least three times, and she kept insisting that he shouldn’t be dismissive.

His mom showed up on time. Frowning, saying that Zoe was under the weather.

His dad didn’t turn up until ten minutes after they were supposed to get started, looking frustrated and checking his phone as he walked into the building. He looked annoyed with Rebecca’s bland smile as she ushered them all into a room with a couch and two chairs. Connor threw himself into a chair and didn’t look at anyone.

“Mr. Murphy, if you wouldn’t mind turning off your phone? We’d like it if everyone could be present for this session.”

Connor thought Larry was going to hit her. He almost smiled at the idea.

“What are you smirking about?” Larry snapped, perfect, this was exactly how Connor had imagined this meeting going.

It was a disaster. Just a total disaster. Larry kept asking what the point of the session was, grumbling about work, and how much this was costing him. “Twenty thousand dollars, and so far all I’ve heard is that he went to a yoga class once. ”

Connor crossed his arms. He had gone to yoga. Once. He was avoiding his fucking roommate, and he didn’t even really participate. “If you don’t want to pay for this then take me home,” He said, glaring at Larry.

His mom’s face went pale, and she tried to smooth that over, embarrassed that Rebecca the rehab therapist was seeing them all hate each other. Like she hadn’t seen worse. “Honey we want you to get better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Connor protested, the back of his neck heating up. “I’ve shitty parents, so what?”

“Connor, this isn’t productive,” Rebecca said, frowning. “I understand you’re frustrated because you were sent here without consenting -”

“That’s not true,” His mom said, suddenly. Connor felt a dip in his stomach; she looked like she might cry. “We… we didn’t send him here without…. Connor, honey, you asked us for help.”

“No I didn’t,” Connor said, rolling his eyes.

“You did,” His mom insisted. “The first night you came back home after you disappeared, you said that you needed help…”

“Well obviously he doesn’t want it now,” Larry said, sounding exasperated.

“I never wanted it!”

“Connor, sweetheart,” His mom tried, but Connor was so done. He clenched his hands into fists, thumbs outside, and stared at the ceiling, tuning them all out, not really there, not feeling this or much of anything at all. It wasn’t real. The whole thing.



The Jason thing kept happening. For a place that boasted it would keep people clean and healthy, they sure didn’t seem to notice that Connor was making out with a fellow tweaker all over the place. Jason had been there before; Jason knew people who could get him pills and booze. His rehab was court ordered.

For the most part, Connor talked very little. He knew he wasn’t good at whatever it was they were doing, but he’d never had anyone take an interest in him before and it was. Weird. Nice. A distraction from the fact that he wanted to die and was trapped.

One night, not long after he’d been given his room assignment, Connor walked back into his room only to be blinded by the light of the lamp that Dave-the-lumberjack switched on. “Where have you been?”

“Fuck you.”

“That Jason kid has a deathwish. He was in my group the first week I was here. He managed to blow ninety days sober in a week and land back here. They had to pump his stomach last time.”

“So?”

“So… quit hanging around him. Trust me. I’ve had friends like that before, and it’s so not worth it.”

Connor toed off his shoes and climbed into bed, still dressed. “Fuck off.”



Everywhere Connor went, Dave was there.

Group therapy? Dave was there, talking away about his tendency to drink instead of feel things.

Free time? Dave, happily chatting with the other tweakers on the same couch, friendly and cheerful and annoying as fuck.

His room, the bathroom, outside smoking.

Connor couldn’t go anywhere without turning around to find Dave. And it was really really getting on his nerves. His nerves were shot too, so Connor didn’t know if he ought to be impressed at how easily Dave’s cheerfulness had gotten under his skin or pissed off that he was so irritable.

The only thing keeping him from trying to drown himself in the shower was the slight possibility of attention from Jason. Which he knew was just. Pathetic. The guy wasn’t even, like, that cute. He looked like a junkie. He looked like hell. Sometimes when they kissed, Connor could swear he tasted sulfur.

But it was the first time that anyone had been interested in kissing him and probably the last time anyone ever would so. He just kind of. Went with it.

He didn’t know how old Jason was. Or if he had any diseases, which was actually a concern in the back of Connor’s mind because apparently he hadn’t slept through all of ninth grade health class and now he was a little troubled by the idea that Jason might have HIV. Not that Connor especially cared what happened to him, but he thought, well, his parents would definitely be pissed if that was the way he ended up. Not that they were having sex, but Jason certainly seemed interested in pushing things in that direction...

Connor was mulling all of this over, staring down at the bland turkey sandwich he had been served for lunch and half missing the cafeteria at school because then at least he could ditch the sandwich and get high in the bathroom.

He idly scratched his arm.

That was the other thing.

This place didn’t seem to have a single sharp edge in it. Baby proofed. Junkie-proofed. It was driving him up the wall, frying his already shot nerves, making him seriously consider the pros and cons of smashing a mirror just for the three seconds of…

“Murphy.”

Dave was fucking smiling at him again. “What.”

“Are you going to eat or just play with your food?” He asked, smiling easily. He took a bite of his own sandwich. “Seriously, you look like a scarecrow. You should eat that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sometimes, when I get tired of all of this organic, flaxseed bullshit health food, I straight up pretend it’s Chipotle. Helps.”

Connor shook his head in disgust. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Dave shrugged which just pissed Connor right off. There wasn’t even a reason that this clown was bothering him. Brilliant. He shoved his plate away and put his head down on the table, trying to ignore the dull roar starting to build behind his eyes like television static or snow or little flakes of styrofoam. He felt kind of sick. He felt kind of like breaking his hand on Dave’s face.

Connor dejectedly followed Dave to group therapy, perhaps the most bullshit of all of the crap he had to put up with in this fucking place. Maybe not the most bullshit. His individual therapist Rebecca was clueless as hell and kept trying to get him to talk about his childhood like it was going to uncover some deeply held secret that made him want to take drugs.

