Warning! Offensive language, violence, physical and verbal abuse, and self-harm will be found in this fic. If you are offended/sensitive to/triggered by any of the aforementioned topics, continue at your own discretion. The views of the characters "Adam/Jake" in this fic are not a reflection of the author's own views and are not supported by the author.

"I don't want you to go," Connor complained. He padded behind his mother as she checked around their now empty apartment, making sure that she had missed nothing during packing.

"Now, baby," his mother hummed, pausing to kiss him on the top of his head, "you know that this is only temporary. Losing my job … It wasn't something I planned on. And if there's a company in England offering me money to go there … Honey, I can't say no."

Connor knew all of this. He'd heard it before. He didn't want his mother to go, because without his mother, he would have to live with his father. Connor loved his father; that wasn't in question. He would just prefer not to live full time with Adam. His father was controlling and possessive. He liked things to be just right, and Connor was included as one of those things. Adam had very strict ideas about how his son should act and present himself – rules that Connor didn't always adhere to – and it often caused friction between them.

"I know," Connor muttered. "But, how long, Mom?"

"Just until I can find a job in the U.S. I'm looking. And this company has a satellite in L.A. Maybe I can get transferred there."

L.A. wasn't quite where Connor wanted to be, but it was closer than England. Not that he was going to England, mind you. He was going a few streets down.

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered, as they hustled out of the apartment.

His mother slipped the key under the doormat, as she'd been instructed to do. She then dropped her hand to her son's, curling her fingers around his. Connor held onto her, as if he were five years old again, as they walked down to the car and started the short drive to Adam Stevens' home.

"I'm going to miss you too. More than you know. But, I'll be home for Christmas, which is three months away, and there's the internet, we can even see each other through that thing!"

Connor had to grin at that. He couldn't hold the expression, though, as they pulled into his father's driveway. Connor was apprehensive about living with Adam because, aside from every other weekend, he barely remembered sharing a residence with his father. His parents had separated, and subsequently divorced, when he was very young. He only remembered them apart.

"It's going to be fine," his mother assured him, as if she were reading his mind.

Wishing he could agree with her, Connor climbed out of the car. His things had been moved into Adam's house the day before. All that was left now was for Connor to say goodbye. It was a lot harder than he thought it would be, to hug his mother and know that he wouldn't be seeing her, really seeing her, for months. She kissed him on the forehead, walked him to the front door, kissed him again, and then she was gone.

Connor stood on the front porch, watching her drive away. He stayed there long after he couldn't see or hear her car. He didn't know why he was rooted the spot; he just knew that he was and he wasn't ready make himself move quite yet.

He stayed still as the door cracked open. He knew it wasn't Adam – his father worked until five every night and it was only four. Rather, it was his older cousin, Jake. Jake was almost sixteen, and had lived with Adam since he was seven years old. Jake's parents, Adam's sister and brother-in-law, had passed away in a car accident and Adam had taken the boy in. Connor never quite knew what to do with Jake; growing up, they had never spent any time together. When Connor saw Adam on the weekends, Jake made a point to be scarce. Connor always had the feeling Jake wasn't fond of him, and his cousin did nothing to contradict that now.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Jake demanded. "Because Uncle Adam left a chore list and he'll be home soon."

Connor closed his eyes for a moment, before he turned and soundlessly followed Jake into the house. While he might not know what to do with Jake, he did know that any instructions Adam left were to be followed quickly and without question.

He had just finished sweeping the kitchen when Adam paraded into the house. He rubbed the top of Connor's head as he walked by his son; it was the most physical affection that Adam ever offered either of the children in his care. He gestured for Connor to follow him as he went to the coat closet to shed himself of the day's outerwear.

"Ground rules," Adam said sternly, "no friends here on school nights. You must be home by nine on weekdays; ten on weekends. Chores will be completed daily and you will not go anywhere before finishing them. Understood?"

"Yes," Connor agreed. He had expected his father to be stricter than his mother. While he didn't necessarily like the new rules, he was glad that Adam had laid them out like this, rather than leave Connor guessing at how he was supposed to act.

"Good." Adam turned to look at Connor, and his expression changed. "One more thing."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Do you still talk to that Jude kid?"

"I-I," Connor stuttered, knowing what Adam thought of Jude, but there was no point in lying. "Yes."

"That needs to stop immediately."

"He's just my friend," Connor protested. "He's not … like that."

Not gay; not what his father hated, only because he thought that gay was a disease and Connor would catch it.

"Don't lie to me," Adam shook his head. "I can spot one of them from a mile away. I won't have him turning you into something you're not."

"He's my friend," Connor fought again. He hadn't stood up for his relationship with Jude before, causing an awkwardness to enter their friendship. Since Connor was with his mother most of the time, it was easy for the two of them to try and forget what Connor's dad had said; how he had tried to keep them apart. Now that Connor was going to be with Adam full-time, he knew that he would have to fight to keep Jude in his life. It was, in his opinion, a worthy battle; one that he would not back away from. "You can't become gay by hanging out with gay people, even if he were like that!"

In truth, Connor had no idea what Jude's sexuality was. He didn't think his friend was confident in that aspect of himself either. Either way, it didn't matter to Connor what Jude's sexuality was; it had no bearing on his own, whatever his own was (not that Connor could admit confusion, especially now that he was in Adam's house. He was straight; he wasn't allowed to even think of anything else). Jude was his friend, his best friend, and he wasn't about to let him out of his life.

Connor never saw Adam's fist coming toward his face. He just found himself stumbling backward, his hand coming up to cradle his mouth. He felt blood drip onto his fingers from where he'd bitten his own lip. He looked at Adam, shocked. His father had spanked him once or twice before when Connor had broken one of his rules, but he had never outright hit Connor; not like this.

"My house, my rules," Adam explained to him. "And if you can't learn that, I'll have no problem teaching it to you again."

Appropriately cowed, Connor choked out a "Yes sir" and crept back to the kitchen.

Should've kissed you there

Connor woke up with a start, slamming his hand down on his alarm clock. He melted back against his mattress, the quick movements of the morning causing his body to ache. He listened to Jake begin to bustle around their shared room. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, his dream weighing heavily on his mind. He'd been dreaming of the party the Adams-Foster children had thrown when Stef and Lena had gone away; the night he and Jude had played spin the bottle … the night they had almost kissed. For whatever reason, it was that moment that Connor had been dreaming about last night; the moment Connor had almost kissed his best friend. The image of Jude, slowly leaning toward him and the feeling of anticipation as Connor's heart hammered in his chest, was stuck with Connor even as sleep faded and wakefulness overtook him. He shook his head at himself, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to think of Jude that way and that he couldn't laze around in bed all day; he had to get ready for school. He sat up very slowly. His aching body screamed at him every time he twitched a muscle. By the time Connor was in a standing position, he was heaving from the effort, the bruises across his torso throbbing.

"Man," Jake croaked, "you look like hell."

Connor shrugged and his shoulders throbbed; the pain in the outline of a shoe. Late last night, his father had caught him between the shoulder blades. He had barely been with Adam for two weeks now, but already he had become a mess of bruises and angry scrapes.

"If you just left that kid alone, Uncle Adam would leave you alone," Jake advised.

"Jude's my best friend," Connor explained as he had so many times, to both Jake and Adam. "I can't abandon him."

Not again, anyway.

"You should," Jake repeated. "He really can't be worth that. Best friends come and go."

"Jake …" Connor began, but he couldn't think of anything to say. If Jake didn't understand by now, Connor didn't think he ever would. It was a little sad to think that Jake didn't understand the concept of best friends; of loyalty and love. Rather than trying to make Jake see the world from his point of view, Connor repeated, "He's my best friend."

Jake snorted and left the room. Connor dressed as quickly as his sore body would allow him to. He collected his homework from his nightstand and headed down to the kitchen to grab the lunch he'd made himself last night. He entered the kitchen as Jake struck up a conversation with Adam.

"Hey, Uncle Adam?"

"What, Jake?"

"Did you know Connor talks in his sleep?"

"He always has," Adam mumbled, not paying much attention to Jake."Even as a baby, he was spewing gibberish."

Connor found himself smiling at Adam's comment; liking the thought of Adam remembering things from when Connor was a child. It was always his mother that had told stories from when Connor was young; he couldn't remember his father ever sharing a sentimental moment.

"Well, he kept me up last night," Jake complained.

"You've been sharing a room for two weeks. If you haven't learned to live with it by now, I can't help you." Adam tossed the morning paper down onto the top of the kitchen table.

"Did you hear him?" Jake pressed.

Connor paused by the fridge, wondering what his cousin's preoccupation with Connor's sleep-talking was. Jake hadn't mentioned it this morning, which was surprising. Jake hadn't made it a secret to Connor that he didn't like the fact that his younger cousin was around and never missed an opportunity to gripe to Connor about how annoying Jake found him.

"No. The perks of sleeping downstairs," Adam huffed.

"He kept talking about Jude," Jake blurted, "screaming his name and talking about kisses."

Connor felt his body freeze up as Jake finished talking. In a rush, the exhilaration and the feeling of need in his dream came flying back to him. He hadn't thought about the ramifications of that nightly fantasy coming through his lips, but he'd also never thought that Jake would sell him out like that. While he knew that Jake didn't approve of Connor's friendship with Jude, if only because it made Adam angry, Connor hadn't thought that Jake would do anything that would actually sic Adam on him. Whatever Jake had to say about Connor, he usually only said it to Connor. Adam didn't like to hear or whining and bothering him wasn't in either of Jake's or Connor's best interests.

"Jude," Adam growled. "Connor, why do we keep having this conversation?"

Connor kept his eyes lowered to the kitchen floor. Adam wouldn't accept anything he said.

"Connor." The boy heard the scrape of chair legs against the floor as his father stood up. "Answer me."

"I don't know," Connor cried, knowing that the explanation wouldn't be enough.

I should've held your face

Connor sucked in a deep breath, just as Adam's hand caught him around the throat. He waited for a brief moment, knowing that Adam would quickly let go. He was usually careful about touching either Connor or Jake in visible places; he was smart and determined not to be caught. Adam released Connor's throat, but immediately afterward, a fist caught Connor in the stomach. He groaned, and, as he began to double over, an elbow caught him in the back. Connor completely collapsed to the ground, falling onto his hands and knees to keep his face from hitting the ground. He stayed like that, heaving for a satisfying breath.

