Hi everyone! This is a new Jonnor story! Basically Connor was adopted rather than Jude, and still faces anxiety and issues due to the death of his mom. Jude seems to be a normal kid with a great life. But the truth is always darker than the lies. Hope you all enjoy!

The day that Connor's mother flew out of the car windshield had not started out a special one. The August weather was unbearable, clothes clinging onto skin with a sticky and warm feeling, fans and air conditioners blasting into homes. Public pools were crammed and Popsicle sticks were all over the streets. Old men topless on their balconies, a cool beer in their hands as their eyes wandered onto women with short shorts and tee-shirts, simply just trying to make the weather bearable for them as well.

Somewhere in a suburban neighborhood, in one of the identical brick houses which had an air conditioner on high, and no topless old men in site, a tense argument was in the midst.

"It's my sisters birthday," Sandra Stevens insisted, sitting next to her son on the kitchen table as he stuck out his tongue, trying to focus and finish this god damn complicated homework. The dirty blonde boy stuck out his ten fingers in front of his face, counting and putting one finger back against his palm each time he subtracted a number. "We have to go."

Adam Stevens stood by the kitchen, his fingers reaching for the familiar feeling of the beer bottle he felt as though he desperately needed. He wasn't a fan of his wife's sister. Going to her house and having to see her and her model husband weren't exactly apart of his Friday night plans. He let out an annoyed sigh, walking over to the mahogany table she was seated at. "You can't go alone?"

"No!" Sandra exclaimed, having enough of Adam's hate for her family, and his denial to do anything that didn't involve drinking and watching whatever sports game was on TV. Adam shook his head lightly, dropping his eyes onto his son. "And who will watch Connor?"

Sandra trailed her eyes back down to her son as well, whose eyebrows were furrowed together as he continued pressing his fingers down onto his palm, a focused and determined look in his hazel eyes. "I called Allison, she said she'd be fine with watching him tonight."

At the mention of the chubby girl with the square glasses and oddly wide smile, Connor scrunched up his nose and lost all interest in his work. "Awe no!" Connor whined, slouching in his seat. "Why her? She's weird and she talks too much! What happened to Andrew? I liked him better." Adam shared a look with his wife, yet completely ignored his son's words as he continued the heated argument.

"Fine," Adam settled, running a hand through his hair and pressing an irritated look upon his face. "But I swear if your sisters perfect husband who," Adam stuck out his fingers and changed his voice to a higher pitch, imitating his brother-in-law. "'Doesn't drink' makes sure there's no alcohol at this party, we're leaving." He turned without another word, walking back into the living room to watch the baseball game.

Sandra let out an exasperated sigh, shoving her face into her hands. Connor hated seeing his mother so upset. He placed his hand gently onto the middle of her back, rubbing it slowly like she would do to him when he were sad or angry. "Don't be mad Mommy," Connor tried to whisper, but it came out in regularly, simply just an odd raspy pitch to his voice. "I'm sure there will be some 'drinks' at the party like Daddy wanted. Aunt Josie always has water and apple juice!"

She stifled a laugh at her son's innocence. Oh, how she wished he could keep it for the rest of his days and never grow up. How easy it was to be a child, how lovely the innocence and the unknown were. And Connor wouldn't even appreciate these days until later in life, when he realizes how ugly life truly can be. Oblivion kept us young.

"Alright, buddy," she forced a smile, this time wrapping an arm around her son's shoulders and squeezing onto his left one, where her hand rested. "How 'bout we finish this homework?" He scrunched up his nose once more at the thought of having to finish off his homework.

Little did he know that this was the last moment he'd ever share with his mother.

The news hit Connor harder than his father's head against the steering wheel during the crash. The word's coming out of the police man's mouth were calm and warm, yet their meaning held the exact opposite.

At first he didn't understand. And then when he finally did understand, he wished that he didn't. Oblivion was lost. Connor was no longer as young as he was only hours before.

Connor ran out of the police man's grip, and up onto his mother and father's bed, curling up right in the middle and crying harshly into his mother's pillow. Loud and heavy sobs wracked his body, the boy shaking and wetting the pillow in salty thick tears.

It felt like hours when he had felt a hand upon his shoulder. Yet it was still not enough. Connor turned his head ever so slightly from where it was buried in the satin pillow, one eye peeking out to see a blonde cop standing by him, rubbing his shoulder in such delicateness. It reminded him of his mother, which made him cry even more.

