Connors pov:
Hands. All I felt were hands on my skin, pushing and pulling. I could feel the pressure of a large body weighing me down, forcing me onto the ground. I wanted to scream, cry, do something but all I could do was lay there shaking waiting for the feeling to pass.
I'd woken up from a nightmare, I used to have them every night but when I was drinking until I passed out most nights, dreams never seemed to come. But now when I'd laid down closer to sober than I've been in awhile there was nowhere to hide from the collage of memories.
"Are you going to cry for me Connor?"
I could hear his voice in my head like he was right here in the room with me, like he was on top of me whispering the words in my ear. I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep going like this.
My stomach turned and I knew if I actually had something in it I might have thrown up. I hated that I could still remember his touch. No matter how many hands I tried to replace him with, it was those touches that seemed to be branded into my memory.
Not all days were like this. Sometimes things were okay and then a bad day would hit and I'd barely be able to get out of bed.
Today was a bad day. I felt like I was drowning in it. The memories kept coming, over and over like they were on a torturous loop. Starting with the first time he had touched me and cycled through each painful memory. There was no escape but the bottle. I needed it to breathe, to sleep, to move. Sometimes I really thought I'd die without it. I thought that if I didn't drink until I couldn't feel that I'd do something that I couldn't take back. I'd finally let the darkness win and end it all.
Today was a day I felt like drowning the most.
So it was not even a thought at this point, really it was the one time I stopped thinking and let my body just go on autopilot. I pulled myself from the bed and grabbed the bottle I had stored in the drawer next to my bed. I didn't even have to think as I opened it and tipped it back letting the liquid slide down my throat.
With each sip I was expecting the hands to disappear, my mind to finally go numb. But even when I felt that familiar buzz to finally ignite under my skin I still felt like I was suffocating. The pressure against my body never let up.
This was usually when I'd go out and let myself drown for a little longer. I'd drink until my brain was finally empty and then I'd search out someone to try to replace the hands that were burned into my skin. But I couldn't do that now. I was working on being better even if my version of better was selfish. Trying to be good enough for Jetson was the most selfish thing I'd ever done.
There was nothing I could do to deserve a guy like Nicholas Jetson.
But I'd sure as hell try anyway. That was why I found myself drunk and clicking on his contact an hour later. I was still far away from blacked out but the alcohol wasn't working to dull the anxiety and keep me from falling under the surface.
"Hey." His voice did more to relax me than any of the alcohol in the bottle.
Fuck.
What was I going to do with myself? I needed to stay away but fuck I was too deep already.
"Can you come over?" I questioned.
"Is everything alright?" I heard the panic in his voice and the sound of shuffling on his end. It was obvious he was on his way over.
"I'm okay, just want to see you."
"On my way."
I tried to let myself relax at that. I'd see him and once he was in front of me then maybe this feeling would finally go away.
I really needed to find away to keep myself afloat for myself. I'd been managing by living my life under the influence but it was destroying me and at some point there would be nothing left. Not that there was much of me left anyways.
I was spread out on my bed when Jetson showed up. I just hoped he ignored the half empty bottle still out next to my bed. I didn't need him to say anything right now.
"Connor." Jetsons voice was soft as he walked over to me.
"Come here, I need you to do something for me." I knew it was a bad idea the second I said it.
This wasn't going to work. I shouldn't ask this of him.
"Anything, what do you need?" He sat on the bed next to me just waiting to hear what I had to say.
"Lay on me. I need you to lay on me."
Jetson didn't hesitate he just moved over and laid himself on top of me. It was immediate, the feel of someone else weight on top of me. That pressure pushing me into the bed, my body seized under him.
It was too much.
I couldn't-
I looked down at the messy brown hair tucked right under my chin. It was Jetson, he was right here and I was safe.
If I could just replace the lingering feelings from the nightmare with something different. Maybe I'd finally be able to take a single breath.
I just laid there for a second focusing on the feeling of Jetson on top of me. I repeated in my head that it was Jetson and I was safe. I felt myself relax slightly.
I could do this.
I closed my eyes trying to just focus and rid myself of all my demons. Immediately it wasn't Jetson on me. Hands were gripping my shoulder holding me down, the weight suffocating me.
I tensed, starting to let the panic take over.
"Connor." Jetson tried to push off of me but I wrapped my arm around him holding him against me.
"Don't get up." My voice shook trying to ride out the memories.
"Connor it's me, just open your eyes." I squeezed my eye tighter shut not wanting to look at Jetson, to see his face when memories of him racked my brain.
"Look at me while I speak to you Connor." His voice was sharp.
I snapped my head up looking at where he was towering over me.
"Sorry." I shrunk in my seat.
"What did I tell you?!" He yelled.
"I'm sorry, I know it wasn't my best-," I stopped at the sharp sting on my cheek.
I felt the realization sink in. The way one slap seemed to open my eyes at who the man in front of me really was.
"After everything I've done and you almost throw it all away? No one is going to want to give you a scholarship if you keep playing like that."
"I know."
He bent down so he was at the same level as me. And for the first time I saw the truth in the man in front of me. I saw the monster staring at me.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten mad like that." His hand cupped my hurt cheek. "I know you are trying your best, I just want you to be able to have the life we both know you deserve."
I'm pulled out of the memory by a soft hand resting on the side of my face. It's so startling that my eyes snapped open to see the warm smile of Jetson peering down at me.
"Look at me Connor, just focus on me."
I just looked at him letting myself focus on only Jetson. Not the pressure of his body on mine, or the lingering sounds of my coach in my ear. Only Jetson's face.
"You don't have to do this, you don't have to try to prove to me or yourself that you can do this." His thumb rubbed soft patterns on my cheek trying to calm me down.
I let my arm slip from around him, finally letting him move away.
"Sorry." I muttered.
Jetson rolled off of me, finally giving me some reprieve.
"Stop trying to push yourself." He told me and I knew I should listen but I was sick of letting this ruin me.
"Can you stay with me?" I questioned.
Jet just nodded and laid down on the bed next to me. We weren't touching at all but just his presence was enough for me to finally be able to take one single breath.