"Why do we keep having this conversation?" Adam shouted. "That boy has no place in your life!"

The tip of Adam's shoe came up, driving into Connor's chest. Connor wheezed, unable to gather up any words; couldn't figure out how to say anything.

"Explain!" Adam demanded, kicking at his son's chest once more.

"He's … my … friend," Connor choked out weakly, knowing that he had to say something.

"Not anymore," Adam decided that this friendship, this preoccupation, with Jude had gone on long enough. He brought his foot up and planted it squarely on Connor's back, flattening him against the kitchen floor. Connor dropped silently, too defeated to even cry out. Adam beat his foot down on Connor over and over again, battering it against his spine. "Today, you tell that fag to fuck off and leave you alone. Jake will know if you disobey, so I suggest you listen this time or it'll be a hell of a lot worse when you get home."

He delivered a single kick to Connor's ribs, before he turned away from his son, leaving for work as if nothing had happened at all. He looked unruffled about his son's appearance, something that made Connor feel bitter. After Adam had walked out the door, Jake picked up Connor's book bag and his own, slinging one over each shoulder.

"Come on," he beckoned to his younger cousin. "We're going to miss the bus."

Connor picked himself up off the floor and then he lifted his shirt up. The new wounds (at least he ones that he could see) were red and scraped in a few places, but there was no blood. He put his shirt down, turning to look at Jake.

"Why?" he demanded of his cousin.

"Walk and talk," Jake invited, seeming as undisturbed as Adam had about the vicious attack he'd just witnessed against his cousin; one that he had put in motion.

Connor shuffled slowly out the door, Jake trailing in his wake.

"Why?" Connor repeated.

"You need to do what he says," Jake explained with determination. "And you need to do it now. If you don't break up with Jude today, I'll tell Uncle Adam a lot worse."

Connor gaped at his family member, unable to form a coherent thought. He didn't even think to defend against Jake's subtle accusation that he and Jude were more than friends. All he could think about was the pain slipping through his body and about what was sure to come if he didn't comply with Jake's and Adam's demands. He didn't want to give up Jude, but he didn't know how much longer he could live in this hell without complaint, knowing that it would continue to get worse the longer he held onto his best friend; the friend he regularly dreamt of kissing.

"And, Connor," Jake added, "remember, if you tell anyone about Uncle Adam, I'll kill you myself, because I'm not losing my home again."

Then Connor really didn't have a choice; no matter what, he was going to suffer.

I should've watched those eyes

"Are you okay?" Jude asked him.

"Yeah," Connor answered quickly, trying to get his rapid breathing under control. He'd just had an unfortunate run-in with Jake in the hallway. Jake had narrowed his eyes and punched him in the stomach, reminding Connor that he still had to "break up with your little twink before I have to tell Uncle Adam that the happy couple is still a couple".

"You sure? You don't seem okay." Jude knew that something had been off about Connor lately; he wasn't stupid. He knew when something was wrong with his best friend. Originally, he'd thought that it was because of his mother leaving for England because he knew Connor was missing her and that Connor was adjusting to life with his domineering father and strange cousin, which they had both known would be hard. Now, though, Jude wasn't so sure that was all that was wrong with Connor, but his best friend wouldn't open up to him. Jude didn't know how far he could push Connor, though it pained him that he had to push for information at all. He wished that Connor would just tell him.

"Fine," Connor insisted, and then he spotted Jake. His cousin sauntered across the lunchroom and found a seat behind where Connor was sitting. Connor knew that Jake was trying to listen so that he could confirm to Adam that Connor and Jude had broken up, and he thought that Jake was probably getting a twisted sense of satisfaction from Connor's pain as well.

"So," Jude began, trying to think of a subject to switch to.

Jake cleared his throat loudly, and Connor winced, thinking of what he had to do and the alternative if he didn't. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to think that he could take the beatings but he knew that he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough, and he was so, so sorry for that.

"Umm, Jude, there's actually something I need to tell you."

Jude turned his head, giving Connor his full attention. He hoped his best friend was about to open up and let him in. He wasn't used to Connor keeping secrets, they had been unnaturally open with each other throughout the course of their friendship and it was strange to look at him and know that Connor was hiding something away.

"Anything," Jude prompted when Connor looked lost in thought.

"It's hard to say," Connor said slowly, trying to hold off on saying the awful words.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to tell Jude that they couldn't be friends anymore. He couldn't bear to cut his best friend out of his life. The only thing he wanted less was to get hit again. He forced himself to take a deep breath, knowing that if he let the thought of what would happen at home terrify him now, what he had to say would come out all wrong. If Connor played his cards right, if he destroyed his friendship with Jude where Jake could hear but kept it from being too horrific, then Jude would get mad, but not so mad that he would never forgive Connor. While Jude was angry, Connor could figure out how to circumvent Adam's rules and explain the fight to Jude in such a way that wouldn't reveal his new home life and he would avoid making Jake hate him even more. There had to be a way that he could keep Jude's friendship, avoid Jake's hatred, and avoid Adam's fists, all while keeping the terrible secret of abuse. He just needed to find that way.

"You can say it," Jude encouraged. "You know I'm always listening."

This was going to kill Connor.

"We can't be friends anymore," Connor blurted. He darted his eyes away from Jude's face as he said the words, but not quickly enough that he avoided seeing the broken expression that rushed across Jude's face. He wished he didn't have that image of Jude's face in his head. He only wanted to see Jude, the first day they had met; Jude, happy on his adoption day; Jude, about to kiss him.

Connor jumped to his feet then, knowing that the bell to end lunch was about to ring and knowing that one more thing he couldn't bear was to hear Jude ask 'why'.

Instead of run in place

Connor headed swiftly out of his last period class. He wasn't just rushing so that he could avoid Jude but also because Adam was picking Jake and him up from school – Jake had a dentist appointment at three-thirty. Connor had almost made it out to the pick-up area, had even spotted Adam leaning against his car with Jake beside him, when he felt a hand reach out and grab his arm. Icy cold panic flooded through him. He knew that it was Jude.

He trembled and tried to continue walking. He didn't want to have this conversation at all, but he especially didn't want to do it where Adam could see. He tried to get away from his friend but Jude was faster than Connor despite the fact that he had shorter legs. Jude took a few long, broad steps and planted himself in front of Connor.

"What's going on?" Jude demanded. Connor had been ignoring him in the past few hours since he had said that their friendship was over and none of it was fair. "You haven't been yourself lately and I know you didn't mean what you said earlier." Jude couldn't handle it if Connor did mean it. Connor was his best friend. "Is it your dad? Is he doing what he did before?"

"It's not …" Connor shook his head. He couldn't say anymore. His family had essentially gagged him. "Jude, I can't do this. You just have to leave me alone. We're not friends anymore."

"You need to tell me what this is about!" Jude shouted.

"It's not about anything," Connor denied. If Jude just let him go now, this could all still work out. "Just leave me be."

"Not until you actually talk to me."

"Jude!"

"Just tell me why," Jude argued. "Give me one reason why us not being friends is a good idea because I can't see it, Connor. I don't understand you!"

"Jude," Connor repeated.

"That's not a reason," Jude pushed.

Connor had never seen him like this, and it made him hurt even more. Jude was so determined to keep their friendship, and Connor wished he could afford to be the same way. But with Adam watching, he knew that he couldn't. He was likely going to get it because Adam had spotted him with Jude. He was going to miss Jude, more than he could say, but there was still a chance that he could fix it. He could convince Jude that secret friends was the only way, or start sneaking around on Adam on nights he thought he wouldn't get beat for it. Beyond that, he could fix it when his mother came home and he was out of his father's house for good; when he had the freedom to tell the truth and know that he would survive it. But that could only happen if Jude let him walk away now.

"Why?" Jude whispered, and the fact that he had gone from angry to pleading was going to be Connor's undoing. "Why, Connor?"

Connor looked over his friend's head to see the look in his father's eye. Any thought that Connor might have had about covertly telling Jude the truth vanished. Now, Connor was just scared.

"Leave me alone," Connor insisted, trying to make himself sound forceful. He went to walk away, but Jude blocked his path, and Connor couldn't bring himself to forcefully shove the other boy out of the way. He knew about Jude's past; knew how he had been treated by past foster fathers. Connor would never sink low enough to hit or shove Jude.

"No. Explain this."

And just like that, Connor thought of the one thing that would get Jude to leave him alone, and it wasn't a raised palm. He thought of the evil word that his father had used in the kitchen this morning. If he said that to Jude, their friendship would be over, but there would be no getting it back. He wavered for a moment, feeling as if he were going to be sick. He looked over Jude's head and saw Adam's impatient, angry face and knew that he had to do it. If he didn't, he might just be killed.

"Jude," Connor said assertively, hoping that his friend wouldn't notice his voice cracking. "It's because you're a …" he couldn't do it. He was going to throw up instead.

"I'm a what?" Jude hissed. "What?"

The word exploded out of his mouth before he could stop it, launched by every ounce of self-preservation that Connor possessed. "Because you're a fucking fag and so are your moms and I can't spend any time with someone like you."

I should've called you out

Jude gaped, his mouth opening and closing, although he was utterly speechless. Connor felt paralyzed as he watched anger and sorrow bloom across Jude's features.

"I can't believe you just said that," Jude finally exclaimed, because he really couldn't believe it. This person in front of him wasn't Connor. It couldn't be.

Connor couldn't believe he'd said it either. He couldn't believe he'd used such an awful slur against his best friend. Not just his best friend, but against two women who Connor respected, and even loved, dearly. There were few people in this world like Stef, Lena, and Jude. The three of them had unnaturally large, giving hearts. The three of them, he knew, would have walked through fire to save someone on the other side. Connor loved all three of them, had counted them as his family, and now he'd delivered such a terrible blow against them, and he'd never get the chance to apologize or explain, because there would be no coming back from what he'd said.

"Jude," Connor whispered, but there was nothing more that he could say. There was no defending himself against the use of that word, even if he did have the opportunity to do so, but that opportunity wasn't here; not with Adam hanging in the background, his eager fists ready for any excuse to be used.

"You said that about me, about my moms," Jude cried, anger more characteristic of Jesus than of him taking over him. "You're such a jerk!"

