Connor's morning had not been great.
To start, he had somehow woken up at five o'clock in the morning, despite having only gone to sleep a little after one. When he had wandered downstairs to make some coffee, his father- assuming that Connor had never even gone to bed- promptly began his daily lecture about how he was throwing his life away, and needed to shape up, and didn't he know how hard Larry worked, only for him to squander it all by flunking out of school and smoking weed. Connor didn't bother mentioning that he hadn't smoked in nearly three weeks. Or that he had managed to raise his GPA a grade and a half in these first months of the year. Or that he had accomplished those things because he was under the influence of his new friend, Evan.
Or that he had a friend at all.
He had fought rather valiantly not to turn the confrontation into an all-out screaming match, and was relieved when his father finally dismissed the subject to leave for work. Connor did his best to take his mind off of it, and managed to fill a little of his time trying (and failing) to fall back asleep, re-painting his fingernails, starting on some homework. He even resorted to attempting a couple of songs on the piano in the family room (which he quickly abandoned when he heard his mother coming down the stairs. He'd been able to keep his composure when dealing with his dad, but there's no way he would have been able to deal with his mom's inevitable obsession with getting him to start practicing again). Every new activity would manage to keep him distracted from his anger for a few minutes, but sooner or later he would find himself back on the brink of spiraling.
When he became too restless to remain inside the house, he went out to the backyard. But soon enough, that too started to feel too much like a cage, and he eventually found himself wandering the neighborhood. He knew from past experience that it was a bad idea for him to drive when he was in this kind of state - as was the case with many things, once he got going, he found it extremely difficult to stop. He would never forget having to call his parents the time his car broke down just outside of Hartford, Connecticut. Walking helped him expel the chaotic energy he was often filled with, and the taste of fresh air helped him to regulate his breathing.
It helped that he lived within (relative) walking distance of Ellison Park. He frequently found himself heading to Ellison. The picnic tables and athletic courts were often well populated, but the forest itself was usually quiet, outside of peak tourist season. Usually he would stay in the parking lot (there was one lot in particular which almost never had any visitors, so he could sit in his car and smoke in peace), but sometimes he would wander along the near-abandoned footpaths, occasionally venturing outside of the designated hiking trails, for total isolation.
On this particular Saturday, however, Connor was a little wary of the park. Tourist season was long over, basically guaranteeing that his favorite parking lot would be deserted. He was riled up still from his fight with his father, and it would be all-too-easy for him to dial up his dealer, and have a fresh supply of pot within the hour. But, he didn't know where else to go. Going to Ellison was as much a habit as the weed itself, and though he knew he was tempting himself, he made his way to the park anyway. He told himself that he could resist. He had been here with Evan a dozen times without smoking, the only difference now was that he was by himself.
He was alone. No one would be the wiser. It's not like he had even told anyone that he was trying to lay off the pot - he hadn't made some sweeping declaration that he was quitting. Honestly, it had sort of been accidental. When he started hanging out with Evan regularly, he had cut back simply because it made Evan nervous (he had refused, scandalized, the first time Connor lit up a joint and offered him a puff), and when his stash had finally run out, it just didn't seem like a pressing issue to re-up.
He reminded himself that he had done a decent job avoiding the urge to go at it with his father this morning. Hadn't he earned the reward? It wasn't like he was addicted to crack. It occurred to him that between abstaining from smoking or fighting with his dad, the fighting was the more difficult to curb. If he had resisted that temptation, surely he could resist this one, right? Connor resolved not to call Hector (he didn't have any cash on him, anyway, and while Hector was overall pretty chill, Connor didn't like the idea of owing anyone anything) as he reached the park, and made his way into the shade of the forest.
It was early October, so even though he had been plenty warm in the sun on his way to Ellison, he found himself pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands as he walked through the trees, and when at last he decided he was calm enough to sit still, he made sure the ground at the base of the enormous tree he sat under was dry. He had left his headphones in his bedroom, so he listened to his quiet surroundings. It was admittedly peaceful at first- the soft rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds all around, and the vague hum of the distant highway on one side of the park. But after a while,the lack of music to focus his mind and isolate him further made him more irritable. The breeze which caused the branches to sway was causing his long hair to tickle his face and neck, the birdsong seemed cacophonous, and the rough bark of the tree was digging into his shoulder blades. His resolution held firm for a good hour or so, but soon enough he found himself contemplating the kinds of things Hector might require as repayment for the I.O.U. Connor would need to ask him, if he did call him up for a delivery. He pulled out his cellphone to check the time (Hector wouldn't be up until noon, at the earliest), when he saw a text notification from Evan.
—
E-man: Hey, sorry to bug you so early on a Saturday. Is there any chance I left one of my worksheets from trig at your house? 8:17am
—
Uh-oh. It had been three hours since Evan had sent the message, meaning he had probably been stressing himself out over it for at least five. Connor couldn't recall seeing the paper that morning, but his bedroom was in a perpetual state of disaster, so it very well could have been hiding under some clothes or a half-empty bag of chips. He was about to reply to the message saying so, but instead, hit the button for voice-call. He put it on speakerphone, dropped the phone into his lap, and leaned his head back.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"If this is about that text, I'm sorry I bothered you so early, I know you're not usually up before ten on weekends, but I think I left my trig worksheet at your house on Thursday and I was hoping to finish it today because my mom is going to be home tomorrow and wants to hang out all day, and I don't want her to feel like I'm making up an excuse not to hang out with her, so I was going to try to get all my homework done today, but I can't find my worksheet from trig."
The words tumbled out of Evan's mouth so quickly, Connor could hardly understand them. In the time they had been friends, he had learned to let it slide, and that once the initial word-vomit was over, Evan could maintain a relatively human pace of conversation.
"I'm not sure, but I'll look for it when I'm back. I can bring it to you later if I find it."
"Oh, yeah. That would be amazing, thanks. I didn't realize you'd be out, or I wouldn't have called. You're probably busy-"
"Ev, I called you."
"Oh. Yeah. That's right. So what are you up to so early?"
Connor internally scoffed at the word 'early'. Evan almost never slept past six o'clock, so ten thirty was practically mid-day for him.
"I went for a walk, I'm at Ellison. Trying not to smoke."
"Why, what happened?"
"Had a match with Larry this morning."
"I- well, I meant why are you trying not to smoke?"
"Just am. I was actually about to call my dealer when I saw your message."
"Oh. Well, good then, I guess? That you didn't call them? If you're trying not to, I mean."
"Yeah, I guess so. You finished with your other homework already?"
"Almost. I'm waiting for Jared to email me his half of our history report so I can finish editing the final draft."
"Hmm."
—
AN
Hi! This is a little one-shot I wrote almost two years ago and never published anywhere. I still love this show, and I want to write more about it, but I found this when I was searching through my old documents and thought I would put it out there. I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know if you would be interested in a full-length fic! 3
