Dear Reader, I know this isn't my best work, but I hope you like reading this series of one shots! I'll be putting the summary in the author's note for each story, and trigger warnings if there are any. Enjoy!

Summary: Connor attempts to be nice to his family

Trigger warning: brief mention of self-harm.

Bad Habit

I have a lot of bad habits.

Like- A LOT.

I get angry instead of crying.

I bite my nails when I'm scared.

I smoke to numb my pain.

I get aggressive when I'm mad at life.

And I'm bad to my family.

None of them deserve it (maybe Larry… a little).

No.

None of them deserve it.

But here we are summer before my senior year and my family hates me, and they think I hate them.

I don't, I really don't.

But I don't know what else to do.

Mom is just working her butt off trying everything she can to "fix me", but I know she has good intentions.

It just gets so fricking annoying sometimes- okay, a lot of the time.

Dad, well… we don't get along, at all, but I don't think he knows any other way to help except sticking to something.

And Zoe, I don't know.

Neither of us treat each other well, but she has a reason: I'm not a good brother to her.

I slam on her door when I get high and yell and then when I'm not I just can't help but be a jerk to her.

I know it bothers her, even if she's so darn good at hiding it.

What I want to do this summer: lay in my room and do nothing and cry.

What I'm going to do this summer: Try and be nicer to my family.

Will it work? I mean, honestly, probably not, but it's worth a shot, I guess.

Let's see how this goes.

I walk down the stairs, searching for one of them.

Ah, there's Dad, sitting at the table.

Attempt one out of three, starts now.

Here goes nothing.

I sit down at the table, across from him.

"Hey." I say, glancing down at my nails.

My saying hi to him is unusual, so it earns me his look up from his newspaper. "Hello."

I nod towards the paper. "Whatcha reading?" I have absolutely zero interest in what he's reading, but I know my parents- you gotta get their attention somehow.

"The obituaries." he provides, looking down again.

"Anyone good die?" That might've ruined this attempt- Larry hates my sarcasm.

He laughs.

He laughed. "No, not really." setting it down he looks at me.

Like really looks at me.

I don't know when the last time was this happened.

"What's that cut on your neck?" My hand immediately flies up to touch it.

"I dunno. I didn't realize I had one." I did.

I scratched so hard at my neck last week that it wouldn't stop bleeding for a solid five minutes.

He nods. "Have you seen your mother?"

"No. Why?"

"I was just wondering."

I stand, saluting him with two fingers. "Well, thanks for the chat."

He raises his brow. "You're… welcome?"

Turning on my heel, I make my exit.

Time to find Cynthia.

"Mom?" I call out, walking towards her spare room.

She appears from behind some boxes. "Yes, Connor?" she wipes her forehead.

"Need some help organizing in here?"

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

Act like that doesn't sting. "Yeah."

She nods enthusiastically. "Then of course! It's a mess in here."

It doesn't look that bad, but compared to the rest of our house, it is a mess.

"What do you want me to do?"

She pauses, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor. "Can you move these boxes to that corner." she pats the boxes, then points to the back left corner.

"Sure." I move them, then walk over to where she's now organizing some books. "What next?" My back actually already kind of aches, but I figure moving like three boxes isn't enough for all I've put her through.

"Oh!" she scans the room. "I forgot to buy more broccoli for the dinner we're eating tonight- could you run out and get some?"

I shrug. "Sure, I guess."

"Thanks, honey." Mom pats my shoulder, smiles, then turns back to keep working.

"Yeah."

Attempt number three: Zoe.

I crashed my car awhile back, and Zoe just got her license, so I need to borrow her car.

This isn't going to be pretty.

Going up and down the stairs is something I've barely done over the past month and a half.

I don't come out of my room much at all.

I've reached Zoe's door.

I need to be nice to her.

I need to start being nice to her.

Knock knock

"Mom! It's way too early for me to set the table!" she shouts after she mutes her guitar.

I didn't know she sets the table every night.

I just assumed Mom did that.

"It isn't Mom! It, uh it's Connor!" I call, scratching the back of my neck.

"Whatdoyouwant?"

"I'm going to- Can I um use your car?" Had to catch myself with that one.

Being nice takes some work.

The door unlocks with a click and we come face to face. "Why?" she keeps her hand on the knob, ready to shut me out.

"Mom wants me to go buy some broccoli for dinner."

She arches her brow. "And you're going to do it?"

Not going to lie, that sort of hurts, but I don't blame her. "Yeah. I asked her what I could do to help her out."

Her mouth hangs open.

I almost laugh. "Yeah I know. Can I use the car or not?"

She shakes her head. "I guess."

"Great- anything I can pick you up?"

I think she can't handle all this. "I-" she rakes a hand through her hair. "No."

"Do you… want to come?" I offer, kind of hoping she'll want to, mostly hoping she'll just be warmed by the offer.

She glances over her shoulder, back at her guitar.

When she turns back to me, her eyes are untrusting, but intrigued, longing for a chance, a change in me. "One sec." she shuts her door, I hear some things being knocked over, then it opens, and she has her sneakers on and bag on her shoulder.

She brushes past me, rushing down the stairs.

I guess we're going to the grocery store.