There was no secret. He’d been a miserable motherfucker for as long as he could remember. Tada. Mystery solved. Some people were just built wrong.

His therapy group was talking about some big event; Tina was graduating. Connor didn’t know who Tina was. They’d been in this group together for all of thirty seconds. She apparently managed sixty days without sucking dick for meth. Go Tina.

But people were having a lot of feelings about Tina’s departure, feelings that Connor couldn’t really even feign an interest in, so instead he looked out the window and thought about getting hit by a car.

Apparently that was a bad idea, because the next thing he knew, Claire, the group facilitator, had called on him.

Or so he assumed from the way everyone was staring at him.

“What?” He said stupidly.

Claire did her best smile, a tight, terse, unhappy smile. “I asked how you were feeling about this transition?”

He shrugged. He didn’t want to be rude, but figured it was the best way to avoid participating in this bullshit. “I don’t know Tina. I don’t think we ever, like, talked. So I don’t really care.”

Tina didn’t seem bothered, but Dave seemed to find this to be funny. He was smirking.

“What?” Connor said, looking at him.

Dave shook his head, laughing quietly to himself.

“What?” Connor repeated, feeling his hands tighten into fists.

“Well, how the fuck are you going to know anyone if you don’t talk to them?” Dave said. “You don’t talk in here, at lunch, during free time. I’ve been trying to be nice to you for like a week now, and you keep telling me to fuck off.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be nice to me.”

“ What ? Why not?”

“Because I’m not a fucking joke for you laugh at.”

“Okay, maybe we ought to move on-” Claire started.

“I don’t think you’re a joke. I think you’re a lost little kid who could use a friend.”

“Fuck you!”

“I just mean, dude, I don’t know you, but you seem pretty l-”

“But nothing! Joke’s over, you can go laugh it up with the other guys now.”

“What?”

“I know you’re just fucking with me so you can see how hard you can push before I freak out, okay, and fine! You fucking win. I’m freaking out. Happy?”

“Guys, this doesn’t seem productive-”

“No, I’m not! I’m not happy, why would you think that at all? Are you like paranoid or something?”

Connor didn’t hear the next words out of his mouth. All noise faded to a dull whine. One second he was seething at Dave, the next second the plexiglass behind Dave’s head was spiderweb cracked and a chair was on its side, dented, with Dave on the floor looking horrified.



“We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here.”

Connor blinked.

“Your being here is a privilege. Your parents are spending a lot of money for you to get well.”

“I didn’t ask them to do that.”

The woman behind the desk sighed, rubbing her eyes. Connor smirked, imagining that when she took this job she had probably had all of these big dreams of helping people or some other crap. Here he was to ruin the day. “Connor. Look. You’re seventeen. You have a chance to turn things around here, while you’re still young, and you’re wasting it.”

Connor crossed his arms over his chest.

“Dave Schwartz has said he doesn’t think that changing rooms is necessary, so we’ll keep you there on a probationary basis-”

“What? Why? I can’t fucking stand him. I mean, I threw a chair at him! Why do I have to keep being his roommate?”

The woman sighed. “Did he do anything to provoke you?”

“I-”

“Verbal, physical violence?”

“No, but-”

“Is his presence a threat to your sobriety?”

“What? I don’t…” Connor sighed. “No. I mean. Not that there’s anyway not to be sober here.”

“Then you’ll stay put until we can find a more suitable room for you,” She said, and something in her tone reminded Connor greatly of his father. It made him grind his teeth in frustration. “You’re on pretty thin ice, okay? Property damage isn’t a laughing matter. You don’t want to become the person who gets thrown out of rehab, Connor, trust me. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

Connor stared blankly.

“You can go.”

“Great.”



His mom was pissed when she called him.

“You threw a chair at someone Connor!”

He said nothing.

“This has gotten way out of hand, I don’t even know what to do anymore. We’ve tried everything! What aren’t we doing, Connor, what is it that you need?”

“I don’t need to be here,” He said, frustrated.

“Oh yes, you absolutely do.”

“Why do you keep saying? I don’t want to be here, I don’t have -”

“Connor, you told me! When you got home that night, you said that you were always getting high, that you didn’t know how to stop, and that you needed help.”

“No I-” But it was like he had been hit in the stomach with a football, thrown hard, perfect spiral. Like he’d been punched in the gut. “...I did say that.”

“Yes. You did.”

“Why did you listen to me?” He said, “I was high.”

“Connor I just wanted you to get help… I…”

“I should go.”

He hung up on his mom, his face burning, his guts twisting.

He’d been on a bit of a bender. Like, four days or so. He’d ran off when his mom asked just where he thought he was going.

Somehow, he’d ended up hanging out with Isaac, spending fifty dollars that he’d stolen off of Zoe so he could get high. He’d been crashing, arms itching, sweating, feeling like shit. He blamed it on not having money the other day, and using the last twenty in his bank account to get his hands on something. He’d never considered heroin like a good option, but beggars can’t be choosers and he was fucking begging.

And then he kind of lost track of stuff. He switched off his phone because his mom kept calling and snorted a crushed pill until he sort of floated off.

But then he sort of wondered what time it was, because he’d ended up on this dirty old floor with a few other guys, and he wasn’t totally sure where he was. So he switched his phone on, thinking he’d get the time, and was confused to see it had been a few days.

His stash was pretty depleted, but not totally gone. He wanted to sleep in his own bed. He thought he ought to sneak home when his parents were asleep so he could shower.

But then his mom was hauling him home and everything hurt and they all kept yelling at him, and Zoe like basically shoved him down the stairs and he just couldn’t be there anymore.

“Connor are you listening to me?”

“I snorted a pill earlier,” He said, dully.

“What?”

