pills ✧ tronnor

four

After my encounter with Connor, Rosa had encouraged me to go and socialise for an hour or so before dinner. She'd offered to walk me to the main area where patients gathered, but I told her I'd prefer to make my own way there. Luckily, she didn't take my response the wrong way and was perfectly understanding about my want for independence.

The main social area didn't appear particularly social. For a start, virtually nobody was speaking to eachother; more interested in their own activities to even notice the other people around them. Not that I particularly minded that, though. I was quite happy to submerge myself in something and pass the hour as quickly as possible without people even taking a second glance towards me. Already, I was desperate to go home. I didn't want to be here and I didn't feel like I belonged. Well, nobody belongs there, but I felt fine - I didn't think there was anything wrong with me.

After taking a quick glance around, I spotted an empty chair by the window and made my way over to it. Once ensuring nobody was already sat there, I took a seat. The table it was attached to had sheets of plain paper and coloured pens arranged neatly on top of it. Well, something had to entertain me for sixty minutes. Absent-mindedly, I picked up one of the fibre tip coloured pens and began to scribble across the paper, not drawing anything in particular. I quickly changed to a different colour, overlapping the lines of the two colours which contrasted strongly against eachother - pale green and dark red.

"What'cha drawing?" I looked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"You have a real knack of asking questions, don't you?" I asked sarcastically, forcing myself to smile so I didn't come across rudely.

Connor chuckled to himself. "It's a talent."

'Yeah, an annoying one.' I thought, but chose not to speak my mind.

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not drawing anything. I'm just trying to pass the time. I want to get out of here."

Connor pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. "But why?"

"Because I don't want to be here."

Connor perched on the edge of the table, his legs swinging above the ground ever so slightly. "And you think the rest of us do?"

I looked down at the sheet of paper in front of me, the contrasting colours making my eyes feel funny. "That's not what I meant."

"Well then what did you mean?" Connor's tone was sharper.

I sighed. "I don't know."

"You wanna be more careful what you say in here, Troye. You're lucky it was me you're speaking to. I stopped letting stupid comments get to me a long time ago, it's all bullshit."

I gave an awkward half-smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Connor quickly brushed off what I'd previously said, the cheerful tone returning to his voice almost immediately. "Where'd you get that scar?"

His right index finger was outstretched and pointing to my wrist. I quickly yanked the sleeve of my jumper back down to cover it. "Has anyone ever told you it's rude to point things out like that?"

Connor shrugged. "Probably."

"What's your deal, Connor?" I snapped unintentionally.

Connor looked slightly taken aback, but again brushed off what I'd said. "I don't have a deal."

"I only got here just under two hours ago and you're bombarding me with stupid questions, and you've hardly given me any room to breathe! Why are you so determined to be my friend?"

This time, Connor looked genuinely hurt. I felt bad for what I'd said, but I wasn't going to admit that. It was obviously time that someone put him in his place, even if it made me the bad guy for being the one to do it. People never normally tested my patience this much, but Connor was something completely different. He was extremely charismatic - the complete polar opposite to me, being much more withdrawn and socially awkward. Connor stood up from his seated position and looked to the floor.

"We all need a friend in this world, Troye," he said, his voice much quieter and monotone than usual. He turned on his heel and began to walk away, before quickly turning back and looking directly into my eyes. "Even you."

---

All I wanted was to go home. Yet, I knew that no amount of wishing or hoping I could do would decrease the amount of time I had to spend here. The thought of having to spend another four weeks with Connor, who now seemed to have a strong dislike to me, made me feel sick. Normally, when I had to deal with people who didn't like me, or who I didn't like, back in school, it was easy enough to just walk away and avoid them as much as possible. Yet, in this type of institution, that wouldn't be anywhere near as easy. We were practically forced to socialise with the other patients - probably to stop us from going insane. I regretted the way I'd spoken to Connor, but it seemed to have done the trick. For the remainder of the evening, even during dinner, he hadn't even looked my way. It was almost like I'd become invisible to him or something. Not that I minded - it was nice to have peace and quiet. Maybe one day I'd try and reconcile things with him, but for now I was happy with everything the way it was.

"Will you take your medication for me?" Rosa appeared in the doorway with a small box in her hands. I sat up on my bed and nodded.

I was having to take anti-depressants to try and balance the chemicals in my brain, as their theory was that it was depression that was pushing me over the edge. Maybe it was; I didn't know or care anymore. If taking the medication would satisfy them and show some sort of progress that would allow me to get out, I'd do it without hesitation. After taking the medication, I got into bed and pulled the duvet over me, nestling my head into the pillow. Almost as soon as I closed my eyes, I was asleep. For the entirety of the night, my dreams were haunted by a pair of bright green eyes and a piercing white smile.

a/n: i'm sorry troye's being a douche to connor lmao :(((

is anyone actually enjoying this? because i'm loving writing it soooooo

keep smiling and have a great day!!