Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind - Treebros

Chapter 36: "Happy Isn't Healing"

Thursday, May 23rd

I hate this.

I hate it so much. I hate how awkward and tense I feel. I hate that I feel anything but at ease with Connor.

But we're sitting here in painful silence, a few feet from each other. I'm making more meaningful eye contact with Connor's pillow than I am with him.

We planned this last week when we were having a good day. A good day where we talked to each other and laughed and neither of us looked or felt like we were being held at gunpoint. But now the day's come and we're back in a downward swing.

"That's a pretty painting," I comment, looking at a canvas with a rainbow eucalyptus tree on it hanging above Connor's bed. It wasn't here the last time I was. I haven't been to his house in a month. Why didn't he tell me about it? We used to tell each other everything.

"Thanks. I did it as part of a project," he says, nodding and looking at the painting. Then the window. Then the painting. Then his hands. But not me.

"Cool," I hum. I look around his room, searching for something to start a conversation when my eyes lock onto his bookshelf.

"I don't remember your books looking like that." He loves his books. He should have told me. Why don't I know anything anymore?

"No, yeah, I rearranged them," Connor says, eyes passing over me for the barest second before settling onto the shelf.

"It looks cool," I state, grinning. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't even care that I'm trying to get us back to normal.

"Yeah. I got tired of alphabetical order, y'know, so I did color-coded."

"Cool." What happened that drove us apart? I glare at the unusual mess on his floor. I know what happened. Ty came after me again and Connor didn't even bother to notice.

Anger courses through me, and I choke on the too-hot tension sitting in the air and resting heavily on me. I think it's actually warm in here. Is it me?

"Why is it so hot in here?" I ask, flapping the collar of my shirt to fan air onto my face.

"AC's been broken for a couple of days now. It's supposed to be fixed tomorrow," Connor answers.

"Okay. Um. Okay."

"I can give you a T-shirt to change into if you want," he offers, finally, finally, looking at me. His lips are pressed together in a way that could hardly be called a smile.

I can't remember the last time we actually kissed and meant it.

"That would be fantastic, thank you," I say, politely smiling. Connor grabs a shirt lying on his floor and tosses it to me.

Not bothering to leave the room or turn around, I peel off my shirt. It's damp with sweat.

He doesn't even look at me. I'm his boyfriend, and I'm standing shirtless in the middle of his bedroom, and he's more interested in his flaking nail polish than me. Am I the problem? Did I gain weight or something?

Self-consciously, I tug on his shirt. At least it smells like him.

"You're not gonna put a T-shirt on?" I ask, crossing my arms to hide my scrawny arms. Maybe I should start working out too. Connor might start loving me again if he does.