“When I went to the bathroom. I crushed some oxy and did a line after I peed. Because I was starting to feel sick.”

“What are you talking about?” Larry demanded.

“I’m high right now. I’ve been high for like… four or five days.”

“Connor, sweetheart.”

His dad exploded. He was screaming about how that was illegal, Connor, and where was he even getting money for this?

“I stole some out of Zoe’s purse. I think.”

That set Larry off again, going on and on about how this wasn’t acceptable, what if the guys from the firm found out, did he have any idea how much trouble be was in?

“I did heroin last week, after you guys cut off my allowance. It’s cheaper.” Connor said, smirking, almost laughing. His dad’s face was tomato red, then cherry red. He might pass out. Connor snorted.

"Why would you do that?” His mom said, and there were tears in her eyes and he did that he did that he was a monster a freak horrible awful.

“Because I like being high.”

His dad was getting up, stomping around the room.

“I started stealing pills from grandma,” Connor said, still almost laughing, because honestly it was fucking funny. “And I’ve been getting high all fucking year. And you guys just… ignored it.”

“Connor.”

“He’s just saying this to get attention, Cynthia, don’t -”

“Maybe I ought to get some attention,” He said, actually laughing now.

“Do you know how common overdoses are? Do you know what can happen to addicts-?”

Connor had wanted to protest that he was definitely not an addict, more like an enthusiast, but he was high and tired so he kept that to himself. Instead he said, “This guy I know ODed last week. It sucked, because he choked on his own puke, and it really brought down the mood.” He shook his head. “I’m kind of jealous. I keep trying to do that but then I get so high I forget that’s the plan.”

“Connor,” His mom sounded hysterical, she was shaking him.

He blinked slowly. “I’m probably gonna die.” He shrugged. “Whatever.”

“He needs help,” Cynthia said, turning to Larry. “He needs help, Larry!”

“He needs some fucking discipline, but I’m the only one in this house who is trying!”

"Larry, listen to what he's saying! He's high! He... he needs to get off the drugs, or..." She shook her head. "I think Chris might know a place..."

“What, like rehab or something? Do you have any idea what that will cost? And what if that doesn’t work either?”

“Well we have to try something!”

Connor starting giggling, thinking, “they tried to make me go to rehab…”

“Connor go to your room,” his mom snapped. Apparently he'd sung it outloud.

“I won’t go go go…”

“Now,” She demanded. “And give me whatever you have on you.”

"I don't have anything."

"Bullshit, Connor, hand it over."

He pulled a small baggie of pills out of his boot. And set it on the table. And went upstairs to bed.

And went to rehab the next day.



The only good thing about this place was the fact that he could still smoke. They didn’t even care that he was underage. Connor guessed they were just pleased it wasn’t, like, heroin.

He’d only ever snorted that, back home. In a pinch. It was cheaper.



Connor shook his head, lighting another cigarette. He wanted to go home, and he didn’t even know what for. Nobody there wanted him. Zoe was probably thrilled to have him gone. She had been last summer.

“Hey.”

Connor turned to see Dave, fucking Dave, walking outside. Just when he was starting to feel less murderous too.

Dave sat down on the step next to him. Connor wondered if Dave was planning to kick his ass. It wouldn’t be hard; Dave was built like a tank, Connor like a twig. Maybe he’d get lucky and Dave would accidentally kill him. That was the dream right there.

“Hey man. I’m not sure what happened earlier, but I’m really sorry. Clearly I’ve pushed too hard and need to back off. It’s my bad, okay? I need to chill. You just remind me a little of my brother, but that’s not your baggage, okay? So I come in peace to say I’m sorry.”

Connor frowned. “Your dead brother?”

“Ah, so you do listen in group.”

“Whatever.” Connor took a drag of his cigarette, holding back the apology on his tongue. Maybe if he just let it go, Dave would finally take a hint.

Connor was never good at letting things go. “Sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. And sorry. About the chair, I mean. I’m… kind of an asshole.” There was no other way to put it. He was just… kind of an asshole.

“Yeah, I fucking noticed,” Dave said, but he sort of chuckled so Connor’s shoulders relaxed a little. They just sat there, smoking cigarettes.

“You’re really not fucking with me?” Connor said after a while. “You really just want to talk ?”

“Yeah dude. This place blows, and I’ve been here a couple of weeks. I figured maybe you’d want someone to hang out with who won’t try to like… sell you meth.”

“Oh.” Connor felt just, incredibly stupid and small then. Of course he got that wrong. Of course. After the whole Jared blow up in middle school, he just learned it was better to assume the worst of people. So far the results had been pretty spot on… at least until this. “I suck at this. I don’t. I don’t really have friends.”

“Yeah my friends are assholes too,” Dave said conversationally.

“No. I mean. I don’t, like. Have friends.” There was a strange sort of lump that formed in his throat. It wasn’t exactly a proud moment, admitting that he had nobody.

“Don’t be such a martyr, dude,” Dave said, laughing.

Connor sort of frowned without meaning to, and Dave sort of. Noticed.

“Seriously?” Dave said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You don’t have friends? Not any?”

Connor shrugged. “I just. Don’t talk to people, usually. I hate them, they hate me. You know. That sort of thing. It’s been like that since middle school.” He didn’t know why he was telling Dave this at all. He wouldn’t even admit this to his mom, who like, had to like him no matter how pathetic he got. “Just. Some asshole in my class made a big deal out of us hanging out while we did this school project in middle school, right? And then called me a dick for being, like, bummed out that I didn’t get invited to his bar mitzvah. Like I did it just to be a jerk, even though he invited basically everyone else in our whole grade.” He shrugged, feeling that weird lump in his throat grow bigger. “I just… stupidly thought we were friends. I dunno. I don’t really talk to people anymore.”

