FireFly

Chapter Twenty Seven

Hindsight really was a wonderful thing.

Because really, he never should have driven over to Evan's when he left Paul's office yesterday. Because what did it do, really? Besides remind Evan even more of what a fucked up loser he was. When Connor had found his way back to the Murphy household late last night, he stayed awake until the early hours of the morning just scrolling mindlessly through YouTube and watching videos that held no meaning to him whatsoever.

How to properly clean a kitchen, government conspiracy theories, animals acting cute.

But there was this one video that had found its way into his head and it had sort of stuck there. It was about toxic relationships, red flags, dependancy issues, the list went on.

And down the list Connor went. Ticking every box.

He always knew, really had a cruel instinct, that he was toxic and a monster and had a lot of problems and just simply wasn't good enough for Evan Hansen.

Although he never expected to be reading all of the comments on the video and everyone seemed to be talking about a relationship like Evan and Connor's and saying how the best thing they could have done was break up and how they truly believed they would be dead by now if they had stayed.

Both of the boys had already tried dying. Just because fate chose to give them a free pass this time, it didn't mean that next time they would be so lucky.

He could be thinking nonsense, acting silly, perhaps his stupid bipolar brain decided to mess with him. But as he sat against his bed, one hand of black nail varnish drying whilst he was alone with his thoughts, the room scattered with dirty plates and mugs and clothes were everywhere and there was paint and charcoal stains all over his duvet cover. Connor couldn't help but think that this alone, his fucking bedroom, was a toxic environment so what must that say about the person living in it?

He never liked to be doing nothing when his mind got like this, it gave him a dangerous opportunity to spiral and with one hand wet with nail varnish, he decided to go and ask Zoe to paint his left hand.

Hey, it was something to do.

Connor rapped on Zoe's bedroom door twice, "Hey Zoe," he mumbled.

"What?" She replied stiffly, slowly opening the door halfway.

"I, um," he cleared his throat and scuffed his boot against the hardwood flooring, "Can you paint my left hand for me?"

Zoe's eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly in confusion and Connor understood it completely, all the times he'd painted his nails himself and they'd come out looking okay. But he would never tell her that the real reason he was here was because he felt lonely, "Sure." She said, eyes calculating.

The door opened fully and Connor stepped inside, Zoe shutting it after him. He had been in this room many times before but it had been quite a while now, he never forgot what it looked like though. Pale yellow walls, notes from Jazz Band and sheet music pinned on walls, the guitar she got for her eleventh birthday propped up in a corner.

"Sit down."

And just like that, time stopped. Just for a while, everything stopped moving so fucking fast and before long, both siblings were sitting on the floor, Zoe painting Connor's nails, music coming from her laptop, a song Connor didn't recognise but it didn't matter. There was an underlying tension, there always was. But for right now, both siblings were soon smiling and gossiping and Zoe was singing off key whilst Connor was yelling at her to shut up without it having any malice behind it. All thoughts of toxic relationships left behind.

Somehow, they had found a way of living with one another. They had found a way to go back in time and live in the old days where Connor was the big brother that was giving her piggy backs and Zoe was the little sister that wanted Connor to play dolls with her.

Their laughter eventually died down and Zoe piped up, "I miss doing this with you."

And Connor had to agree, not even reluctantly, he missed this more than anything. Many people think the worst part of living with a mental illness is all the shit your brains tell you and don't get him wrong, it is. But the hardest part about living with a mental illness? The most heartbreaking, defeating thing? The hardest part is leaving behind the person you were.

Friends, siblings, family, interests. They all get left behind. They don't stay, because nothing really sticks. All those things and all those memories you created become the 'old you' and you'll always get people saying how they miss a certain thing about you and there's nothing to be done about it! Because once something's been lost for as long as Connor has, it might just be impossible to find it again.

"We could do it more," he replied with a shrug, knowing full well that they won't. That this was a fluke. Because everything Connor touches turns rotten.

Zoe shook her head, screwing the lid back on the nail varnish, "I hate how they treat you." She whispered, voice full of emotion and Connor hoped to fuck she wasn't about to cry. "Really, I do." She went on, "It's not fair, you're not a bad person, Connor, you're really not."

"But I am." He replied, simply. Because he was, there was nothing normal about him, nothing good ever came from him, "I am and that's okay-"

"No it's not fucking okay!" She snapped, wiping angrily at her eyes, "Our parents make you out to be some sort of monster, dad especially, and now you're even starting to believe it yourself and just none of it is okay, Connor! You're not as broken as they all want you to be."

He sighed, not willing to say anything but he didn't need to because Zoe kept going.

"You've tried to kill yourself twice now, Connor-"

"Exactly! And you're trying to tell me I'm not broken-"

"Because you're not!" She yelled, "Because you're still my older brother, you just proved that by coming in here and spending time with me! You can still be the person you were, you just don't care enough to try and-"

"Of course I fucking care!" He shouted, and any peace that had been made between the two of them was gone, "Do you think I don't try? I try my best every fucking day!"

"Then what the fuck was that overdose about, Connor? And don't try to tell me it was an accident because you know as well as I do that you meant for it to kill you!"

"For fucksake, Zoe!" He screamed, tugging at his hair, "How many fucking times? It was a fucking accident!"

Zoe sobbed, holding her hand over her mouth to quiet the sound, she shook her head and turned away from him.

Connor took this as a plea for him to leave and he did, that fiery anger disappeared as quickly as it had come and all that was left of it now was the dread and hatred for himself when he realised that that was the voice he had used when he had screamed all those threats at her nearly a year ago now.

***TRIGGER WARNING***

The new rules of their relationship meant Connor was supposed to call Evan before he cut again but the video still haunted him and he wasn't in the mood for a pep talk.

So he took his pocket knife from his bedside drawer, closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath and pressed down hard.

He took little pleasure in the feeling of warm, crimson liquid running down the length of his arm but he knew he deserved it.

If he hurt everyone around him, then he deserved to hurt as well, right? Maybe it would take away some of the guilt he always carried around with him.

Or maybe it would be just another scar to add to the list, he'd find out soon enough.

***TRIGGER WARNING OVER***