He reached out, shoving Connor with both hands before he could think about stopping himself. Jude wasn't one to use violence, but in this case, he didn't know what else to do, and his hands just moved before he knew what they were going to do. The taller boy cringed as Jude connected with fresh bruises; felt physically sick as Jude thrust his opens palms against Connor's chest, but it had nothing to do with the violence that Jude was displaying. Connor knew that he deserved it; deserved everything that Jude was throwing at him and more. He felt ill because of his own actions; felt ill because he had hurt Jude with such astonishing accuracy that he knew he could never take it back.

"How dare you!" Jude yelped. "I guess we really aren't friends."

A tear dripped down Jude's face as he pushed Connor out of the way, turning his back on his former best friend, if they'd ever been such at all.

I should've said your name

Connor suppressed his own urge to cry as Jude walked away. On trembling legs he took a step, and then another, toward his father and cousin. Jake's expression was unreadable but Adam's was clear as day. He was angry. He had to have known, by Jude's reaction, that Connor had done just as he had asked. Connor had cut the boy that Adam was so inexplicably threatened by, out of his life.

There was no more Jude and Connor.

There was no more best friends.

"Get in the car," Adam growled. "I can't stand around here all day waiting for you. We have places to go."

"Dad," Connor forced out, feeling as if he needed some recognition for what he'd done; as if he needed some validation to let him know that cutting Jude out of his life was the right thing to do, in some twisted way, because he knew that it wouldn't ever be right.

"In," Adam hissed. "Now. We'll talk about your little conversation later."

"I did what you asked!" Connor protested.

He stood in the parking lot as Jake clambered into the passenger's seat. Adam didn't turn to look at Connor as he dropped into the driver's side.

"Get in the car, Connor, or I'll leave you here."

Connor wrapped his hand around the door handle but, before he got into the back seat, he turned his head, just to see if he could get one last glimpse of Jude.

I should've turned around

Connor could only watch Jude's back as he retreated. His thin arms were curled in front of him and he was hunched forward. Connor was struck by the need to dart forward, to run away from his father and tell Jude he was sorry; to tell Jude why. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jude, cry with him, and tell him the real why, not the awful excuse he'd uttered only moments before; the word that scarred his lips and made him feel awful.

Connor swallowed and brought himself back to reality. Jude no longer cared about the real why. He'd destroyed any part of Jude that cared about him. He no longer had a best friend and, after two agonizing minutes, Connor already missed him. With a hiccup that Connor wasn't able to suppress, he slid into the backseat, hanging his head between his knees, so he no longer had to face the truth of what he had done.

I should've looked again

Shaking and angry, Jude didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to look at Connor. He couldn't believe that his best friend would say something like that about him. Not only about him, but about Stef and Lena, who deserved ugly words even less than Jude did. He wrapped his arms around himself, confusion and anxiety overtaking him.

He just didn't believe it. Jude just couldn't believe that it was Connor who had said that. It had been Connor's mouth, but he didn't think that it had been Connor's own mind that had made him say it. There was something wrong here, but he just couldn't think of anything that could make Connor say that. For Jude, there was nothing there was nothing that justify saying what he had. But maybe there was … Maybe …

Jude turned around.

He saw Connor get into his father's car, not looking upset in the least. He looked utterly fine with what had just occurred and what he had just said. He must have seen Jude looking at him, because Connor ducked his head down, coward-like, so that Jude could no longer see him. Hate bubbled within Jude. He hated Connor for what he had said; the slur that he'd used against Stef and Lena. And, no matter what had happened in Connor's life recently, he had no right to say those things. If Connor was having trouble, he knew that Jude would listen; Stef would listen; Lena would listen. Connor had people who would be there for him.

… Would have been there for him.

Jude couldn't be friends with someone who didn't trust him. Jude couldn't be friends with someone who would attack him and his family with such brutal words for absolutely no reason. Until lunch, Connor had been normal. At least, as normal as he had been since moving in with his father. If Connor couldn't trust him, Jude couldn't wait around for him. 'Best friends' was supposed to mean that this didn't happen. Fights, sure, but nothing like attacking Jude's parents' identities or Jude's own confusing identity, which Connor knew he was struggling with. Jude couldn't think of a reason why he should fight for Connor when Connor was clearly ready to get rid of Jude.

The decision to let Connor have his way, to remove Connor from his life, ravaged Jude on the inside. He wanted his best friend; wanted the person who had never been anything less than understanding. But the person who said those things wasn't his friend. And Jude just couldn't forgive him this time.

He collapsed to the front lawn of the school, curling his knees up to his chest. He locked himself into the little ball position, trying to process what had happened, even though it was clear: Connor didn't care; Connor was gone; Connor hadn't so much as looked back.

And if it didn't matter to Connor, it didn't matter to Jude either.

Even if he was crying.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

"Stop! Please! Stop!" Connor cried out, scrabbling along the hardwood on his knees.

He crawled through the living room, knowing that he didn't have to get away from Adam completely; he just had to get away faster than Jake, who was currently right behind him. It was a horrible thought, but as Jake had often warned him, it was survival of the fittest in Adam's house. And, when Adam was drunk (which, mercifully, wasn't often), it became a literal act of survival. In normal cases, it took something to set Adam off; usually it was breaking one of his precious rules. When Adam wasn't sober, there was a pure, unadulterated hate that roared from Adam and he took it out on his nephew and son.

Jake reached out and pulled Connor's leg from under him, slowing the younger boy down. Jake hurtled to his feet and flew past Connor, rushing up the stairs to their shared room, abandoning his cousin to Adam's rage. Connor desperately tried to get to his own feet, to get up the stairs as well before Adam caught up to him. But Connor moved slower than his cousin, a product of how frequently he enraged Adam, and his father reached out to grab him.

Connor squawked as Adam caught him by the collar of his shirt. Connor wrinkled his nose as his father yanked him forward, turning him so that his face was almost touching Adam's chest; the foreign smell of alcohol was filling Connor's nostrils. He almost threw up from the acrid fumes, and when his father opened his mouth, an even worse scent washed over Connor.

"What are you running from?" Adam asked him, words slurring. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"No!" Connor exclaimed, because aside from Jude, what would he have to hide? And there was no Jude. There hadn't been for almost a week now. At school they were distant from each other, both of them knowing that there was no way to recover. No words had been exchanged at all; and though Connor regularly found himself turning to stare at Jude, Jude was never looking back. "There's nothing, Dad!"

"What about your little twink?" Adam demanded.

"No!" Connor repeated, whimpering as Adam shook him. "We're not friends. It's what you wanted, Dad! I did what you wanted!"

Adam narrowed his eyes. "You're weak, Connor, and I don't have weak kids."

Connor struggled against Adam's hold on his shirt. He squirmed and Adam let go. Connor nearly fell in surprise from the lack of tension. With a snap, Adam's fist reached out and caught Connor in the stomach.

"Stop!" Connor shouted, although he knew it would make no difference.

"You need to be a man," Adam exclaimed, delivering another blow, even as Connor began to curl up, trying to protect his sensitive skin from his father's anger. "Why aren't you a man?"

"Dad," Connor blubbered.

"No crying! Crying is for the weak; for the fags. Are you one of those?"

"No!" Connor screeched, as there was no question of it. Fag meant something horrible; something that would get him beaten. And while some logical part of Connor's mind still realized that Adam's skewed view of gay people didn't equal the reality of gay people, that logical part was growing smaller and smaller; slowly being smothered as Adam's way of thinking took over. Now, whenever Connor heard the word gay, Adam immediately jumped into his head, and he found himself thinking that no one should be like that; that it was the worst way to live life and people should just be straight.

"Good."

Adam grabbed Connor by the shoulders, picking him up before shoving him to the ground. Connor's head slammed against the bottom stair, and he saw spots. He felt flush and dizzy as he tried to sit up, the world spinning around him. He placed his head back down against the cold floor, knowing that moving right now would be the wrong decision. His father saw his actions as a sign of vulnerability, and he kicked at Connor's ribs.

"Weak!" Adam shouted, and Connor did not have the strength to defend himself.

I 'm staring at the mess I made

Connor blinked once, then twice, trying to focus on the whiteboard at the front of the room. His vision blurred awkwardly and Connor dropped his gaze away from the day's lesson. He ran his thumb along the edge of his desk, stopping when he reached the desk connected to his.

Science had become Connor's least favourite class. While Jude was in most of his classes, science was the only class that they sat next to one another in. It was hard to sit next to Jude for an hour, sometimes two, and have the word that Connor had said sitting between them. The day after Connor had said that word to Jude, Jude had sat down next to him, Connor could feel the waves of anger and confusion rolling off Jude. He had thought that emotion was awful; didn't know if he could handle his friend having such a low opinion of him. That pain was nothing compared to what he felt currently; to feel the pain and indifference that Jude radiated toward Connor now killed him even more.

Connor's headache pounded with a renewed force as he thought about Jude. Connor slowly settled his head against the top of his desk. It was nice and cool, and he hoped that it would help his head. He'd been hurting ever since he woke up this morning, and part of him wondered if his headache and sometimes blurry vision had to do with his run-in with the stairs last night.

"Connor?"

The boy blinked at the sound of his name, uttered by Ms. Alcott.

"Connor?" She repeated.

He forced himself to sit up and look at her. He wavered in his seat, feeling as if he was about to fall over. Ms. Alcott looked at him with concern, walking down the rows of seats to crouch next to Connor.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked in a low voice.

"Absolutely," Connor lied, knowing that he couldn't afford to tell the truth.

"I think you need to go to the nurse," Ms. Alcott decided for him.

"No!" Connor protested. If he went to the nurse, there was the risk that she would notice something wrong with him – she would see the bruises and wounds – and she would tell someone. "I'm fine, Ms. Alcott. My cousin just kept me up late last night."

"You look really ill," Ms. Alcott insisted. "I'm sending you to the nurse. Jude will accompany you, right, Jude?" She said it in such a way that there was no room for argument on either boy's part.

"Sure," Jude agreed, and his reluctance licked at Connor like fire.

Connor stood up slowly, the feeling of nausea getting worse as he moved.

"Here's a pass." She slipped the paper to Jude. "Just see Connor to the nurse's office and then head right back to class."

"All right." Jude accepted the pass and then opened the door for Connor.