“That’s pretty fucked up,” Dave said. He nudged Connor’s shoulder in a sort of friendly way. “Last year was hard, then?”

“Fuck off ,” Connor said, but he was almost smiling.

“You’re like fourteen, right?”

“Screw you, at least I’m not forty seven .”

Dave laughed, and Connor caught himself smiling.

It was nearly dinner time. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Dave said. “Meet me back here during free time, yeah?”

“Sure whatever.”

Connor would have been pretty sure that Dave was screwing with him if the guy hadn’t practically skipped past him after dinner saying he’d meet Connor outside in a minute. This guy was basically chipper. It was awful.

Connor scratched idly at his arm. There was nothing sharp to be found around the facility. He’d been so sick and so pissed off that like… weeks had passed without him taking something sharp to his arms, and… that was…

“Ah, alright. Alone at last.”

Connor eyed Dave suspiciously, but he just plonked his massive lumberjack frame down next to Connor on the steps of the smoking porch and produced a joint from his pocket.

Connor, feeling like, insanely surprised, managed to say, “What.”

“Party favors,” Dave said, smirking. “I know, I know. We’re supposed to… you know. Not do drugs. But I’ve done enough shit in my life to know that the devil’s oregano isn’t going to send either of us into a frenzy for heroin. So. That cool?”

Connor nodded, trying hard not to seem too over eager or enthusiastic. He hadn’t smoked with another person in… years. He rarely ever even indulged drug dealer etiquette and let his weed guy smoke him up. Not that he had even smoked in a while. He’d cut back a lot after he started eating pills for all three meals.

Dave passed him the joint, and to Connor’s chagrin, he coughed on the first puff.

“Please tell me you’re not such a yuppie kid that you missed out on pot as a gateway drug,” Dave said, laughing.

“No. Just been awhile.” He passed it back. They traded back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

“Not to be like, you know, creepy but have you ever considered smiling more?” Dave said, smiling at Connor. “You look like… a totally different person.”

Connor’s head felt pleasantly detached from reality. “Yeah, like a killer clown maybe.” He smiled, regardless. “So like. How old are you, anyway?”

“Ancient,” Dave said, snickering. “You?”

Connor closed his eyes for a long second. “Seventeen.” It sounded a lot younger to his ears for some reason.

“Fuck man.”

“I know.”

“You’re a baby.”

“I know.”

“And you look like one. Didn’t your parents teach you how to brush your hair? You look like fucking Russell Brand.”

Connor rolled his eyes and took the joint back from Dave, taking another hit. He didn’t know who that was. “So. What do you do? Other than drugs.”

Dave cracked a smile. “I’m a tattoo artist.”

Connor felt like a cartoon who was obviously interested in an idea, like his eyes were popping out of his head. “Cool,” He said, failing at nonchalant. “How’d you… get into that?”

Dave smiled wider, talking about how he was always drawing as a kid. “I got into an apprenticeship after I flunked out of college.”

“That’s… cool,” Connor repeated, lamely, pulling the cuffs of his sleeves over his thumbs so that only his fingertips poked out of the sleeves. His mouth and throat felt dry; he always got terrible cotton mouth when he was high. Without meaning to he mentioned that the last time he’d hung around with another person smoking, they had demolished an entire bag of Gardetto's on a playground.

Dave snorted. “Chex Mix is the way to go, man.”

Connor shook his head, “No way. Who wants Wheat Chex?”

“People who care about getting their whole grains!”

Connor chuckled. “Fuck whole grains! If I want to eat a bag of salty pretzels and rye chips, I should get to do it without the obstacle of cereal in there.”

Dave was laughing a little. “You’re not living your life right if you don’t enjoy a savory cereal from time to time.”

Which set Connor off, giggling.

They went back and forth on it for a while, both laughing, arguing over what was a better snack, losing track of the conversation, picking it back up. Laughing.

Connor usually didn’t laugh this much when he was high. He didn’t do anything at all when he was high. He just wanted to kill himself a little bit less.

Dave was watching a rabbit hop across the lawn.

“If you were an animal, what would you be?” Connor asked. He pictured Dave as a bear. A teddy bear. The kind raised by humans who would like tackle hug people.

“An osprey, for sure.”

“What the hell is that?”

“A bird, dumbass! It’s like. Such a fucking cool bird. They like…are hella protective of their nests. Like the mama bear of birds.”

Connor looked at him strangely.

“I can be a fucking mama bear bird,” Dave said, laughing. “Don’t be so binary man.” Connor laughed too. If Dave said so, who was he to argue? “What about you, what kind of animal would you be?”

Connor sighed. He didn’t know. Probably something lazy and fucking useless. Something terrifying. Whatever someone would run screaming from even though he was a joke. “Maybe like a lion?” He imagined the lions at the zoo, the kind that sat around doing nothing until they suddenly started growling at the little kids on the other side of the glass.

“Ah yeah because of the mane.”

Connor smiled, shrugging.

“You could be the Cowardly Lion. I bet you’d look really pretty with a bow in your hair.”

“Fuck off,” Connor whined, laughing.

Dave laughed too, warbling a few lines of “If I Were King of the Forest,” which cracked Connor up.

“Lions don’t even live in forests,” He said, shaking his head.

“They also don’t sing or talk,” Dave said, “but I don’t hear you whining about that lack of realism.”

“I just mean. Oz could have a savannah.”

Dave chuckled. “Did you know that, like, most lions… like the guys? They’re all bi, at least. Like. Male lions fuck male lions all of the time.”

Connor thought he felt his heart stop.

He.

Froze.

“Wh-what?”

He’d never, not really, been face to face with the idea that… like he was screwing around with Jason but it wasn’t like they were, you know, talking about it. He. He didn’t.

