Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind - Treebros

Chapter 19: "Stars In Your Hair"

Tuesday, December 25th

Freezing cold air bites at me. Chilly fingers of wind worm their way through my coat, and I wrap it tighter around myself to keep them out. Snow crunches under my boots.

"Why do we have to walk?" I complain, blowing on my hands and rubbing them together to bring back some semblance of feeling.

"Because it's nice outside," Connor says. His nose is pink from the cold, though, so I don't know how he can call this weather 'nice'.

With numb fingers, I pull out my phone and fumble with it for a few minutes.

"It's 27 degrees," I state.

"That- okay, y'know what? It's still nice outside. It almost never snows," Connor claims. A gust of cold air blows by, and I press my shivering body against his.

"It's snowed almost every day for a month," I refute.

"Not true."

"It's December. We live in New York," I say. I like snow. It's pretty. I just hate the cold.

"Shut up. Let me enjoy my snow," Connor grumbles, pulling his hat farther down past his ears. I wish I was smart like him and brought gloves.

"Why can't you enjoy it by yourself? Why am I being dragged along?" I ask. Cynthia technically never asked me to get the groceries, just Connor.

"Would you rather stay in my house with a bunch of people you do not know?"

"Still think we should have driven. My hands are numb," I groan. I'd be surprised if I have all my fingers when this is over.

"Warm them up then," Connor suggests, sticking his out. A warmth squeezes my chest. Before I can take it, though, he pulls it away.

"Wait, wait, sorry. Is that okay? I don't want to push your boundaries, don't do anything you're no-" I roll my eyes, and grab his hand.

"It's fine. I'm fine," I assure him, and he nods, guilt disappearing. As if he'd done something wrong.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, tugging me closer to him. I stumble and laugh.

We've been a lot more tactile since that day in the bathroom. I mean, I guess it makes sense, I literally wrapped myself around him like a sloth. Sometimes, though, I have to force my way through the disgust that dances across my skin. But I do it anyway. I won't let Ty steal this from me. Even if it means Connor's the only person I can touch for a while. Some days, he is.

"You don't have to ask me every single time you touch me," I say, swinging our hands back and forth. It's been two weeks and he hasn't stopped.

"I do," he insists, a laugh in his voice as he watches our hands sway.

I don't want to be reminded of how weak I was every time we touch. How weak I am.

"I'm okay now." Lies. "It barely even happened, alright? I just made a big deal about it, I'm sorry," I whisper, like someone passing by could hear me. As if anyone except for Connor is insane enough to be walking in this weather. Or me.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop being sorry for that? If it had you breaking down then it clearly wasn't nothing," Connor says.

I frown, and wrap my scarf closer around me. It shouldn't affect me as much as it did. So many people have gone through so much worse and been fine. I don't have the right to be this upset. I need to get over it.