Connor shuffled out the door, feeling like a very old man, as Ms. Alcott began to teach again. Feeling awkward, he struggled to keep pace with Jude as the shorter boy led the way down the hall. Connor wished there was something he could say that would get Jude to slow down a little, maybe say something. Even though Connor was the one to drive him away, Connor missed his friend. With every day the passed, Connor regretted his words more, but he could think of no way to take them back. He couldn't heal the rift that had been created between them.

"Jude," Connor groaned.

"What?" Jude snapped, stopping mid-step at Connor's voice. When Connor didn't answer, Jude turned his head to see Connor puking into a garbage can.

"I feel sick," Connor lamely explained to the inside of the trashcan.

And despite himself, Jude both cracked a smile at the words and felt a tug of sympathy toward Connor.

"Come on, I'll help you to the nurse." Jude put his hand on Connor's shoulder, and he felt the other boy flinch and shiver underneath his flat hand. More carefully, Jude wrapped his other hand around Connor's arm, guiding him into a more upright position. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"I don't know …" Connor said. "But, I'm not going to the nurse."

"You're sick," Jude pointed out.

"I'm just not going," Connor explained cryptically. "Go back to class, okay?"

Jude hesitated, about to say something more, but then he realized what this was about. Connor just didn't want him around, of course. They weren't friends, and Connor clearly hated him, just as Jude had really known all along.

"Fine. Bye." Jude grumbled, and turned his back on Connor.

Connor almost said something, almost called after Jude to tell him that he hadn't meant it the way that Jude had taken it, but he didn't have the opportunity. He was sick again.

I'm staring at the mess I made

Connor was sitting alone in the lunchroom. He was tucked into the very back corner, picking at his sandwich though not really eating it. He was distracted by his fellow students. He couldn't help studying them and wondering what secrets people were hiding – if any of them were hiding the same secret he was. He didn't even think he'd notice if they were.

His gaze landed on Jude, who was seated with a group of boys that he'd worked on a recent English project with. Connor couldn't help but feel jealous of the group. Not only did he wish to be part of it, but he wished he could talk with Jude like that again. He wished that he could make Jude laugh, sit next to him at lunch, and just be in his presence again. He wished to be Jude's friend again.

He missed Jude Adams-Foster more than he imagined he would, and he'd imagined that he would miss Jude immensely.

Connor was startled from a loud noise coming from his side. He jumped out of his skin, expecting the bang to be followed up with an act of violence committed against him. But when he turned to look, it was only Jake, come to verbally antagonize him, as Jake often did.

"Mooning after your boyfriend?" Jake teased.

"No," Connor snorted, the internal battle beginning to wage inside of him at the words. One part of him – the part of him that sounded so much like his father that it made Connor want to tear at his brain just to get it to stop – began to scream that a boy having a boyfriend was wrong and unnatural; something that should be criminally punishable. The other art of him – the tiny, squeaking part of him that still sounded like the Connor Stevens who lived in a nice apartment with his single mom and who had a best friend named Jude Adams-Foster – began to cry out for Jude and for the days when Connor could think innocently about kissing him without feeling like he should begin to physically berate himself.

"'Cause I'll tell Uncle Adam."

"Can we at least wait until the headache totally stops?" Connor bargained bitterly.

"I'll hold onto this little tidbit," Jake decided. "Until I need something from Uncle Adam … or you."

"Whatever." Connor didn't care. Jake was the favourite in Adam's house; Connor was the go-to punching bag. He knew that he was going to get hit for something, he just didn't know what.

"Whatever … right." Jake snorted. "You know as well as I do that you care, whether it be about what I tell Uncle Adam, or what Uncle Adam does, or about your boyfriend."

"He's not –"

"I know," Jake interrupted. "You broke up with him."

Connor wordlessly groaned, standing up and beginning to walk away from his cousin.

"I'm just saying," Jake called after him, "that you can't lie to Cousin Jake."

Maybe not, but Connor could ignore him.

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Connor was shaking, but it had nothing to do with the chilly wind. He was nervous. He was terrified of what he was about to do. He was terrified that he would fail. He was terrified of what would happen after if he succeeded. He didn't know what was going to happen whatsoever, and that was making him feel physically ill. The last time that he had wandered into the unknown, he had ended up in his father's house, to live with his father and cousin.

The unknown was one of the worst things to happen to him.

Connor rubbed his hands up and down the length of his arms. It was Wednesday and Lena didn't stay after school on Wednesdays as long as she did on the other days. Jude often waited for Lena on Wednesdays, although he did it outside in the courtyard. Connor waited for his once-friend to emerge, hoping that he did so soon.

Jude appeared, just as Connor had willed him to. He didn't notice Connor, hidden how he was behind one of the trees. He sat down at one of the picnic tables and pulled out a book, spreading it open on the wooden table top. He bent his head over the pages and became absorbed.

Go now, Connor told himself, although his feet became rooted to the ground.

He knew that talking to Jude was going to be hard. He didn't know if he was going to be able to make himself tell the truth after so long of hiding it away. He didn't even know if he could make Jude listen to him. After Connor had said that three-letter word the weeks had dragged on, awkward and horrible. They had avoided talking to one another, and Connor was sure that Jude hated him – not that Connor blamed him; Connor hated himself too. He didn't even know why he thought Jude would want to talk to him. What could he possibly have to say that Jude would want to listen to? Just look at what he had become. Angry, hidden, homophobic, constantly at war with himself. Connor was a disgusting mess, filled with disgusting thoughts and covered in disgusting wounds. Jude couldn't even look at him during classes anymore; didn't glance at him when they passed by one another in the hallways. What would make Connor think that Jude would sit through an explanation of the pity-party Connor couldn't stop holding for himself?

Self-doubt welled up within him.

Just because Jude was the only person that he could talk to, just because Jude was the only person in this world that Connor felt he could open up to or turn to for help, didn't mean that Jude was going to stand there and listen. Connor had treated the other boy beyond horribly. He'd attacked something personal about Jude, something that was sensitive to the other boy; and he'd attacked Jude's family, something that was more sacred to Jude than anything else.

Connor turned around in that instant. He'd already hurt Jude enough; he didn't need to be a burden.

And so he walked away, never realizing that Jude had known he was there the whole time and that Jude had been holding his breath, praying that Connor would come sit down.

Should've held my ground

Burden.

The word reverberated over and over again in Connor's head. He'd never thought about that word in conjunction with himself before but, now that he had, it was all that he could think about. He couldn't stop obsessing about the fact that he was a burden. He'd been a burden to his mother – she'd had to move to England in order to support him and herself. He was a burden to his father, who had been happy playing the role of weekend parent to Connor. He was a burden to Jake, who'd hated the intrusion of his younger cousin in his house. He didn't quite know if he had been a burden to Jude during the friendship, but he certainly would have become one, given enough time. He was glad, then, that he had separated himself from Jude before Connor could tear him down completely, although Connor knew that he had, in the end, hurt the boy he couldn't mentally stop referring to as his best friend.

Connor felt as if he was going to explode. His self-hatred and anxieties battered against his brain until he felt as if he were going to throw up. He needed something to relieve the painful thoughts that were always rushing around his brain. More than that, he needed to punish himself. He knew that Adam was going to get him as soon as he arrived home – Connor had spilled the paint he was supposed to redo the garage door with – but that wasn't what Connor meant by punishing himself. Adam would hurt him anyway; that wasn't punishment.

No, Connor needed to punish himself with real pain. Not the dull, thudding blows Adam would deliver; pain that only crossed his flesh. No, Connor craved punishment of the crisp kind; a brutal slice that would reach his soul.

Connor was a burden, through and through. Connor was useless, through and through. He hated himself, and deservedly so. He deserved to hurt as much as he hurt others. Just by being, Connor hurt others. By being confused about his sexuality and wanting to kiss Jude, Connor was burdening his father and his cousin, forcing them to act the way that they did toward him. If he were a better person, a normal person, then he wouldn't need to do this. But he was an unnatural, sick sort of person, and this was his penance.

Penance, penance, Connor repeated in his head as he dismantled one of his father's razors, slicing open the pad of his index finger as he pulled the thing apart. When the individual razor blades fell to the tiled bathroom floor, Connor stopped and stared at the thin metal pieces for a long time, knowing what he had to do next. He slid to the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the door. His father wasn't due home for another hour, and Jake was out for the night, but it was just an extra security measure. He needed to be alone for this.

Connor carefully picked up one of the blades, holding it between his cut index finger and his thumb. He inspected the razor blade. He'd never seen one out of the razor before, and, not having the ability to grow facial hair yet, he didn't really have experiences with razors. It didn't even really look like it could hurt someone; it looked dull.

But Connor knew that it could hurt. Even if he hadn't heard stories of self-harm, his stinging finger, still oozing blood, could testify to a razor blade's ability to slice. His finger hurt, but it was the right kind of hurt. It was the kind of hurt that Connor knew that he deserved to feel. He angled the razor blade between the fingers on his right hand and then he exposed his opposite wrist. He stared at the underside of his arm for a moment, studying the blue lines of his veins.

He pressed the razor blade against his skin, forcing it down as far as he could stand so that it would dig into him more. He then pulled it across his arm as quickly as possible. He hissed at the burning pain that immediately followed; more acute than he had imagined it being. The cut immediately throbbed, as if it had gained a heartbeat of its own. Connor watched his arm bleed for a moment, trying to adjust to this new pain.

It wasn't pain like when Adam hit him. It was pain as in relief; as in, it was releasing the troubles and anxiety that had been building up within him. It was the kind of pain that Connor knew he deserved, and it felt as though it filled something within him.

Connor pressed the razor to his skin again.

This was his apology.

I could've been redeemed

"Connor, I swear to god, if you don't get out of there right now, I'm going to lose my mind."

Connor's heart jumped into his throat at the sound of his dad's voice. He lurched to his feet, tugging his sweater sleeve down over his new wounds. He quickly, though carefully, picked up the razor blades and slid them into the pockets of his jeans. He then cracked the bathroom door open, peering at his father.

"Sorry, Dad," he mumbled, stepping under his father's arm.

Adam grunted. "Did you put the lasagna in the oven like I asked?"

"Yes."

"What about the garage door?"

"…There, uh, wasn't enough paint."

Adam made a low noise, one that Connor interpreted to mean 'I know there was enough paint; I'll figure out what you actually did later'. Thankfully, Connor was saved from explaining further as the timer for the lasagna went off.