Dave was still talking, looking panicked like he didn’t realize he’d put his foot in his mouth and needed to jam it in there further. “Fuck, I mean. It was… I was just being an idiot, like, just… like. Gay lions…” He stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. “Like. It’s totally cool or whatever if you’re gay, you know? Like one of my best friends from college is gay and like… He’s great, but being gay isn’t like…why...” Dave stopped, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I swear I’d be doing a better job of this if I wasn’t baked like a fucking cake right now… But. Who you love is like, you know, just one piece of you and not inherently good or bad. So. If you’re gay, then… that’s cool. With me. You know.”

Connor stared.

“It’s… you know, it’s okay to be gay and whatever dude. If you are. I mean… Yeah.”

Connor, relieved in a way he had never expected to be, laughed a little breathlessly. “Um.”

Dave smiled sort of sheepishly at him.

Connor chuckled again, just sort of smiling while also feeling like an idiot because like.

Well.

It wasn’t like anyone had ever said something like that to him before.

And without really meaning to, Connor found his mouth moving, spilling all of the idiotic secrets he swore he wouldn’t tell people because he wasn’t the type to spill his guts in rehab. “I think… I’m pretty sure my dad spent, like, my whole life trying to keep me from being…” He stopped for just a second, because there was something liberating but also terrifying about admitting it outloud, “...being gay.”

Dave frowned. “That sucks.”

“I had… like, I dunno, sort of long hair for a bit in middle school. Like.” He kind of snorted, raking a hand through his long hair. “Not this long, but just sort of… too long for his tastes. And he, like, made this whole… pitch that if I, you know, looked more normal, more like the other kids that people might actually talk to me for a change…” Connor pinched the sleeves pulled over his fingers. “And then he made me get a buzz cut.”

“Fuck, really?”

Connor nodded. “I hated it. I looked like a fucking alien.”

“That really blows.”

Connor shrugged. “And like, later that night… my parents fight. A lot. Like, they probably should have gotten divorced a thousand years ago. And Zoe and I… Zoe’s my sister, um… we could hear them arguing, and my dad was all, ‘blahblahblah, Cynthia do you want him to turn out gay? And, like, that’s not how boys are supposed to act and whatever.’ It… sucked.”

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Dave said. He lit a cigarette. Offered Connor one. They smoked. Connor felt idiotic for saying anything at all. “That’s some real toxic masculinity bullshit, you know?”

Connor shrugged. He didn’t really want to admit that, well, some parts of him thought that maybe his dad was right. If he weren’t so weird, so girly, so gay, whatever, maybe he wouldn’t feel so fucking broken all of the time.

“Like, fuck, I want to meet your dad and give him a hug. Just to make him uncomfortable.”

Connor snorted with laughter, surprised.

“Maybe even give him a little cheek kiss. Just because.”

Connor laughed again, looking over at Dave. “But you’re not even gay!”

“What does that matter? I’m still going to give your pops a big old whiskery smooch and a lingering hug. Teach him how to be a real man. There’s nothing fucking scary about being affectionate with people of your gender. Like, come on, you can’t tell me he came out of the womb giving firm handshakes to all of the other penis-havers, right? Jesus Christ.”

Connor cracked up. He laughed so hard his sides started to hurt and he started to cough a little. Dave laughed right along with him.

“Is that why the hair? To piss your dad off?”

Connor shook his head. “I just… like it like this. But pissing him off is a nice bonus.”

Dave smirked. “You know. I do piercings sometimes.”

Connor looked over at him, smiling. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I used to want my ears done. Especially after my sister did hers when she was like eight? But you know….” Connor looked over at Dave.

“I’ve got a pair of studs back in the room. And I found a safety pin on a jacket of mine...”

“Let’s do it.”



“Look even to you?”

Connor looked in the mirror. He really made a point of not doing that, honestly. He didn’t like his face; it was too sharp, too pale, too sad. He tucked his hair behind his overly large ears, trying to determine if the black sharpie dots Dave had drawn on the lobes looked even.

“Yeah, I think.”

“Cool,” Dave said. He was rubbing Purell over a safety pin, then running the pin through the flame of a lighter.

“Is this legal?” Connor said stupidly. He was still pretty high.

“Only if you decide to tell my boss,” Dave said, shaking his head. “She’d literally cut my balls off.” He looked at Connor then said, “Well hop on the counter.”

“Can’t I just stand?”

Dave snorted. “You’ll move less if you sit.”

Connor rolled his eyes but hopped on the counter. He didn’t really know why he was agreeing to this. He didn’t… he didn’t even super want to pierce his ears, honestly. He thought his ears were pretty stupid looking already.

“Okay,” Dave said, pouring Purell over his hands and rubbing them together. He picked up the safety pin, and approaching Connor’s face. He took hold of Connor’s ear and then said. “Looks like we’re set. Gimme a big deep breath in?”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Dave said.

Connor obeyed, sucking in a deep breath.

“And out.”

He exhaled. As the breath left him, he felt the safety pin pinch his earlobe a little.

“Cool, hold still I’ll put the stud in.”

“Wait, that was it?” Connor said, eyes traveling to the side.

“Yup,” Dave said, pulling the safety pin back out and putting in the metal stud. “Want to look first or just do the next one?”

“Do the next one?”

“Alright.” He watched Dave clean the safety pin again, then head over to Connor’s other side. “Deep breath in.”

Connor didn’t argue this time. He breathed in.

“And out.”

It was over pretty fast. His lobes were a little bit red when he turned to look at in the mirror. And then Connor started laughing. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Dave laughed in response.

And Connor laughed at him laughing, barely keeping it together, tittering, “That was… that was fucking illegal!” And that set Dave off and then Connor was clutching the bathroom counter because he couldn’t hold himself up right.

“What is going on in here?”

Connor heard the voice of one of the orderlies who worked the night shift, looking livid at him and Dave in a bathroom with a lighter and a needle.