Stef Adams Foster felt her heart throb at the sight of the shaking boy, she didn't know what to do other than to stand there and give him the best thing she could. Comfort.

"Stef." She turned her head at the familiar voice. Mike. Stef looked back down onto the boy, rubbing one more circle onto his back before she stood up and made her way into the hallway, away from Connor and where Mike was standing. "I spoke to the social worker. His dad is going to prison, that's a certainty. They looked into some files, called some family members. Hell, they checked his mom's will. But there's nothing. None of the family members are in a place to take him in. His grandmother is ill and his aunt refuses."

Stef felt anger boil inside her. How could anyone refuse him? What kind of person would let a child; their family, deal through this hell alone? "Did she give a reason at least?" Stef wondered aloud, and Mike shook his head in response.

"Something about not having enough money to help out," Mike said, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But from the looks of her neighborhood, she's got to be well off to afford one of the houses she lives in." Stef clenched her teeth. She leaned against the grey walls of a house which would no longer be that little boy's home.

"So, they're sending him into the system?" Stef didn't have to ask. She knew the answer. Mike nodded slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. Stef looked back into the room where Connor laid, currently rocking back in forth, his head buried back into a pillow. Although the bed was quite large, she couldn't help but notice how small the boy looked, curled up into himself, such a drastic change so suddenly in his life.

She knew better than to do it again. She had promised. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but think of her own babies, had it been her and her wife in that car. She would've wanted someone to take them in. To make sure that they're safe.

She knew so much better.

But, for today, she let her motherly instincts cloud over her cop ones.

"Lena and I still have out fostering permit," she uttered. "We could take him in."

It took one month for Jesus Adams Foster, the ten year old son of Stef and Lena, to finally stop complain about having to share a room with a boy who awoke almost every night with nightmares, and realize that is was his 'older foster brother duty' to help him through them instead. It took one month for Mariana, Jesus' twin sister, to convince Connor to paint his nails blue for him, which he didn't really mind. Even if it was quite messy and there were some spots missing. It took Brandon, Stef and Mike's 12 year old biological son, one month to insist on having Connor let Brandon teach him to play guitar. Although, he wasn't as great as he hoped.

It took two months for Connor to finally let Stef and Lena take him go shopping for clothes that weren't from his home. Two months for Connor to discover plaid; something he would insist that must be on one article of clothing he wore every day. Two months for Connor to let himself cry in Lena's arms the exact day his mother died two months prior.

It took three months for Connor to finally be accepted in his class, no longer the weird new kid with a dead mom. Three months for him to meet his best friend, Sean, who always insisted on wearing snapbacks. Three months for the two boys to become good friends with Taylor and Daria, two girls in their class who got along with them perfectly. Three months for them to earn their nickname 'the troublemakers,' always causing trouble whenever united.

It took four months for Mariana to accidentally call Connor her younger brother at the dinner table one night, which caused him to stay up in his bed for the rest of night at the shock of her choice of words. It took for months for Jesus, Brandon and Mariana to actually refer to Connor as their brother instinctively at school whenever someone mentioned him. Four months for Connor to get used to that concept, and whenever asked, would refer to Mariana as his sister and Jesus and Brandon as his brothers.

It took five months for Stef and Lena Adams Foster to decide to adopt Connor. Five months since Stef brought home a sad and tired looking boy. Five months since, instead of giving Stef the shit she should've gotten, Lena gave her a kiss. Five months since Connor had asked Stef and Lena if they were married. Five months since they said yes, and five months since Connor, despite his confusion responded with 'cool'. Five months since Connor told the whole family he loved them at the dinner table the night his adoption was offered.

And now, the boy laid in his bed, in the room he shared with Jesus, in a house he refers to as home. Stef walked in, a smile across her face as she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Go to sleep, love," she whispered. "You have a big day tomorrow. It's your adoption day." Connor nodded, instead of a smile on his face, his eyes were onto his blanket, which his fingers fiddled with and his mouth was pressed in a thin line.

"Something wrong?" Stef asked, running her fingers through the soon to be eight year old's hair. He nodded, a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Do you think my dad is alright with this?" He asked lightly, looking up into Stef's eyes. "With me being adopted. And leaving him forever." Stef's lips parted and she tilted her head to the side in sympathy.