"I'll … go get that," the boy stuttered to his father before he dashed down the hall, off to rescue dinner from the oven.

He carefully pulled the dish from the heated oven, relocating it to the table. He then set the table – only two places, because Jake wasn't coming home. He poured water into both his and Adam's glasses, knowing that was the only thing that Adam liked to drink with dinner. Everything prepared, Connor sat at his placed and waited for Adam to join him. His father arrived swiftly, cutting the lasagna.

The meal was quiet and uneventful, until Adam noticed something.

"What did you get on your sweater?"

Connor looked down at the front of his sweater, wondering if he'd dripped tomato sauce on himself.

"Your sleeve," Adam directed the young teenager's attention.

Connor looked down at his sleeve, to the arm that he had cut open earlier that afternoon. The underside of his grey sleeve was slowly turning a rusty colour; blood from the cuts that Connor hadn't had time to tend to.

"Must have caught it in something …" Connor suggested lamely, hoping that Adam would accept that.

"Roll up your sleeve," Adam commanded.

Connor hesitated.

"I wasn't asking."

Connor grimaced as he tugged his sleeve upward. His hoodie had gotten stuck in the blood as it dried, and it ripped painfully at his new cuts. He rolled his sleeve up past his elbow, but kept his self-inflicted wounds angled downward. He didn't know how Adam would react. Connor had anticipated keeping this a secret, like everything else going on in his life.

"Flip your arm over," Adam ordered in a tone that showed he was quickly losing patience.

Connor revealed his cuts.

"What is that?" Adam stood and seized Connor's forearm, fingers digging into the sensitive skin.

Connor screeched but, as always, Adam took no notice.

"That's what pussies do to themselves!" Adam yelled. "Are you a fucking pussy, Connor? Are you a faggot?"

"No!"

"Then what is this? What is wrong with you? What did I do to deserve a son like you?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Only little bitches say they're sorry," Adam spat, twisting Connor's arm to a near-unnatural angle. "Little bitch."

"Let go!" Connor pleaded.

Adam released Connor's arm and Connor only had a moment's respite before his father proceeded to do much worse.

For every second chance

Connor sat across from Jude. It had been just over a month since they'd last spoken as friends and Connor didn't know what to say. It seemed that Jude didn't either; he remained utterly focused on the in-class science project that had just been handed to them. Connor was ecstatic to be back in Jude's presence, even if it was accidental. Partners for the project had been pulled from a hat, and it was only an act of fate that Jude had selected his name.

"So," Connor began, transfixed by Jude's face and how he looked exactly the same. It had only been a month but he had changed so much that he half-expected Jude to be altered in some way too. Connor was glad that he wasn't; glad that Jude was just Jude, because that was what had always mattered most to Connor.

"So," Jude repeated, never looking up from the sheet of paper.

"We should talk," Connor said. "About … things."

About how he was sorry. About how he was fighting against his father's voice in his head, determined to try and find his way back to his true self. About how he needed a safe place, and that place might be Jude. About how he wanted his best friend back. About how much he hurt on the inside. About how he knew he was selfish, pouring this all out on Jude, but he was so sick of missing him and Jude might just end up being his hero, if he hadn't shattered his best friend completely.

"Uh," Jude managed, lifting his eyes. He didn't look directly at Connor, but he glanced around the room.

"Please," Connor begged. "I … I really need to talk to you. There's some things that I need to tell you. I need a chance to explain."

Jude looked down at the desk again.

"Come on," Connor implored.

Jude finally looked at him.

That changed its mind on me

"The only thing we need to talk about is this project."

"Jude –"

The thinner boy swallowed, but then cut Connor off. "I mean it. I really have to mean it. You said something awful Connor and I'm not putting up with it."

"I can –"

"Don't say explain … because I don't care. That can't be explained away. There can't be a good reason for that."

What if there is? Connor wanted to ask, but he didn't. He knew Jude was right. There was no good reason. He shouldn't have said that word, shouldn't have used it against Jude, Stef and Lena. There was no coming back from that.

"You were supposed to be my best friend," Jude continued, "and you said those things about me and about my moms. And then you just stopped talking to me. You stopped being my friend. And … I … I can't, Connor. We're not friends. You made that decision. You can't change your mind now."

But what if it wasn't me? Connor wanted to cry. It had been Adam, controlling his son's life from behind the scenes, hanging physical violence over his head in order to get Connor to do what he wanted.

"Jude," Connor repeated, but unlike last time, he had no idea what he was going to follow it up with.

"Let's just focus on the project," Jude suggested.

"Yeah," Connor agreed, feeling horrible about himself and the whole world around him. "The project."

I should've spoken up

"Uncle Adam?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" Adam asked without looking up. He was cutting his steak into pieces before eating it.

"Connor and Jude are back together."

Connor's heart stopped in his chest. What on Earth had made Jake think that he and Jude were friends again? Aside from their on-going in-class project, he and Jude hadn't had any contact whatsoever. Jude hated him – and rightfully so. Connor knew that there was no regaining their friendship, and that, just like Adam had wanted, there was no way that he and Jude would ever, possibly, 'get back together'.

"Is that so?" Adam put down his knife and fork, suddenly interested in what his nephew had to say. "What makes you think they're back together?"

He looked at Connor out of the side of his eye. Connor was too busy looking at Jake, hoping that this was where his cousin tripped up and revealed that he was lying about the whole thing. He didn't know why Jake would tell Adam something like that, but assumed it was because Jake had done something wrong and was trying to keep Adam's attention off his own folly by making Connor out to have done something worse.

"I heard them, earlier, making plans. They're meeting in the library."

"It's because of a project," Connor explained in desperation. "Science. I didn't pick him to be my partner. We didn't pick our partners."

"Or it's because we have different library periods, and Connor knows I'd never be able to catch him in the library."

"That's dumb!" Connor squawked, because it was the weakest explanation he could have heard.

Adam folded his fingers together, studying his dinner. Finally, he said, "Jake, finish your food. Connor, upstairs with me."

Feeling cold all over, Connor stood and followed his father to the bedroom that he shared with Jake. He had never heard his father sound like that before – so calm in the face of a brewing storm. He didn't know what was about to happen and that made him extremely nervous. Usually, Adam's temper flared and he grabbed the boys wherever they stood. Connor couldn't remember a moment when he'd redirected them to a different location.

"Sit," Adam commanded, and pointed Connor to Jake's bed.

Connor sat.

I should've proudly claimed

"We need to talk about this Jude kid," Adam said finally. "Really talk about him."

Connor wondered what that meant, but he wasn't about to ask. He was only going to respond to the questions Adam asked. Hopefully he managed to stay out of trouble, or at least minimize the trouble he was going to be in, by following that path.

"Is he gay?"

It seemed to Connor that this was something Adam should have asked the first time had accused Jude of being so, but he kept that thought to himself.

"No," Connor stated. Jude hadn't officially come out as anything. And, as they were thirteen, Connor didn't see why Jude would have to officially come out as anything just yet. Adam watched his son's face, looking for any of the cues that Connor was lying to him, but none appeared.

"Are you sure?" Adam pushed.

"Yes," Connor said, although that time his face gave him away. As Jude wasn't sure of what he was, Connor couldn't be sure.

Adam leaned into his son's face, studying him closely.

"Have you ever kissed him?"

"No!" Connor answered, and that was true.

"Have you thought about it?" Adam continued.

"No," Connor lied, and this was a blatant one. Even before they had played spin the bottle, Connor had wondered what it would be like to kiss Jude. A lot of kids at school had teased Jude about being gay and their teasing had gotten Connor thinking about what it might be like to kiss a boy, specifically Jude. When the opportunity during spin the bottle had arisen, Connor had been anxious to see where that scene was going to take them, even though it ended up not taking them anywhere. And now, after all that had happened, Connor was even more confused because he still thought about what it might be like to kiss Jude, even though they weren't even friends anymore, even though Adam said that being gay was the worst thing that a person could be.

Adams eyes narrowed and Connor knew that he had been caught.

That oh my head's to blame

Connor had never felt like this before. He had never felt so achy all over; had never felt his father's fists be quite so furious as they slammed against Connor's flesh. It wasn't long before the young boy became incapable of conscious thought; the pain his father was causing him was overriding everything else. He could barely make himself open his eyes and focus on the light fixture on the feeling.

He felt hot all over and his mind felt fuzzy.

Black edged at the corner of his vision.

Connor took a deep stuttering breath, and then Adam's fist caught him in the stomach.

He cried out, trying to suck in air but it wasn't happening.

The black took over his vision, until Connor found himself letting go.

For all my heart's mistakes

Connor looked around, immediately knowing where he was. This was the Adams-Foster house. He was in Jude's and Jesus' shared bedroom. His best friend was sitting on the floor, leaning against his own bed, playing on the handheld gaming device that Connor had gifted him.

"I beat your high score," Jude stated without looking up.

"Mine?" Connor asked, unsure of who else Jude would be talking to.

"Yeah." Jude laughed. "Who else?"

That was the moment Connor realized he was dreaming or hallucinating or something, because this wasn't a memory, but they were friends.

"No way," Connor breathed, playing along.

This dream was the embodiment of everything that Connor currently wanted. He felt no aches and pains from bruises; felt no sore tug from the cuts on his arms. He was in Stef's and Lena's house, and he and Jude were friends again. He would even bet, if the dream got that far along, that his mother would be the one to pick him up.

"Way," Jude argued, pausing the game to look at Connor. "Maybe you're not as good as you thought you were."

"Don't test me, grasshopper," Connor narrowed his eyes in a teasing manner, and Jude chuckled.

"The student has surpassed the teacher," Jude informed him. "You're just going to have to deal with it."

"At least give me a chance to reclaim my title," Connor protested. He edged closer to Jude, so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, their arms brushing against one another's, and had a simple touch ever felt so wonderful? "It's only fair."

"I beat you, that's fair."

And then Connor looked down at the screen.

"Jude! You're one point above me."

"Still counts," Jude replied smugly.

"One point!"

"Still above your score."

Connor laughed. "You're a loser," he teased, nudging his shoulder against Jude's.

"You're a loser," Jude argued, nudging Connor more forcefully. "I have the higher score."

Moving quickly, Connor plucked the game from Jude's hands and bounced to his feet, holding the device high above his head.

"Yeah, but I'm taller."