Which was how Connor wound up in his case worker’s office for the second. He had bitten his nails to bleeding. He didn’t know why he suddenly cared, but the idea of being sent home now seemed.

Stupid.

Like if he went home, things would be very bad.

Like if Dave got thrown out over this, Connor would feel way worse.

The case worker looked exhausted when she finally entered her office. Connor stood up. “The pot was mine, the whole piercing ears thing was my idea, please don’t punish him because I’m an idiot.”

His caseworker blinked. “Please sit down.”

Connor sat.

“I’ve called your parents.”

Connor nodded. So this was it. He was being sent home. Fine. Just. Fine.

“And we agreed that this is indicative of your needing more time here. So. You should plan on completing your ninety days.”

Connor nodded. “And Dave?”

She almost smiled. “No longer seeking a new room assignment?”

Connor shook his head. She dismissed him to bed, and he was escorted back to their room.

Dave was sitting inside, looking anxious. “Did they throw you out?”

“No. You?”

“No,” He smiled at Connor then. “So, we both agree that it was very stupid and we’ll never do it again.”

“Sure.”

Dave grinned. “Go to bed, don’t you need like eleven hours of sleep or something?”

“No, I think that’s old people like you.”



The visit was shitty.

His mom just kept telling him great he was doing, kept reaching over to try to grab his hands, kept touching and it put him on edge.

His dad kept checking his watch and his phone and frowning. Zoe didn’t come at all. He didn’t blame her. She wasn’t supposed to be here, around these people, around him.

After about an hour of them all sitting at the crappy old table, saying nothing, his dad said. “We should go.”

“Oh,” Connor said. Suddenly he wished he had said something, anything. He wished they wouldn’t go. He didn’t want to go back to his room or the rec room where everyone else would have their parents and partners and friends around. He didn’t want to be by himself. “Okay…”

“You really do look better, sweetheart,” his mom said, reaching out and quickly smoothing down a piece of his hair.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, getting sad that they were leaving. He didn’t even want them here in the first place. He never wanted to be around them at home. But they were going to leave and they were going to leave him here and he still had to be here another month and half and he felt like he couldn’t stand to do it. “And thanks. For. You know. Coming today. You didn’t have to do that…”

His mom gave this sad sad smile, and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back and stepped back quickly. Nothing from Fucking Larry. No handshake or hug or whatever.

They went back out through reception, and Connor felt incredibly idiotic watching them until he couldn’t see them anymore.

“If they bounce early, come find me. My parents usually overstay their welcome.”

Connor chewed on his thumb nail.

He stared out the window until he tasted blood. And then took off, heading toward the rec room, deciding to look for Dave. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t good with parents but he knew…

If he went back to his room, Jason would find him, and he knew Jason had a guy in here…

He went and found Dave. He was smiling and talking with a pair of adults in their fifties. They were both smiling, and not in the sad broken way his parents had been. They looked pleased.

“Connor!”

He’d been spotted. He waved as Dave waved him over. “Hey.”

“Mom and dad, this is Connor. He’s my roommate. Connor these are my parents, Dr. Brikowski,” He nodded to the woman, “and Dr. Schwartz.”

“Smart family,” Connor mumbled, shaking hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Dr. Brikowski, pulling out a chair. She smiled at him. Connor didn’t get this family. They smiled too much. He sat. “So, Connor, David tells me you’re a big reader! What are you reading right now?”

Connor shot a look at Dave, feeling like somehow his roommate had ratted him out. “Um.” He felt like his answer said too much. “I just finished Bad Feminist. ”

“Oh! I was just thinking of picking that up. Was it good?”

Connor nodded, biting his lip. “I. I liked it.”

“So, you’re in high school?” Dr. Schwartz asked.

Connor nodded.

“What year?”

“Senior, in the fall.” He didn’t mention how he’d barely passed his junior year. He didn’t mention he was seriously considering dropping out. He just said he was going to be a senior.

“Well, Dave mentioned that you don’t live too far away from us. If you’re in need of a math tutor at any point, I can help you get set up with one.”

“Thank you,” Connor said softly, his head bowed. He must look like he wasn’t good at math. He’d passed pre-calc with a low C-, and only because he had cheated on the final and got a B on it. He’d been pretty high at the time, and the girl who sat behind him had dropped her study card under his seat, and he took it when she wasn’t looking.

The conversation drifted. Dave’s parents filled him in about his siblings. His brother was being scouted by a few colleges for soccer; they’d come to see him practice even though it wasn’t quite August. His sister had piano solo at band camp.

It all seemed… normal. Like his parents didn’t hate him, even though Connor knew Dave had been estranged from his family for years.

It didn’t seem fake either. Nobody was pretending. Dave seemed to genuinely care about his brother and sister. He asked his mom about how her work was, asking if she had given anymore thought to adding another Orthodontist to her practice (she had decided to do it). He asked his dad how teaching summer classes was going, and he complained about an incoming freshman who refused to drop the class despite the fact that he never showed up.

“Sound familiar?”

Dave snorted. “I majored in skipping class,” He said, nudging Connor.

Connor wanted to quip that Dave had actually majored in getting shitfaced, but he kept his mouth closed.

“How was the visit with your parents?” Dave asked.

“Fine,” he said, shrugging.

“What do your parents do?” Dr. Schwartz asked.

“My dad’s a lawyer,” Connor said. “My mom stays home. She used to teach, but she stopped when.. When my sister and I were born.”

“Older or younger sister?”

“Zoe’s younger than me,” Connor said, looking at the table. “By eleven and half months.”

“A surprise then!” Dr. Birkowski said, laughing a little. “Dana was a surprise too. She’s ten years younger than David.”

Connor nodded mutely, trying not to smirk. David . She’d said it twice now. He was so going to give him hell for that later.