"You know, sweets, he's still your dad," Stef promised, her hand rubbing against his. "He'll always be your dad. You two will always have that. And he still loves you, just like you still love him. This adoption doesn't take away these people from your family, it just adds more."

Connor nodded in understanding. "I just don't want to forget him, or for him to forget me. Or to forget my mom." Stef smiled sadly at the boy, patting his hand. "We're not replacing your mom and dad, Connor. We would never. But Lena and I are your moms too now," Stef assured him once more. "And your dad will never forget you. Just like you won't forget him or your mom. How could you forget something so great?"

Connor grinned at her before wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. "I love you, Mom." Stef felt her heart melt. It had been the first time he had ever called her that. "I love you, too. Now go to sleep." He fell back on his bed, just as Jesus walked in, repeating what Connor had said before, and melting into his own bed.

"Hey, Connor," Jesus whispered minutes after the lights were off and they were left alone.

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy you're my brother."

"Me too."

Twenty four hours later, the same scene had played out, except it was an official statement now.

- 8 years later -

Connor sat at the breakfast table, shoving cereal into his mouth at the speed of lighting as he finished off his English homework at the same time. He scribbled a period after the last word, which looked more like a comma, shoved the notebook into his school bag, and threw one last bite of cereal in his mouth. He quickly swallowed the disgustingly soggy texture and placed his school bag across his shoulder.

"I'm ready!" Connor called out just as Lena came down the stairs, Mariana and Jesus following foot behind. Mariana and Jesus were finally graduating this year, and Connor was starting tenth grade. The first day was always difficult, especially when Connor finished off his summer reading assignment during breakfast. But he knew he wasn't the only one. He had tried to Skype Sean, yet the boy had also been starting on his reading report.

"Alright, let's get moving everyone!" Lena exclaimed as she entered the car, Mariana and Jesus shoving one another like children, trying to get into the passenger's seat. "I called shotgun last night!" Mariana exclaimed, shoving him behind her.

"You know, by now I thought you would've realised it doesn't work that way anymore," Jesus chuckled as he grabbed his twin by the waist, placing her right behind him and swiftly setting himself onto the passenger seat, closing the door.

"Ugh!" Mariana groaned in anger, Connor trailing behind her. She opened the back car door in anger, and smashed it closed just as aggressively, right in Connors's face.

He barely even flinched, yet shrugged. "Seriously?" The three in the car could hear him clearly, despite their ears still ringing from the loudness of the closing car door and Connor still outside. He opened the door softly and closed it the exact same way.

"You guys might be starting a new year but if there's one thing that hasn't changed in your immaturity around one another," Lena said, directing her words to the twins.

"This isn't my fault!" Mariana exclaimed, practically jumping out her seat. "Jesus is the one who doesn't respect the rules." Jesus laughed, and Connor laid his head against the car window. Yes, this never changed.

"Who calls shotgun anyways," Jesus exclaimed. "We're not twelve anymore." Mariana rolled her eyes at him, and Connor stuck his earphones into his ears.

"We never got it at twelve tough," Mariana reminded him. "Brandon did. But now that he's finally away at college I still have to sit back here." She frowned, and Jesus rolled his eyes this time.

"What a shame, it must be so difficult to follow the routine you've been doing for years," Jesus said sarcastically.

"You know, slavery went on for years but that doesn't mean it was right!" Mariana spat back at him.

"Alright you two, calm down!" Lena said strictly. "Mariana, don't compare slavery to sitting in the backseat of a car, you'll get to sit in the passenger's seat tomorrow." Mariana's smile grew and Jesus' fell.

Connor stuck an earbud out of his left ear. "When do I get it?" Mariana looked at him, clearly annoyed. "I'm off to college next year, you'll get it then."

"I'm going to college next year, too," Jesus reminded.

"Yeah, if you pass."

"Hey!" Jesus exclaimed, and reached over to the backseat to try and grasp at her. Lena was just about to tell them off when Connor shouted instead.

"Cut it out!" At the sudden loudness and fear from the boy's voice, Mariana and Jesus shut up, their eyes looking onto Connor. His eyes were rimmed with red and he was breathing heavily.

Connor still was afraid of cars. Ever since his mother's death, he never could feel as safe in them as he used to. And when Jesus and Mariana did things like that, distracting Lena even the slightest from the road, he got petrified.

Jesus pulled back, muttering an apology which Mariana quickly reciprocated, softness in her dark eyes sympathetically.