"Someday," Jude informed Connor, "I'll grow."

He stretched onto his tip-toes, using Connor's shoulder for leverage and tried to stretch for the game. Connor leaned back, intentionally keeping it out of Jude's reach.

"Yeah, but today is not that day."

And they laughed.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

Connor was smiling at the memory of his dream, the one he'd had when his father had accidentally knocked him unconscious. He couldn't even be bitter about the fact that his own father had caused him to black out because it had given Connor the little bit of comfort he had needed. That dream had been the highlight of Connor's week, and the fact that it was true made Connor feel utterly depressed.

He was sitting on the floor of the bathroom again, one of his stolen razor blades in his hand. He didn't even care about Adam's potential reaction to the fact that he was continuing to cut. He just knew that he had to do something it, both for himself and for his continuing, and if that something was cutting open his own flesh, he was going to do it. Though his cutting was supposed to be nothing more but a disgraceful combination of penance and punishment, Connor couldn't deny that there was something so invigorating, so freeing, about the fact that he could now control something. He had control over the amount of times he hurt himself; he had control over how deep. He now had control over the pain he felt. Connor knew that, no matter what he did, he was going to feel pain. But now, he could direct it. The pain from the cuts was encompassing, blocking out the pain from Adam and the pain from Jude.

With a razor blade, Connor could ignore everything else that was going on his life, because the pain demanded his full attention.

He drew the blade horizontally across his wrist, running over raw cuts. He breathed a sigh of relief. While he knew that pain shouldn't bring relief, he couldn't deny that it did. He couldn't deny that he felt better when he cut himself.

And so he did it again …

… and again …

… and again …

Until everything in his life had faded into the background where Connor could ignore it.

I'm staring at the mess I made

"Hi."

Jude looked at Connor and then immediately glanced away again. "Connor," he breathed.

"What?" Connor asked, but he knew what Jude was about to say.

"We … we passed in the project. And we agreed … just the project."

"I know," Connor replied, and said no more.

He sat at his desk, trying not to think about the fact that he was sitting so close to Jude but they were so far apart. He could hear Jude breathing; he could practically hear Jude thinking. But as for what Jude was thinking, Connor couldn't guess.

Was he thinking about the same thing Connor was? Was he thinking about the time when they were friends? Was he wishing they were able to be friends again?

Because that's what Connor was thinking about.

Connor was also thinking about his failures. He had failed Jude. He had failed himself. He couldn't do anything without failing. He couldn't even be a decent human being; stick by his friends and his moral principles and his own true self.

And he was miserable. He was oh, so, miserable. He didn't know how Jake had done it, growing up in that house, but Connor couldn't take it anymore. Connor couldn't wait for his mother to come back, because she had said, in her last phone call, that she didn't know if she would make it home for Christmas after all.

He felt trapped. He felt more and more trapped about his life with every day that passed. His life went downhill with every moment that passed, and he felt sickened by it more and more. He was a bird trapped in a cage, unable to free himself.

Connor just wanted to be free. And he knew, suddenly, that he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, low enough that there was only a small chance that Jude would hear him, but the words were for Jude.

"Did you say something?" Jude whispered in return.

Connor shook his head. No, he hadn't.

I 'm staring at the mess I made

Connor trailed behind Jake as they headed home after school. His cousin unlocked the door and let himself in first, the door screen door almost smacking Connor in the face. Connor brushed it off, unconcerned with the door. He was no longer concerned with anything, and apathy felt amazing.

"You seem … happy," Jake observed as they deposited their coats and bags into the front closet.

"No, not really," Connor denied, not wanting to make Jake suspicious.

"Been kissing your boyfriend?" Jake taunted. "Been makin' out in the library?"

"Leave it alone," Connor snapped. He didn't want to be mocked by the could-have-beens and would-have-beens that surrounded Jude. Connor had to let his feelings and his friend go completely now. He had to let everything and everyone go. It was better that way. "Jude and I were never like that. We were always just friends."

"Whatever you say, Gay-rella." Jake snorted and then laughed to himself. "Gay-rella. I'll have to remember that one. Uncle Adam is going to love it."

"Great," Connor deadpanned. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Wait!" Jake requested. "Let me thinking about this one. Sleeping Gay just doesn't have a good ring to it … Oh, I know, Sleeping Homo!"

Connor rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else to his cousin. Instead, he climbed the stairs to their shared bedroom. He dropped onto his bed heavily and stared at the opposite wall. The ceilings on the upper floor all had beams and he eyed them in a new fashion.

Connor was going to kill himself. And he was going to do it tonight.

He just wasn't entirely sure how yet.

His father owned no guns; he took no medication. Connor didn't think that he could make himself cut his arms deep enough to bleed to death. But hanging … Hanging seemed like the only viable option. He felt something settle within him at the morbid thought. In a few moments, it would all be over. There would be no more pain; no more beatings; no more heartache.

He didn't feel the least bit hesitant as he dug around Jake's side of the room. He found the ancient skipping rope that he'd noticed resting in his cousin's half of the closet ages ago. When he first saw it, he hadn't really thought anything of it, only to think it was odd for Jake to keep a skipping rope lying around. Now, Connor was just glad it was in the room. He dragged the skipping rope back to his bed and draped it across his lap, expertly tying knots in it.

It was certainly twisted, Connor reflected, that it had been Adam who had taught him to tie knots.

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Connor had the skipping rope around his neck, the other end around the beam. His feet were planted on the desk chair he and Jake shared, ready to be rolled away at any moment. He took a shaky breath, and closed his eyes to think, one more time, if he should leave a note. But, once again, he decided against it. Once they saw his body, they would know why. Once they saw his bruises and his cuts, they would know why.

"I'm sorry," Connor repeated his words to Jude early in the afternoon. "I'm so sorry."

But he had to free himself.

Connor took a deep breath – his last, real breath – and he kicked the chair away.

And it's you, and it's you

"Hey, love," Stef cooed as Lena picked up the phone.

"Hey," Lena replied, her warm voice full of love. "Are you on your way home? Dinner's almost ready and everyone is here but you."

"Everyone?" Stef repeated. "You mean Jesus took a break from the girlfriend?"

Lena laughed. "That's exactly what I mean. So, are you on your way home?"

"Not quite," Stef revealed.

"Oh no."

"I got a call."

"Of course."

"It'll be quick," Stef assured her.

"What is it?" Lena inquired.

"It's a domestic violence," Stef said in a hushed voice. "There are two minors at the hospital. The paramedics called us. I just need to go, take statements, and wait for the social worker."

"That sounds 'quick'," Lena commented, although her heart went out to the two minors at the hospital. She knew that there were parents out there who raised hands to their children; who turned innocent lives into a living hell. "Promise me that you'll be careful, okay? It's turning into a full-fledged storm out there. I hear there are accidents everywhere."

"Oh, you know me. I'm the very definition of caution and safety."

"Stef," Lena exclaimed in a warning tone.

"I'll drive under the speed limit, just for you," Stef said to placate her wife. "Now, I have to go. The sooner I get there, the sooner I get home."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Stef answered.

Stef hung up her cell phone and then she turned her car on. She drove, just as she had promised, very slowly over to the hospital. She met the paramedics – Ashley and Danny – in front of the hospital room of one of the minors. She was familiar with the pair. A second officer, Nucci, was present as well.

"So, what's the case?" she inquired. "I didn't get many details when I was called in."

"We got a call approximately forty minutes ago. A fifteen year old kid found his younger cousin hanging in their bedroom and called 911. He cut him down before we arrived. The child was not conscious when we arrived, but was breathing normally. On the drive back, we noted several injuries, both self-inflicted and from apparent physical abuse. The child woke up on the drive here. It seems his cousin found him in time and will suffer no last damage, although you'll need a doc to confirm that," Ashley reported.

"Thanks guys," Stef told them. She dismissed them as she noticed a social worker making her way down the hall.

"Call me Teri," the social worker said as she shook hands with both Nucci and Stef.

"All right, Teri," Stef agreed. And then she relayed the information that Ashley and Danny had given her.

"Now, I have their identities," Nucci broke in. "The elder cousin is a boy by the name of Jake Austin."

"We've contacted his father's cousin. She lives in the area," Teri added. "She said that, if we were to drop Jake off to her, she would take him." And then she said, "With the storm right now, the hospital is discharging everyone they can to free up hospital beds."

Stef nodded; it was standard practice in a hospital when there was a storm occurring.

"And what about the other child?" Stef pressed. "The one who tried to hang themselves?"

"Connor Stevens," Nucci said.

Stef froze. Connor? Jude's Connor?

"Where's his doctor?" she demanded, energized and made determined by this fact. She had to protect her youngest son's best friend.

"Right here." An elderly man emerged from the room they were all gathered in front of. "I'm Dr. Saum."

"How's Connor?" Stef begged of him immediately, unable to keep her maternal instinct completely under wraps. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Saum assured her without hesitation. "He must have been taken down extraordinarily quickly. We still have a few tests left to run, but in my opinion, he's going to be absolutely fine."

Stef put a hand over her heart, feeling tears of relief. She loved Connor and she didn't know what she would have done if he had passed away. And then she thought of the circumstances. He had tried to kill himself. Ashley and Danny had spoken of self-inflicted wounds and physical abuse. That poor boy, she thought, and immediately wanted to see him. But there was protocol to follow, and Teri was talking again.

"We couldn't find any relatives in the immediate area. His mother and father are his only living relatives. At the present time, his mother in his England – and, when we spoke to her, she said she wouldn't be able to make it back for at least three days, although she's hoping for sooner. His father is the one who is assumed to have committed the abusive acts toward these two children, as they were both in his care."

"Do we have his father?" Stef asked Nucci.

"Polo and Lambert went to look for him," Nucci explained. "Now, which one do you want to interview?"

"Connor Stevens," she picked.

Nucci passed her the camera that would be used to document Connor's injuries.

"Officer Nucci, another worker – Mrs. Mitchell – will be meeting you at Mr. Austin's room. Officer Adams-Foster, I will be accompanying you as you interview Mr. Stevens."

"And I," Dr. Saum announced, "will be around if needed. The nurses are also at your disposal."

"Actually, Dr. Saum." Stef beckoned to the aged man to her as Nucci left to find Jake. "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Well, I know you're releasing patients due to the storm. Will Mr. Stevens be one of them?"

