AN: Any time I hear Christina Perry's "Arms" I immediately think of Conby as they were in S3 - that fragile line between pre ship and them being a couple, and of course why would Abby feel this way? So I wrote it, sort of. yup. I might write a second one for connor's pov, but i might not. :v You should already know but I'll tell you anyway: angst.
Abby had always firmly believed she never needed anyone. She was independant, and that was okay. She didn't want to give her heart away. She'd been hurt, time and time again, and walls were built around the more vulnerable part of Abby. Walls she had no intentions of letting drop.
Abby had also always firmly believed, thanks to certain individuals of her past, that she was not worthy of anyone's love: no-one should give their heart to her, for she had locked her own away, and could not love. She was unable to be in love, it was better all around if no one ever tried to fall in love with her. Because they surely would see how broken she was, and would not be able to love her, would not want to even bother.
Until Connor, with his bumbling awkwardness, his randy flirting that slowly faded, his sometimes truly selfless and beautifully good actions and intentions that increased as he matured and grew comfortable around her, entered her life. He followed her like a puppy, hung on her every word, and she knew it and knew it well. Something in her was shattered, broken. He was too good for her, Stephen was much more her type: the kind that was bad for her, where she was bad for him, because it was familiar and normal. She wasn't good enough for sweet, caring Connor, who would do anything for her.
Abby couldn't find a reason to be loved, and that's why she had to push him away.
She felt the backlash of ever sharp tongued word she sent his way, when the way he exuded his love for her grew too strong and she just reacted without thought. It was instinct, but she saw the look in his eyes like she'd kicked a puppy, saw and felt like a knife in her own gut as good as the one in his, the hurt he felt, the hurt she had caused. He shouldn't love her, he couldn't love her. She was unloveable, with her walls and sharp edges.
But somehow he'd slipped into her heart, snuck below and around her barriers. She loved him, and it terrified her. She snapped and snarled, confused him with her changing moods and harsh words. She could lose him at any moment: better to drive him away, make him stop, make him leave - but she didn't want him to! He was her's, she was his! She loved him! Back and forth, dancing around in circles, leaving poor Connor hopelessly confused and frightened of saying the wrong thing, when in fact it was all her. This was all her fault, not his, but she couldn't bring herself to explain it.