The rest of the ride was dead silent.

"Jackass!" Connor felt his smile grow wide at the familiar voice, only turning his head to see the beaming face that matched it. He wore these ripped cargo shorts which Connor wondered whether or not were made that way, a black Tee-Shirt with the words 'skateboard is life' bolded in odd, squared letters. His hair was half matted to his forehead in sweat, and half hiding underneath the crooked snapback.

"You look like a mess, Sean," Connor chuckled, grabbing the hood of the snapback and yanking it down so it covered his eyes. "Thanks," the taller boy muttered, placing his hat back in place.

"First day back, you little shit!" Sean exclaimed happily, shoving Connor forward, his hands latched onto his shoulders as he pranced behind him like a young boy. "And even if it sucks, at least we go the girls to look forward to!" Just as the words escaped his mouth, he handed a blonde girl walking by a smirk, and stared at her behind as she walked away.

"Oh my god Sean, look ahead of you, you damn pervert," Connor said, shoving Sean in front of him this time. "How'd you know I was more of a boob guy?" Connor rolled his eyes so far back, he was sure they'd get lost in behind his head.

"You're actually more of a dick guy," Connor admitted, grinning at him. "Oh no, that's right, you're just a dick." Sean handed him a scowl, and then shoved him away jokingly only moments after. This is how it had always been between the two. Sarcastic comments, telling one another off, being rude to each other. And although neither would dare to admit it, they didn't know what they would do without the other.

"What's your first period?" Sean asked, grasping Connor's schedule from his hands and settling it within his own. "Spanish," Connor told him before Sean's eyes could adjust.

"Have fun," Sean laughed, knowing how much Connor hated Spanish. He hated languages. Words confused him. He couldn't even speak English properly. How on earth were people fluently bilingual? Numbers were Connors talent. Math and science were his favorite subjects, set aside P.E. Memorizing wasn't hard, but having to create stories, and make up things were so unimaginable to Connor.

It must've been his lack of creativity, and the fact that he was the farthest thing from a dreamer. Connor liked reality, and wouldn't dare get captivated by anything that wasn't real. People would ask him why, especially other children. And Connor would answer instinctively. Because it wasn't real, and he didn't want to waste his time, and waste his heart over things that would never happen.

"See you later, dude," Connor called as he turned to the right to enter Spanish class, already finding a few students seated. He knew all of these people but only one did he know well.

"Hey Connor!" Daria flashed him a smile as she said his name, patting the desk in back of her for him to take a seat. He handed her back a smile, making his way to the back of a class and taking a seat on the chair tucked into the freshly cleaned desk, despite some words and drawings being carved into it.

"Is it me or does this desk have more dicks carved into it than it did last year?" Daria asked, her eyes never leaving Connors. "Yeah, it definitely has more dicks. Must be the summer school kids." She giggled, her eyes glowing when he stared back at her.

"So, um, I don't know if you heard but there's going to be this huge back to school party at Jordan's house tomorrow night," Daria stated, propping her elbow on Connor's desk and leaning her head onto her hand. "His parents are out of town on a business trip and well, you know, he's got this huge house with a pool and everything. He's got that typical rich kid life. You should go, considering it'll be Friday and all."

Connor rubbed the back of his neck softly, the gears in his mind turning quickly and the dust being swept off them. "I don't know." Daria bounced her head off her hand, her hair flying.

"It'll be so much fun" she insisted, placing a warm hand on his forearm. "And there'll be alcohol and everything." Connor let out a sigh.

"That's another reason why I shouldn't go. My mom is a cop, she'll kill me. The other is our vice principle. I'll get in so much shit, and is it even the right thing to be doing anyways?" Daria knotted her eyebrows together, utterly confused.

"I don't get it," she began. "You were always up for partying before and especially this summer. What happened since then?" Connor didn't know what to tell her. Hell, he didn't even know what to tell himself. Because she was right.

"I guess… I just…." His words trailed off, and he didn't know what else to say. He knew he was going to be stuck going anyways. Sean would drag him if Taylor and Daria wouldn't be capable to. So he made it easy on himself. "You're right. I'll go."

Daria practically exploded from excitement in her seat. She squeezed both of Connor's forearms, her curls bouncing on her back and a smile spread across her face. "We'll have a blast!"

Connor wasn't convinced.