"If all of his tests come back clear, then yes. We will be discharging him, so long as we are able to set-up several follow-up appointments for both mental and physical health."

"Thank you," Stef said to the doctor, and then she turned to Teri. "You said that there's no one available to take Connor."

"Correct. We're searching for a group home."

"I'll take him," Stef offered. "My wife and I are registered foster parents. We know him. He knows us. He'll be safe and comfortable in my home."

"I'll make a call while you do your thing," Teri agreed, and motioned to Stef's camera.

Stef nodded, knowing that it was time to step into the room. She cracked open the door and the boy in the hospital bed looked toward her, his eyes widening as he realized that it was Stef.

"Hi," she breathed, overwhelmed at just how terrible he looked. She realized, in that moment, how very long it had been since she had seen Connor. "How are you?"

"Okay," Connor croaked, his voice strangely husky.

"I'm here to talk to you about the bruises," Stef told him softly, "and I'm going to need to take pictures."

Connor nodded, not saying much. He sat up and eased his legs over the side of the bed, though he didn't make a move to stand. Stef positioned herself directly in front of him. She noticed the light bruising beginning to emerge on Connor's neck, and she had to force herself to stay composed. With shaking hands, the young teenager inched the zipper of his hoodie down. He was shirtless underneath, likely cut away by the paramedics, and Stef could not control her gasp. He was a plethora of different colours on his torso. His father had been smart, keeping the bruises away from visible places. But as Connor shrugged the hoodie completely off, she saw the angry red cuts that she knew he had caused himself.

"Oh, Connor," she fretted, "Who did this to you?"

"Dad."

That was the moment Stef's heart broke.

And it's you, and it's you

Stef took careful photos of Connor. She wanted to make sure that she documented everything that Adam Stevens had done to his son, leaving no doubt that the man needed to be prosecuted. She took close-up pictures of every dark bruise, every open wound. With every snap of her camera, she felt her heart shatter a little more. Parents weren't supposed to do this to their children; this was the very thing that parents were supposed to protect their children from. Parents also weren't supposed to put their children in a position where they sliced their arms with razors as deeply as Connor had; parents weren't supposed to drive their children to such misery that the only light they could see was suicide.

While Stef took photos, Connor talked away.

He spoke of his mother, having to move so far away for work, while Connor moved in with his father so that he wouldn't have to leave his school or his friends. Besides, his mother had said her job was only supposed to be temporary. Connor talked about the first time his father had hit him. He explained how his father's homophobic attitude had only seemed to grow; planting terrible thoughts in Connor's head that made him feel empty on the inside, because sometimes he thought that he might be gay – the very thing his father hated the most. He even confessed what he had said to Jude, about his best friend, Stef, and Lena. He cried through that admission, sobbing that he hadn't meant it, and that he'd been so scared of his father that he hadn't known what to do.

"Hey," Stef said soothingly, "it's okay, love. No one blames you. We understand. We're not mad."

"Jude blames me," Connor bawled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself anymore. After so long of threat-induced silence, it was equal parts terrifying and therapeutic to tell Stef everything. "I hate that I hurt him. I never wanted to hurt Jude I wanted to …. I was … I just didn't know what else to do."

Agitated, he scratched his nails against his wounded wrist, causing his tender cuts to begin to bleed again. Stef looped her fingers gently around Connor's wrist, careful not to make any movements that would be considered threatening. She guided his hand away from his other arm so that he could no longer hurt himself.

"I miss him and I'm sorry and … I'm just so sorry."

Stef curled Connor into her arms, gently rocking him back and forth. She petted the back of his head, trying to calm him down. She murmured sweet nonsense into his ears, as the boy broke down in her arms, finally able to free himself of the pain that he had been carrying for so long.

And it's falling down, as you walk away

"Stef?" Lena exclaimed into the phone. "I've been waiting for you to call. Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I…" Stef began, feeling emotionally drained. Even though she was standing outside of Connor's hospital room, looking away from the boy, she could still see how destroyed he way in perfect detail. It was the kind of image that would never fully fade. "I'm still at the hospital."

"Because of the case?" Lena clarified, worried about her wife.

"Yeah. Um, it was just … One of the boys, he tried to kill himself."

"Oh no!" Lena gasped. "Is he okay?"

"It was Connor," Stef explained, struggling to keep her voice calm and her composure intact, knowing that she would have to return to the young teenager's side in just a moment. "Lena, it's terrible. He's just covered in bruises, with cuts all over his arms –"

"Jude's Connor?" Lena yipped. "He was the one who …"

"He tried to hang himself," Stef answered Lena's unfinished question.

"No … no. Is he going to be okay?!"

"The doctors are clearing him now. His father's in custody. His mom is out of town for the next few days at least, and the weather is making the hospital kick people out ..." Stef was aware she was uncharacteristically rambling, but she couldn't make herself stop. The last time she remembered being so shaken up was when she had seen Brandon in a hospital bed. "I'm bringing him home with me."

"Absolutely. I'll put Jesus into Brandon's room for the night. Connor can bunk with Jude."

"You'll have to tell Jude," Stef said somberly, "before we get home."

"I will," Lena agreed, equally solemn. "Just, get home, okay?"

"Okay. I love you, Lena."

"I love you too."

And it's on me now, as you go

Lena entered the kitchen, conveniently finding her three sons gathered around the island, carefully slicing up what was left of last night's pie so they'd all have an equal share.

"Guys," she clapped her hands, gathering their attention, although only Jude looked away from the pie.

"Yeah, Mom?" Jesus asked, and then he squinted at the knife his older brother was holding. "Brandon, the knife is too far to the left."

"It is not!" Brandon insisted.

"What's up?" Jude inquired.

"We," Lena said, "are having an unexpected guest for the next few nights. Jesus, you'll be temporarily moving into Brandon's room."

"If you snore," Jesus threatened Brandon, "I'll smother you."

"If you threaten me again, I'm eating your share of the pie," Brandon snapped.

"Wait, so who am I sharing with?" Jude asked, frowning in confusion.

"Come here." Lena beckoned to him, tucking her youngest under her arm when he reached her. "We need to talk."

She brought him upstairs to his and Jesus' room for privacy. She shut the door behind her, and then joined her son on his bed.

"Mom," Jude said honestly, "you're kind of scaring me."

"Honey, we need to talk about Connor."

"What about him?"

"The two of you haven't been spending time together recently."

"I … We …" Jude blustered. He hadn't told anyone what had really gone on between he and Connor. It hurt too much to even think about in his own head. He didn't want to talk about it. Whenever his moms had asked where his best friend had gone, he had just mumbled something about them both being busy.

"Jude," Lena said, knowing that if she didn't say it now, she wouldn't end up saying it all. "Connor tried to kill himself this afternoon."

Jude felt everything inside of him stop, his thoughts coming in confusing bursts. Why … Connor … NO! … Safe? He turned his pleading eyes to his mother, needing to hear the whole story.

"He's okay," Lena assured him, taking Jude's hand in her own. He gripped onto her tightly. "His home life hasn't been ideal lately. His father didn't treat Connor and his cousin very well and was physically and verbally abusive toward them. Connor resorted to hurting himself before he attempted to take his life. I'm telling you this because Mom is bringing Connor home with her and they'll be here in a few minutes. And, I know that something must have happened between the two of you, but he needs you right now."

Jude nodded. Of course everything was forgiven; of course he was putting it in the past. He had been right when he thought that it wasn't really Connor who was saying those horrible things and acting in such a terrible way. It had been his father, being evil behind the scenes. Hearing Connor say what he had and having Connor act the way he had still stung, but Jude knew that he couldn't fixate on it. He needed to be there for Connor; to be the best friend that Connor had ever had.

"How do you feel?" Lena asked, watching a whirlwind of emotions dart across Jude's face in quick succession.

"Really sorry," Jude revealed. "Really, really sorry … How could I just abandon him like that? He needed me."

Jude should have pushed him. He should have demanded the truth. If he hadn't given up on Connor so easily, then he could have saved Connor from all of this.

"Oh, baby." Lena pulled Jude into her arms. "Just be there with him now. He's probably just as sorry for things too."

Jude nodded against Lena's shoulder, knowing that he and Connor both had a lot to make up for, but that it was all in the past now. Right now, they just needed to be together, and they would be, soon.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

Connor crept in the front door of the Adams-Foster home, right behind Stef. He moved, as he always seemed to these days, slowly, like he was an aged man. He followed Stef into the kitchen, wondering where all of the children seemed to be. There wasn't a whisper or a peep. Not from Brandon, Callie, Jesus, or Mariana (and he couldn't imagine not hearing something from the always-vibrant Mariana if she was in the house); and there was absolutely no trace of the person Connor was looking for the most.

He couldn't find Jude.

Lena was in the kitchen waiting for them. Without a word, she handed Connor a warm mug of hot chocolate, and he felt shaky all over at the simple act of kindness.

"Lena, I'm sorry," he blurted, feeling tears come to his eyes. He didn't deserve for anyone to be this nice to him, especially not the Adams-Fosters.

"It's okay, Connor," Lena said.

"You don't know what I'm sorry for," he protested. If she knew, she surely wouldn't offer forgiveness so quickly. Connor knew that he would never forgive himself.

"Stef told me. And it's okay. I understand why," Lena consoled him. "You know that it's wrong to say it. Under normal circumstances, I know that you would never say anything like that."

"Thank you," he croaked. "For everything."

"Anything for you." Stef kissed him on the forehead, just as a mother would. "You let us know if you need us for anything. We didn't tell anyone, though. Except for Jude."

Jude knew.

Connor felt heavy at the thought. He wondered if Lena had told Jude everything or if there were still things that were a mystery to his friend. He wondered how Jude was feeling now; if knowing the truth would be enough to make Jude forgive him for all the wrong that he had done.

"Where is he?" Connor asked.

"In his room," Lena told him. "Take him some cocoa, please."

Connor picked up the second cup and traced the familiar path upstairs to Jude's room. He knocked on the door with his foot, unable to get the doorknob himself. The door creaked open – it wasn't latched as he'd originally thought. He stepped inside the room, his heart beginning to pound unnaturally fast as he located Jude standing on the opposite side of the room from the door. Connor put down the mugs of hot chocolate and waited for Jude to make the first move. He watched Jude's face, trying to figure out what his best friend was thinking or feeling, but Jude was completely expressionless as he stared back at Connor. Did Jude still hate him? Or, impossibly, could Jude understand that Connor never wanted to hurt him; that he never thought that life would bring them here?