“Mom, can you please not traumatize the kid with your sex life?”

“Do you mean Connor or yourself?”

Connor and Dave both laughed.



“Your parents are nice,” Connor said at dinner.

“They’re too nice honestly,” Dave said. “I’ve been a real shit to them since high school.”

Connor nodded. He got that feeling.

“So how was the visit with your parents, really? They didn’t stay long.”

Connor shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth and shrugged. He finished chewing and swallowed, “We just. Kind of sat there not talking. My mom kept like. Grabbing at my hands and stuff? I dunno. I sort of wish they hadn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because they suck?” Connor said dully. “And I suck, like, with them so. I dunno. It was just. Whatever.”

“Parents are tough,” Dave said, nodding. “And it’s not like we’ve made anything easier for them.”

Connor thought of his mom’s face, finding him at that old autoshop downtown where he’d ended up after a fight with Zoe led to a bender, how she’d found him because he’d switched on his phone, how his dad was pissed off because the place where Connor had parked his car was a tow zone and they had to pay like a hundred bucks to get it out of impound. He was used to his dad getting pissed, and when he was younger his mom used to holler her frustrations, but this was. New. She looked crushed, and deranged as she pulled him bodily to the car. She didn’t seem to notice or care about the other guys all high and half dead piled around him, didn’t even blink at the fact that one guy Isaac had a knife and half heartedly threatened her. She grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise and screamed at him the whole way to the car.

And not the shit his dad liked to spew, like how he was throwing his life away.

But how she’d been out of her mind scared, how his sister hadn’t slept, how his grandma was calling everyone she knew in the area asking if they’d seen him. They’d called the police, they’d called all the hospitals, this wasn’t funny. This wasn’t a joke. How dare he do this to them.

At the moment, honestly, Connor thought that seemed pretty rich considering his parents had sent him away last summer and his dad knew he wanted to die but they were both keeping quiet about it.

But.

Looking back on it.

His whole body burned with shame. It was like oxy had muted his feelings but that meant it also muted his ability to give a shit.

It was easier not to care.

But in here, it was impossible not to.

“Yeah,” he said sullenly. “We don’t make it easy on them.”



There was nothing on television that Thursday night, and it was pouring rain so Connor couldn’t even escape outside to smoke. Dave was playing chess with some other tweaker called Gina; she was kicking his ass. All of her clothes were too tight on her now; she had boasted in group that she was finally eating again now that she’d kicked her coke habit.

So Connor sat on the couch, bored. He’d finished his book and they wouldn’t be allowed to make a library run until Monday.

The couch was old. Donated probably. It had sagging cushions and was difficult to climb out of. Connor ran his hand on the inside of the cushion, bored and restless, and then his finger snagged on a staple that was holding down the lining under the cushions.

Connor looked around the room quickly before picking it out with his fingers. His nails were bitten and short, so it took a few tries to get it free, but he managed. He would get up and walk to the bathroom and it would only take a few seconds and then maybe he’d feel a little more normal.

“Connor Murphy?”

He looked up. Annoyed again to be reminded there was another Conor in this fucking hellhole; a heroin addict in his twenties who spelled his name with only one “n.”

“You have a phone call.”

He got up and followed the nurse who had called him, shoving the loose staple into his pocket. He didn’t know who would call him; his mom called on Sundays, only if she couldn’t visit.

He had to stand awkwardly at the reception desk to take the call. Apparently the nurse didn’t know how to transfer calls.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Connor’s heart stopped. Zoe.

She didn’t call him. She hadn’t visited, hadn’t written, and he didn’t blame her at all. Last time he’d been home, before the bender, he’d literally hit her when she made a grab for his phone announced to their Mom that he was high at the dinner table, and he smacked her in the side of the head and took the phone back and if his dad had been home Connor would literally have been dead. But Larry wasn’t home and Zoe slapped him back so he shoved her and just started screaming at her about how she was a nosy asshole who was always trying to get him in trouble, how he hated her and her fucking guitar and she wasn’t even good and she should just fucking the fuck away from him because he hated her and she was stupid, and idiot, a bitch, a cunt -

“Look. Mom and dad are giving me shit about not visiting.”

“Oh.” He swallowed. He wanted to tell her to tell them to piss off. He wanted to say that they weren’t being sensitive. He wanted to tell her he understood why she wasn’t there because he didn’t blame her at all. “You don’t have to.”

“I fucking know that. But. Can you have visitors on Saturdays?”

“Zoe don’t come.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck, no, don’t come!” This was coming out all wrong. He was so stupid, so bad at this. He cleared his throat. “I mean. You don’t. Have to.”

“What time on Saturdays?”

“Ten until two.”

“Fine. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Connor handed the phone back over the desk to the nurse, and walked slowly back to the rec room. Dave had officially lost to Gina. They were laughing about it because she’d forgotten to call “check,” and then called checkmate.

At the end of freetime, Dave asked him what the phone call was about.

“My sister says she’s coming to visit on Saturday.”

“Huh. That’s big. Good news though, right?”

He nodded.

“My… Aletheia, the girl I was seeing before I came here is coming too.” He shrugged sort of sheepishly. “I’d like to say she’s my girlfriend, but I really fucked that up so.”

Connor smiled ruefully. “I think if she’s visiting, she’s still your girlfriend.” He didn’t know why he was annoyed about that.

“She hasn’t dumped me yet, at least.”

The staple in Connor’s pocket was forgotten.



On Saturday, Connor woke up way before his alarm. The sun wasn’t even properly in the sky yet. He glanced over at Dave’s bed, squinting because he didn’t want to grab his glasses.

Dave was already awake. Sitting on the edge of his twin bed that he was too big for, gnawing on his lip, turning his toothbrush over and over in his hand.

“You’re up.”

“You are too,” Connor accused.

“Nervous?”

