Hello you wonderful people! This is set just after Connor and Jude's fight. As always I hope you enjoy and don't be afraid to give me you're feedback or ask any questions!❤️
I just want to scream. I didn't tell her about it. About what we did. He thinks I did and he'll hate me forever. I find myself filled with a parched desire. Wanting to withdraw into myself to spontaneously combust there and then (the moment Connor walked away). Wanting to reprogram reality to a paradoxical universe where things weren't this complicated. Wanting him to be able to feel what I feel without the pressure of disapproval. Wanting so little in return for the reduction of complexity. But no. Again and again and again life seems to taunt me with alternatives that didn't come to pass. Just like before with Callie, something that should have been so easy became so difficult. Breathe. There's no point getting frustrated as nothing I can do will change how Connor feels.
I suppose I'll have to leave the cramped, confined spaces of this toilet cubicle but for now the isolation is comforting. It reminds me of one of my old foster homes. Although not happy, the numbness that had settled in me during my stay in that compact home was a distraction from the aching vacancy in my heart. Similarly as I sit with the lid down and legs hugged close to my chest the same empty emotions begin to saturate my thoughts. Despite being unable to drown all of Connor from my mind I was successful enough to paralyse the pain to a bearable ambient. That's what infuriates me the most. His ability to extract a reaction. Normal people don't want others to do something that gives reason for them to argue. Connor on the other hand uses me to both punish and reward himself in a sickening cycle. If he can resist the urge to act upon his feelings he is rewarded. Unfortunately I am that reward. Connor will indulge in our friendship, pushing the boundaries until he accidentally crosses the line. Coiling back in he will then punish himself for being so daring. In the process utilising me as his own personal flogging tool. By morphing a situation to give reason to degrade me it will undoubtably conclude with a fallout. As a result both of us suffer the loss.
When used like this most would repel the other from their life. Not I though. Connor was my first real friend. Someone other than my sister and newfound family that I had come to love. Originally the love was an innocent display of admiration and appreciation, but like most friendships, it had morphed into a novice lust. A lust that was becoming hard to ignore. Magnetic and alluring it ensnared our youthful hearts and had begun toying with them relentlessly. With no experience and no reason to prepare we fell for societies ramblings. Connor and I are not allowed to want each other anymore than what is expected. If I want to hold his hand again – like the night in the tent – I would have to resist temptation. Nature dictates that we shouldn't be together and humans enforce it. Not everyone is as close-minded. Perhaps more people than not can come to accept others no matter their preference. Both my adoptive mothers understand the way I am. They see me as translucent as I am. I know they know but I'm not ready to solidify it yet. Not without Connor.
I can feel the pins and needles infiltrating my legs, creeping towards my upper thighs. I've been here for two hours. I couldn't face maths. Couldn't face Connor. He doesn't want to be friends with a little bitch like me anyway. No need to agitate him further. If I stay in here till the end of the day I won't need to see him, even if I yearn to sort things out with him. Luckily nobody enters. Strategically locating an area of Anchor Beech that few students wander too meant a lessened risk of someone idling in and capturing me in my moment of vulnerability.
I will have just missed science. Maybe Connor will be wondering where I am. Maybe not. I need to go now. Need to face the horde filled halls. To go home and surrender to the sleep that has crept up on me since my outburst of tears earlier when I'd first barged into the toilets. Standing up and doing that awkward limp styled walk you do when you have pins and needles I hobble my way to the mirror left of the urinals. Staring at the red eyed mess reflected back at me I sigh. Running the tap and splashing drizzles of cold water on my face I exhale heavily releasing any negative vibes that may be trying to oppress me. 5 minutes later: I'm ready.
It's a strange sensation when you're disconnected but aware of your presence. The steady throng of teenagers swamp the halls from left and right as I amble through the middle. Either side of me there are calls and jeers exchanged between friends. A bitter reminder of my all too recent loss. Soon I approach the smooth sanded door with a name plank announcing 'Vice Principle' in gold printed letters. Knocking politely out of respect for Mrs Adams-Foster I wait for a reply.
"Come in." Hollers a woman's familiar voice. Turning the handle I push the door inwards to reveal a modest office with a curly haired woman perched on the edge of a desk. Stepping in and leaning against the door I acknowledge the stain this rooms' history marks on my life. It was his fault: Connor's dad. The worst part is I can't be mad at him because he was right. Ignorance is not something I aspire to possess. Before the camping trip he'd had his suspicions, our attempt at hiding our infatuation for one another clearly lost on him. I was just so worried. I know what it's like to feel like you've got no one to turn to. If I had just listened to Connor when he told me to leave it…I didn't though. I couldn't. Everything got so distorted that by the time I knew what to do my mum had lost her job. A white lie to keep my parents happy and employed didn't seem that event altering. But of course Connor didn't understand it. Naturally me telling them something had happened meant I'd told them the truth. Even after hearing the lie I told the adults he was angry. This room was a place I wanted to spend as little time in as possible.
"You ready?" Lena nods at me as she goes to get her bag from the hanger closest the window. Pausing by the hanger she looks over at me, concern edged on her face.
"Jude, honey, are you okay?" Nodding half heartedly she notices the heavy sorrow emitting from me. "Is it Connor?" Sniffing mildly I can sense the pricking of tears returning. Suppressing them once more I muster another nod. She knows I'm lying but she doesn't press the matter. That's the main thing I love about Lena; she always knows what to say (even if the best thing is to say nothing at all). Heading towards me she places a tender arm around my shoulders, squeezing me into her so I can smell the accented aroma of the perfume Steph brought for her to wear on their wedding day.
The corridors are vacant now as we reach the teacher's parking lot. Hearing the waves crashing against the shore in the background the brine soaked air comforting me I open the door and get in. The drive is placid and I spend it hoping for a time when Connor and I are friends again. A time that may never come.
When we get in Callie and Marianna are sitting on the coach talking about something private. I don't stop to ask questions. Climbing up the stairs I meet Stef on the landing.
"You okay love? Did everything go alright?" She asks with a maternal affection. Responding in the same way I did to Lena, I nod. "Well okay, dinner is going to be a little later tonight." Turning her back she descends the stairs, allowing me to retreat into my room. I say my room but Jesus is lying on his bed reading a book that appears to encompass wrestling positions and little else. Ignoring him I lay on my own bed, rolling over to lay on my side. It feels like everything's falling apart. Things aren't normal. Yet. Everything is so excruciatingly average I am finding it hard to breathe. Please let everything be ok.
