Disclaimer: I do not own ABC Family's The Fosters, nor do I own the flashbacks presented (except for the tent theory, that is mine based off of revealed events from the story).

Connor

Time was something he didn't worry about. It sometimes seemed like hours were minutes and other times like minutes were hours. Daria came again, her honey voice caked with worry and dripping encouragement. That's all everyone wanted from him-to open his eyes.

Such a simple thing should've been easy to accomplish, except he couldn't. His mind pulled him down along the railroad lines of his brain, stopping at the occasional station. The steam and smoke would clear for a second and he'd hear in the faint distance a voice, begging him to just open his eyes, but it was like his brain was saying 'whoops, not yet, son. We arrive at our destination when we're good and ready. Don't worry though, you're still alive and haven't died yet. Here's snippet of reality to assuage you.'

But they were tacit and far in between. He'd loop into a rewind of his life, watching people go by, talking to him like he's walking and talking and aye-okay. He'd visit his mind until his brain pounded and a station would appear and he'd hear his father's voice, forcing him back into his muddled brain, to slip into the fog that clouded over him again and again.

"Is one of you, Jude?" a girl asked at lunch. Jude sat on his right, a vibrant presence, his nails painted a cobalt.

"He is," Connor replied.

The girl smiled and said "enjoy" before she left.

"What was that?" Connor asked after she left.

"I-I don't know."

Connor trained his eyes on Jude as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, tomorrow is kind of my birthday—"

"And how does the cupcake girl know before me?"

"I don't think that's her actual job," Jude sighed. He launched into a story about having the hospital mess up the birthdate by a few weeks and it was always kept a secret that he was actually born on a different day.

"So when can we eat 'em?" Connor asked afterwards.

"I've been getting these messages all day and I kind of need them."

"Here." Connor opened the camera on his phone and snapped a quick photo of the words on the cupcakes. "There."

"Okay." They each took a bite from a cupcake, smiling.

The room had dulled to a fuzzy buzz that flitted in one ear and out another in an insistent loop. He heard quiet voices that cleared between the static that was strengthening in his head.

"He should wake up any day now," a disjointed voice said.

"But he…you say…he needs to wake—" the firm voice of his father complained.

"He will….shouldn't rush…anxiety might be…" the doctor's voice was drowned out by the waves of fog that pulled him under.

The tent was dark except for a dim flashlight pointed at the open ceiling. Jude sat on his sleeping bag across from Connor. He had a book open and he held a flashlight of his own close to the pages to illuminate the words. Connor never understood how someone could like to read for leisure, but he never questioned Jude. Jude was Jude. He didn't like labels and did everything to defy those boxes people put him in. He never took crap for anyone, and the few words he may say cut deep into your skin and seem to lodge themselves in your bones, remembering the anger and hurt in his voice.

Connor couldn't help but glance over at Jude every few seconds. His brow was furrowed in thought as he read, a stray hair dangled over his forehead, and Connor had the odd urge to reach over and brush it out of the way. But he didn't. He contently glanced up from his phone and would watch Jude for a minute before remembering his uber important business on Instagram he was doing. Eventually, Jude caught him staring.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"No, sorry," Connor shook his head. For some reason he wanted the stiff conversation to end and be like it was before when they could talk with ease, but now, it halted in the uneasy energy that nestled between them.

"Why did you want to share a tent with me?" Jude asked as he set his book on the pillow behind him.

"Why wouldn't I? You're my friend," he replied.

"But you never answered my question when you told me you first weren't allowed to hang out with me."

"What question?"

"'If I really was gay, would you still sleepover at my house?'" Jude quoted.

Connor remembered that. His dad had said Jude was gay and that he couldn't hang out with that kind of person. Connor hadn't said a word, but explained to Jude.

"Well, are you going to answer it?" Jude asked after a minute. Jude's eyes were clouded with guardedness and something else-confusion maybe. His hair was sort of spikey like it invited Connor to ruffle it, or just sink his hand in it. Jude's hands were trembling and he wanted to clasp them in his own and force them to stop.

You're not gay, a corner of Connor's mind stated.

But what if you are? Another side battled. That side forced the thoughts he had kept at bay to flood through his head. The way he would notice if there was a tense muscle in Jude's shoulder, or how he had just wanted to run his fingers through Jude's hair.

Jude coughed to bring Connor back to the present. Remembering where he was, Connor nodded.

"Yes."

That side of his head took over. The curious side that whined and replayed every thought like that he had ever had. Before he could consider what he was doing he was leaning in toward Jude. And Jude wasn't leaning away. Connor put his weight in his hands as he leaned forward, Jude meeting him halfway.

It was a tentative kiss, reluctant, curious. It was barely a touch before Connor pulled himself away. It felt better than kissing Maddie or Chelsea in spin the bottle. The first part of his mind screamed at him to stop. What would his father think? What would he do? He was already going to get his ass whooped for sharing a tent with Jude, but actually kissing him?

"Connor?" Jude whispered. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and gulped a blessed mouthful of air.

"Yeah," he breathed. The second part of his mind danced exuberantly and begged for more. So Connor leaned in toward Jude, who didn't back away. Their second kiss lasted longer; Connor's hand came up to cup Jude's cheek. Jude kissed back, applying equal pressure to Connor's lips. Each movement Connor made, Jude copied. They both broke apart at the same time, eyes flitting up at one another.

"Please don't tell anyone, Jude. Not yet."

"Connor?" a fresh voice filled his ears. It was soft but at the same time firm. "You know he likes you." Taylor. Her voice was blunt and to the point. "He likes you a lot, and I know you like him. I saw it when you glanced at Jude instead of Daria when I mentioned getting drunk and making out."

There was a laborious pause. Static began to fill, but Connor didn't want to go under. He wanted to hear what Taylor had to say-he had to.

"But, let's not talk about that," she continued. "I saw it when you two were talking before though. He's an amazing friend to wait for you to figure yourself out-and don't lie to me, Connor, I see the way your eyes light up when you're with him. It's like something out of a romantic comedy. If you wake up, I think you should tell him how you feel-with words. Don't worry, I won't tell."

Taylor left and the fog had drifted for a minute-maybe it was an hour-allowing him to think about what she had said. Jude still liked him. And he liked Jude. The words seemed to fit well in his mind, like he was supposed to think those words over and over.

I like Jude. I like Jude. I like Jude. The thought played like a broken record, never ceasing as he felt the same drowning sensation he would feel when the fog was about to take control. He didn't want to leave Taylor, but he knew that he couldn't see Jude if he woke up, not when his father would blame Jude for the shenanigans and forbid him from hanging out with his friend (?)-crush(?)- and sinking away into the fog was the best way for him to see Jude.

AN: And that's chapter 2! Please leave a review (I always love those) and if you would like me to continue with chapter 3 leave me a pleasant review!