Connor typically would have lied, but he was… really fucking nervous to see Zoe. He nodded.

“Same.”

Connor tried to give him a reassuring smile that he was sure came out all serial killery and gross, then turned and started to grab clothes from his dresser. Typically he scooped up whatever looked clean, but this time he exerted a little effort. Picked up his old Nirvana shirt that finally didn’t fit him like a tunic and an old gray cardigan that had been a Christmas present from Zoe his freshman year of high school. Back when they still liked each other enough to buy each other presents. He even grabbed his least holey jeans, and then hurried off the to shower.

After he showered and brushed his teeth and got permission to shave (which he hated doing, but not as much as he hated the weird, grayish stubble the accumulated on his chin and neck if he didn’t).

At breakfast he and Dave both picked at their food.

“I feel like I’m going on a first date,” Dave joked. “Used to have a drink before those.”

Connor nodded because he didn’t know what else to do.

They wait together by reception when ten o’clock rolled around. Aletheia was one of the first people to arrive. She gave Dave a hug when she walked in the doors, and he waved at Connor before heading off to get some coffee in the cafeteria. He waved back, frowning, finding he didn’t like the way they held hands so easily.

But he shook his head. Zoe was coming. He had to get it together.

Connor did his best not to look anxious. He hung near the back of the gaggle, arms crossed, never craning his neck to see or standing on his toes. He kept his eyes fixed on the clock down the hall.

10:15.

10:30.

The gaggle thinned considerably.

10:45.

Maybe she didn’t want to be early. He checked in with the ladies at the front desk. No calls. They assured him that they’d come find him when Zoe got there.

11:45, and he was sitting in the rec room flipping through an old copy of Men’s Health when he heard “Connor?”

He turned around fast, only to have his heart sink when he saw the other, old Conor get up and embrace someone who was probably his mother.

12:45.

He’d said until two. He didn’t really blame her for not wanting to get up early. Maybe she’d been babysitting the night before?

1:45.

She wasn’t coming. He’d known the whole time, but the fifteen minute mark came and went and she didn’t come.

And he didn’t blame her.

But his throat burned all the same. He felt so stupid, so small, so idiotic and pathetic for getting his hopes up. She hated him. He’d made her hate him. He’d scared her and hurt her and hit her and she hated him and he deserved it. Why should she visit? Why would he ever be idiotic enough to expect that she would come? He knew better. He didn’t deserve her spending time on him, with him. He was so fucking stupid, pathetic idiot stupid moron dumbass fucking stupid fuck.

He walked slowly back to his room, hands shoved into his pockets.

When his fingers brushed the staple. It wasn’t ideal.

But it would do.

He turned back toward the bathroom. He had to keep scratching it up and down his arm until he finally saw little tiny droplets of blood. The pain was more of a sting or a burn than he was used to, but it did the job.

When Connor walked out of the bathroom, he could see Dave kissing Aletheia goodbye and he rushed down the hall, out the door to the back porch.

It was insanely stupid to feel jealous.

It was really really stupid. He lit a cigarette, sitting on the back steps, hating every thought in his stupid idiotic fucking moronic thoughts.

Of course Zoe hadn’t come. He didn’t blame her; he wouldn’t have come here to see himself if he was her.

So why was he so…?

“Hey, I thought I saw you run out of here.”

Connor didn’t look up. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. He just wanted to disappear. He was so fucking stupid, he was an idiot, he had gotten his hopes up…

Dave took a seat next to him on the stairs. He lit his own cigarette.

Connor didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t look at Dave without feeling like he was on fire in someway, like he was choking on charcoal, like he was drowning in smoke.

He took another drag.

He felt Dave’s fist lightly tap his knee. Connor ignored it. Dave did it again. And again. And Connor realized he was challenging him to a game of rock paper scissors.

He scoffed. But played anyway. Dave kept winning; Connor always picked scissors.

He noticed he was blushing but tried to swallow that because it was stupid, he was being so stupid. His ears burned and his face burned and he wanted to disappear into thin air.

He played scissors again. A draw.

“You always play scissors?”

“I guess.”

“Want to talk about it?” Dave asked after he’d won like ten times.

“No.”

“I know it sucks… but she probably just wasn’t ready.”

Connor shrugged. “Probably.”

“I get it. Really. I haven’t seen my kid sister since my intervention.”

“Hmm.”

“She punched me.”

Connor nodded.

“She’s twelve.”

“Damn,” He said. He waited for Dave to joke about how his sister was probably in Connor’s grade. It didn’t come. He guessed they weren’t joking about it then. A rarity. “That… sucks.”

Dave shrugged. “I mean, I’m here aren’t it?”

“This place sucks.”

“It does.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Connor mumbled, wrapping his free arm around his knees so that Dave’s hand was pushed away. “I just want to go home.” He sounded so pathetic, so sad, so idiotic and desperate.

Dave sighed. “I know.”

“I don’t even know why . They don’t want me there. I hate it there too.”

“They want you there.. Even if they aren’t great at showing it.”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Okay.”

“How’s your girlfriend ?” God he hoped that hadn’t come out as bitterly as Connor had thought it. Defensive and bitter and idiotic and horrible.

Dave smiled a little. “She’s… she’s great. I’m not sure we are, of course, but she’s good.”

“What does she do again?” Connor asked, hollow.

“She’s a personal trainer and nutritionist.”

“That’s cool.” He stubbed out his cigarette aggressively. Lit a second one. Cool. She was cool. And pretty from what he’d seen in the hall. Nice too, from the sounds of it. God, he was such an idiot, an asshole, he was so stupid.

“You okay, kid?” Dave asked.

He exhaled smoke slowly. Shrugged.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

“Fine. I’m not,” He said shortly.

“Okay.”

“Well, if you wanna talk about it…”

“I don’t,” he snapped.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.”