Chapter Three

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(WARNING: Depictions of past attempts at suicide, self harm, and relapsing.)

(A/N: This is the longest chapter I have written so far, so bare with me if I lose my train of thought.)

A day had passed since the two had formally met. Poor Evan had never gotten high, so neither of them new what to expect. Although Connor wasn't expecting much, he sure as hell wasn't expecting Evan to fall asleep on their way back to class. He thought the kid had died from the way he just collapsed. Luckily, he didn't.

Connor had dragged him to the nurse, putting him on the bed. They both smelled like weed and if the nurse knew it, she said nothing. He silently thanked her for that.

Currently, Connor was rummaging through his locker, looking for an assignment he had that was due today. When he couldn't find it, his fist slammed against the locker next to him, earning a soft squeak from someone next to him. He glanced over at Evan, his eyebrow raised. The boy was standing there, his eyes blown wide and a hand over his heart.

"J-Jesus," He spoke softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly, "W-Why'd you do that?" He stared at Connor, his face a mix of bewilderment and slight fear. For some reason, the latter made Connor's heart constrict. He ignored it and shrugged, looking back at his locker.

"I lost the assignment for Ms. Brewer." His voice was laced with bitterness, his pupils dilated slightly. The sound of paper ruffling hit his ears before the brush of a hand against his gained his attention. He looked at the hand, noticing that it had the assignment in it. He looked at Evan, confused. The smaller one looked down.

"Y-You can c-copy mine. I-I finished it l-last night," He looked away, his cheeks a bit pink for embarrassment. Perhaps the social interaction was getting to him. Connor made a noise and took it, grabbing another piece of paper before lazily scribbling down the answers. He mumbled out a thanks and handed it to him, closing his locker.

"Why are you suddenly talking to me, Hansen?" Connor looked at him, seeing him fiddle with his hands.
"Y-You were n-n-nice to me and you'rethefirstpersonwhohasntbeenforcedtotalktomeand-"

"Woah, holy shit," Connor held his hand up  his eyes slightly wider than usual, "Relax, Evan. It was a simple question." Evan's face flushed red and he looked away, mumbling an apology. Connor spoke up, a hint of confusion in his tone, "Why would someone be forced to talk to you? You're a nice kid. Shy, but nice."

Evan went back to fiddling with his hands, "I-I don't t-talk much- I-I have real b-b-bad anxiety and i-i-i-" He cut himself off as he looked down, apologizing again. Connor let out a small hum, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Walk with me, Hansen," Before Evan could respond, Connor began walking away, heading towards his classroom. Evan quickly scurried after the taller one, chewing nervously at his lip. "You go to therapy?"
Evan gave him a small nod.
"What's it like?"

Evan shrugged, watching his feet. "W-Waiting room is c-crowded and i-it's awkward t-to talk to the t-therapist because I d-don't know how to tell h-him that I can barelyfunctionwithoutmedsand-" Evan breathed shakily, looking at Connor, "H-Hard. It's hard."

Connor frowned and turned the corner down their class's hall, letting out a noise. "I had been thinking of starting to go, y'know. I seem to need it. My parents would never let me, they think I'm their perfectly stable child." He scoffed, thinking back to last year. He had failed Senior year and had to retake it. All the pressure from his family built up before it just... collapsed. He tried to overdose and drown himself, saying, 'Hey, if I'm gonna take myself out, I'm gonna do it in a way I want.'
It obviously didn't work and he ended up in the hospital. His parents seemed scared and worried, and he lied, saying that he didn't mean to, that he fell asleep in the bath after taking too many sleeping pills.

They believed him.

He hadn't gotten any better, still thinking of ways to kill himself every day. It was terrifying and he wanted for it to end so badly. He had turned eighteen that year and had made a vow to himself that he would get better, that he would stop hurting himself and seek help.
It hadn't been going very well. He had relapsed four times in the past two months, not being able to take the stress from school, family, and life in general. He had dug his blade from the trash and slashed up his arms and thighs that morning, shaking softly as he did it.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Evan speaking. "Y-You need t-therapy? I-I can recommend my therapist, h-he's pretty nice." Evan stopped walking, rummaging through his bag as he pulled out a small notepad. It had puffy stickers on it and little doodles. The stickers seemed to be textured and it made Connor smile a bit. Evan scribbled down an address and phone number, ripping out a page and handing it to Connor. "T-T-This is his info."

Connor took it, folding it neatly and putting it in his pocket. He made a hum of approval before heading into class, Evan following.

◇♤◇♤

Class passed by slowly but surely. Connor audibly sighed as the bell signaling the end of the day rang out and he stood, putting his things away. He looked at Evan, who seemed a bit bothered by something, but alright nonetheless. He let out a shrill whistle, immediately getting the blond's attention.

"Wanna hang out at my place? We have a test and we should study." He suggested, looking at him expectantly. Evan nodded fast, pulling out his phone and texting someone: Most likely his mom. Evan scurried up to him, holding his notepad from before against his chest and running his fingers over the stickers. Connor said nothing as they walked out into the slightly empty halls. Nobody wanted to stick around here longer than necessary, and he didn't blame them.

He walked down the halls, Evan following in silence. Connor heard him tapping on his phone, still texting his mom. He hummed as they walked out of the school and he glanced back at Evan. He seemed relieved to be out of the school, and in all honesty, Connor was too.
They turned out of the school's parking lot, walking down the sidewalk toward's the Murphy household.

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