Spanish went by longer than Connor had hoped. It felt like an eternity until the bell rang and Connor escaped his class, only to have to be stuck to go to another one. English. At least he knew how to speak this language.

He went by his locker, replacing his Spanish books for his English ones before finding his way to Timothy's class. Although he wasn't a fan of English, Timothy certainly made the class one thousand times more tolerable for the boy.

Walking into the familiar class room, he felt his heart sink when he saw that Daria, Taylor or Sean were not present in the class. He prayed that one of them was late. Taylor mostly always was. He found a seat in the back of the class, an empty one right by it.

Please Taylor, Connor thought to himself, sounding desperate. If there was something worse than being in a class you hate, it was being in a class you hate alone. More students filled the room, not one of them being his friends, yet the seat by him remaining empty.

"Good morning class," Timothy smiled as he walked into the room, laptop under his arm along with papers and a coffee held tightly within the other. A mix of tired, uninterested and bored voices filled the room, repeating his words.

"Wow, and it's only the first day," Timothy said, noticing the dull energy taking over the room. "Cheer up! It'll only be a great year if we say it will." Connor rolled his eyes internally, knowing that was bullshit.

"Alright, I'll be taking attendance, so please stay as quiet as possible please," he said, handing three girls who wouldn't stop whispering a look as he did. Knowing that he was the first, Connor got his hand up and cleared his voice.

"Connor Adams Foster." He shot his hand up. "Here!" He exclaimed, everyone turning back to look at him, then losing interest after Timothy called out the next name, changing their gazes from one person to the other to the next.

"Jude Jacob." Everyone looked around, Connor especially. He had never heard that name before. Let alone met anyone named Jude in his entire life. "Jude," Timothy repeated. Before going to the intercom to contact Lena, a voice echoed its way into the class room.

"I'm here!" Everyone's eyes went by the doorway, a tall, lanky boy out of breath. "I'm here." He walked into the class and Timothy handed him a smile. "You know you're late, right?"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry," he babbled, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just new here, and I didn't know where to go." Connor stared at the boy who walked by Timothy, his cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment. The last new kid to ever unexpectedly appear in a grade was Connor. And although he knew what it felt like to be the new kid, and that this was by far the worst part that any new kid could ever face, Connor couldn't help but look away, and neither could anyone else.

"No one was assigned to help you around?" Timothy questioned, and Jude shook his head. "Alright well then I'll assign you someone to help out." Connor knew what was coming. As the son of the vice-principle, a respected, athletic and certainly well-known kid, how could he not?

"Connor." All eyes were now back on him. And this time, so were Jude's. Even from afar they were so piercing. "You'll help Jude out later on, yeah?" Connor knew he couldn't say no, so he nodded, his eyes on Timothy's instead of Jude's.

"Alright, well Jude you can go sit next to Connor as well," Timothy told him, pointing to the seat right next to him. Jude reluctantly made his way towards the back, all eyes on him, and then losing interest once his body was behind them. Whispers were going around class, girls giggling and boys eyeing him suspiciously. Everyone except for Connor, who had his eyes glued onto his desk.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jude sit on his left, looking towards him, and then right back onto his desk. "Alright class! Let's begin! Take out your notebooks and write down the date." Everyone did as told, sharing words in the process.

Connor reached down to grab his notebook from his bag, almost banging his head against Jude's in the process. The two shared a look as they raised. Jude's eyes were dark, yet still managed to shine, certain strands of hair falling onto his forehead lazily.

Unexpectedly, Jude handed Connor a half smile. One of respect. That was the look Connor had handed Sean when he agreed on helping him around school on his first day back when he was much younger. Connor couldn't help but nod back at him, copying his smile.

Jude casted his eyes back down onto the desk, finding a bunch of badly carved dicks on the desk. Connor noticed what he was staring at and raised his eyebrows, knowing that feeling. Not aware that he was even still staring at the boy, Connor was shocked to hear him speak when he looked back at him. "At least they're not old, crusty, vaginas."

No one else had almost seen Connor laugh genuinely in such a small amount of time in getting to know him. Which is exactly why he held himself back, unable to control the smile spread across his face.

"Everyone, for your first assignment, write about the only person in the world who could make you feel as… amazing about yourself," Connor heard Timothy utter out those words as he looked onto Jude, who, he too, had to hold himself back from laughing.

Both of their smiles lasted during the entire class.