helpless| connor x male reader

2

november 4th, 2038.
jimmy's bar.
cloudy with high winds and a chance of thunderstorms.
9:16 p.m.
---

(y/n) clinks his beer against Hank's and the two down their glasses. "Ch-cheers, old man." he slurs with a wide grin.

Hank chuckles, "Cheers for what?"

"I don't know, Misshter Anderson," he laughs then hiccups. "Oh, excuse me."

"You're on your fourth beer and you're already drunk, ha, I wish that were me." Hank sighs and throws down a shot.

"What- what'd ya say?"

"Nothing, kid," he shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Oh-oh," (y/n) puts his hand on Hank's upper arm. "Okay." he rubs his face and itches his eyebrow. "Heyy," he trails off. "Thanks, you know fo- for hanging out with me, ya know?" he looks at Hank with furrowed brows.

"Huh?" Hank gives him a look.

"Did I say something stupid?" he slides his glass around the counter as if trying to grab the attention of the bartender, then smiles up at Hank with a wide toothy grin.

"No, you didn't." he smiles back softly. "I think it's about time we get you home, though, huh?"

"No! I want to hung- hang out with you!" he grabs one of Hank's hands. "It's not even late!" he whines like a child. Hank smiles at this and pulls his hand away from him.

"Okay, okay," Hank puts his hands up. "We can stay awhile but no more alcohol for you." 

"What? Wha- Why?" 

"Because you've almost fallen out of your wheelchair three times." Hank laughs.

"That's not even funny," (y/n) huffs. He draws shapes with his finger on his shot glass. Hank simply chuckles and waves the bartender over.

"A water, please." Hank tries to hold in laughter as he watches (y/n) bob his head to the music and slide his finger across a shot glass and the counter. "Make that two," Hank adds.

10:47 p.m. reads Hank's car clock. (y/n)'s body is slumped in the passenger seat and Hank leans over him to buckle him up. "Hank, what are- what are you doing?" (y/n)'s eyes blink open then shut repeatedly.

"Nothing," the buckle clicks and Hank closes the door then walks to his side. Hank turns the key in the ignition and heavy metal begins blasting. 

"Ohh oh, I love this song, Hank, I love this song!" he smiles, puts his hands in the air, and sings along poorly as Hank drives.

---

(y/n)'s arms are wrapped around Hank's neck as the two stumble to his house; he refused to be in his wheelchair. Walt steps out and opens the door. "Hello Mr. Anderson," Walt greets them and (y/n) throws his arms over to Walt's neck and smiles.
"Walt, Wally," he hums. "Walt, I'm hungry," he whines. "Make Hank some food, too."

"Ah no, I'm fine. I've got to go anyway." 

"What?! Hank!" (y/n) grips Hank's jacket. "Stay with us, stay with me and Walt." he tries and fails to pull Hank closer. 

"No, I've got to feed Sumo." 

"No, you don't!" he shouts.

"Hey," Walt interrupts. "He needs to go home, (y/n). I will hang out with you, okay?" 

"Okay," he drawls. "Bye Hank." he finally lets go of his jacket.

"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson." Walt waves then picks up (y/n) and carries him inside.

"I'll bring you to your room and bring some food up to you, okay?" Walt explains in a soft, lulling tone. (y/n) mumbles and places his face closer to Walt's chest. Walt takes this as a yes and heads upstairs. Walt sets him down gently onto his bed and pulls over his covers. "(y/n)?" asks Walt, softly.

"Walt, I'm not hungry."

"I'll let you rest then," Walt says and promptly turns around.

"Goodnight, Walt," he mumbles. "Goodnight."

---

Rain pours over the mansion, drowning planted flowers, and flooding rabbit holes. The glass door leading from the garden into the main hall is wide open. (y/n) runs down the stairs and falls to his knees. A huge puddle of thirium lays underneath Care. Her arms are spread out with one hand lying in the threshold. (y/n) tries to get to Care but an invisible wall blocks him. He pounds his fists, kicks, and runs into the wall, trying to break it down. To no avail, the wall still stands. A shadowy figure walks through the garden doorway and stands over Care. (y/n) screams at the figure, cursing them and screaming how much he hates them. The figure shifts their gaze from Care's corpse to (y/n). (y/n) gets a small flash of the assailant's face. The assailant runs off into the garden and down the street. 

---

(y/n) wakes up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down his face. It's my fault. I let them get away. He wipes the tears from his face and checks his phone. There are a few messages from Captain Fowler that he didn't feel like reading. A few others from his sister and Hank. He didn't bother reading any of them and put his phone back on his nightstand. He sighs, lies back down, and just stares at his ceiling until he falls back asleep.