Jude shifted, and Connor waited.

I'm staring at the mess I made

Before Connor could process anything, Jude had crossed the room and had wrapped his arms around Connor's middle. Connor hugged him back, realizing just how afraid he was that Jude was still going to be angry, after everything. He didn't know how much Jude knew, but he'd been worried that it wouldn't be enough to keep Jude from hating him. He knew he would have more to explain, but right now, he just hugged his best friend, secure in the knowledge that he had a best friend again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Jude blurted, never loosening his grip. He needed to reassure himself that Connor was still alive and he could only do that through feeling his best friend's breaths.

"And I'm sorry I cut you out. I should have just be honest with you from the start, about everything."

Jude stepped away from Connor, looking up at his face, beyond the red, raw marks on Connor's neck to his emotional eyes.

"Be honest with me now," Jude pleaded, asking the same question he had months ago, as their friendship was ending. "Why?"

I'm staring at the mess I made

Connor sat down on the edge of Jude's bed and Jude dropped down next to him, bringing his legs up underneath of him. Connor turned so that he was facing Jude. To distract himself from what he was going to say, he reached over and picked up his mug of hot chocolate. Whispering, he admitted, "I was scared of my dad and Jake and of what would happen to me if I said that he was hitting me. I didn't want to say that it was because he thought that you were gay, so I was gay, and he said such awful things that I can't repeat. I also didn't want to disrupt anyone's life. I thought that I was a burden and that no one deserved to be around me because I was so terrible."

"You're not terrible," Jude assured him and he watched Connor blink tears away.

How can he say that? Connor thought. He had always known that Jude was one of the best people in the world and that he had an amazing capacity to see good in people, but he hadn't expected Jude to still see good in him. Connor didn't think that he had any left for Jude to see.

"I should have said something when it first started before it got this far." It was the largest of Connor's regrets because, if he'd been smart enough in the very beginning, he could have avoided all of the pain he caused in the subsequent weeks.

"Connor?"

"Yeah?"

"Mom … Mom said you hurt yourself." Connor hadn't said anything about that yet.

"I … I thought I should be punishing myself. I thought that I deserved it. I wanted to feel something beyond the pain that Dad caused and I felt like I needed to have control of something in my life. It made me feel better to do it because I felt like I needed too." Connor's train of thought began to break down as the tears began flowing from his eyes and his breaths turned to aching sobs. "It was all messed up and I'm sorry."

Jude didn't know if Connor was talking to him anymore. Carefully, he inched closer to Connor and picked the hot chocolate mug out of his friend's shaking hands. He sat it down and then he rested his arm across Connor's back. "It's okay," Jude assured him. "It's really okay."

"I was such a jerk to you," Connor continued, as if he hadn't heard what Jude said, "I'm so sorry."

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

"I'm sorry too," Jude revealed, and he saw surprise on Connor's face. "I should have been there. I'm your best friend. I should have realized that something was wrong and that you never would have said that on your own."

Connor shook his head. While he had wanted Jude back in his life, he had also realized it was better if Jude wasn't around, either. He admitted that, saying, "I thought it was better if you believed me. Not just because I thought it might make Dad leave me alone, even though it didn't because he still thought the worst of me, but because I knew that I'd only hurt you too."

"It's my fault you got hurt!" Jude realized. "Because your dad thought I was –"

"No!" Connor interrupted. "It wasn't you, Jude. Even if I had never met you, he would have found other things. He did find other things. It was all my fault. It was all because of me and who I am."

"That's not true either," Jude argued. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Connor felt Jude's gaze fall onto his neck and he felt self-conscious. He wasn't supposed to have lived to see Jude finding out about this and now he didn't know what to do. He kept waiting for the moment Jude would reject him.

"I'm here now," Jude said firmly, as if he knew what Connor were thinking. "Always, okay?"

Connor just nodded, the day overwhelming him. Had it really only been that afternoon that he had sat next to Jude in science class and whispered his goodbye? Now, he was sitting next to Jude again, but there was none of the indifferent hatred that he had sensed earlier. Connor leant further into Jude's arm and said, "I'm really glad we're friends."

"Me too," Jude replied, and he managed a smile.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Connor was able to smile too.

And it's falling down, as you walk away

It was late that night when Jude and Connor finally got ready for bed. Connor wasn't going to collect things from his father's house until the next day so he was borrowing an old pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt from Jesus for the night. He had just pulled on the pants when he felt Jude's eyes on his back.

"Does the front look as bad as the back?" Jude asked, half-scared to know the answer. He had known bruises in his lifetime and knew the damage that flying fists and well-directed kicks could do, but seeing his best friend as a black-and-blue punching bag was something that Jude had not been prepared for.

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Connor slowly turned around to face Jude. He watched as Jude took in his broken skin and he shivered at the gaze. After so long of keeping the violence a secret and hiding away his flesh for the fear that someone would see the injuries, he felt so exposed. First, Stef had taken pictures of him and now, he was vulnerable in front of Jude. But where Stef's pictures felt like an intrusion, Jude's eyes, strangely enough, did not.

Jude took a step forward. Before Connor could question what he was doing, he felt Jude's fingers gently touch the top of his left arm. Connor knew what Jude was looking for and, for a moment, he remembered the night that he had first cut himself and Adam had seen the wounds. He forced the image of his father away. Jude would never be anything like Adam and Connor had to stop being afraid. He would likely never see his father again. Certainly, he would never have to be scared of his father again. Connor took a deep breath and then he flipped his arm over to reveal the cuts that Jude had been searching for. Jude's blissfully warm hand stayed in contact with Connor's skin, his thumb coming close to touching the edge of the scars. They stayed like that, motionless, until Jude looked up at Connor. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

He kept his hand on Connor's arm, pulling Connor toward his own bed. Although Jesus' bed was free, it had been clear to the both of them that it wasn't where Connor would be sleeping that night. Still, as Jude crawled over to the wall, Connor could hear Adam's accusing voice once more, chanting "You're nothing but a pussy, Connor. A fag. What did I ever do to deserve a son like you? The worst of the worst." Connor looked at the space next to Jude and then he promptly laid down next to his best friend. So what if he was everything his father accused him of being? Just because Adam thought that it was bad didn't mean that it was. Connor ran his thumb over his scars and then clamped his hand heavily over his wrist. His father wasn't right about everything.

In the darkness, Connor saw Jude reach toward him and he felt his heart stop in his chest. He felt Jude's fingers around his own hands and then Jude pulled Connor's left wrist free. Connor felt his head spin dizzily as Jude laced their fingers together.

"Goodnight, Connor," Jude said.

Connor squeezed Jude's hand. "Goodnight, Jude."

And it's on me now, as you go

Jude kept his hold on Connor's hand, even when Connor fell asleep; his breathing becoming even and his face becoming peaceful. Jude turned half onto his side to look at his friend, thinking. Even though he and Connor had spent most of the evening talking about everything, Jude hadn't even begun to process it. He wasn't sure he knew how to be there for Connor the way that he should be. At this point, the only thing Jude was sure of was that he was never stepping away from his friend again; not for anything. Connor was the best friend that Jude ever had, and he was ashamed that he had abandoned Connor the way the he had. Jude shifted his grip on Connor's hand, feeling guilty as he did so, and let his thumb graze over Connor's bumpy, half-healed cuts. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was the cause of at least some of Connor's pain. If he and Connor had never been friends, Adam Stevens never would have thought Connor was gay. If Jude had never painted his nails, had never come off as flamboyant or feminine, had never been everything that Adam hated about Jude, Connor might have been spared.

Connor shifted in his sleep, turning more onto his side. His face was impossibly close to Jude's, and before Jude could overthink it, he pressed a kiss to Connor's forehead. "I'm sorry," he said aloud, meaning it with every fibre of his being.

He had everything to be sorry for.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

"Jude," Connor mumbled, and the other boy jumped.

Jude had been drifting off to sleep, finally ready to rest. He hadn't thought Connor was awake and he wondered if Connor had heard the last of his many apologies that night.

"Yeah? Did you need something?" Whatever it was Connor needed, Jude would get it.

Connor didn't answer and Jude settled into his pillow.

"Sorry," Connor breathed.

Jude twisted from his back onto his side so that he could see Connor's face. His friend's eyes were closed and he was still wheezing in a sleepy way. Then it clicked for Jude. Connor was sleep talking. Jude knew that Connor talked in his sleep, although he'd never heard it before. Jude was a heavy sleeper and if Connor had ever had a conversation while asleep next to him, Jude hadn't woken up for it. Connor's lips opened slightly, but he didn't say anything.

"Connor," Jude prompted softly. He didn't want to wake Connor but he wondered if Connor would answer him.

Connor didn't move. Jude whispered his name one last time but there was no response. Jude turned onto his back again and he used his free hand to adjust the blankets over his and Connor's shoulders before closing his eyes for sleep. Next to him, Connor shifted around again and Jude felt the outline of Connor's arm pressing against his side.

"Love," Connor muttered. "Friend. Jude."

At the words, Jude felt a smile steal over his face. Feeling happy and content that his best friend was not only back in his life, but was sleeping safely next to him, Jude fell asleep.

I'm staring at the mess I made

Morning came late for Jude and Connor, who both had permission to stay home from school that day. They had slept through the rest of the Adams-Foster household rising and getting ready for school and work. When Jude and Connor finally did wake, it was because of their grumbling stomachs.

As they padded down the stairs to the kitchen, Jude informed Connor, "Lena bought cinnamon bagels."

"Yum," Connor said, and then he winced. His voice sounded even more guttural and raspy than it had before. He reached up to touch his throat and felt the raw marks that the skipping rope had left. He dropped his hand.

In companionable silence, the boys prepared their bagels – Jude with cream cheese and Connor with peanut butter. They took their food and went to eat breakfast in front of the TV. They sat side by side on the couch, so close that their hipbones touched and once or twice they accidentally elbowed one another. It was an easy quiet that they ate in, watching cartoons and snacking on their bagels. Even through all that had happened and all that had tried to separate them, they had not forgotten how to be best friends. After last night, they both felt absolved of the sins that they had committed against one another. They had not cleaned the slate, both determined to remember their mistakes so that they would never happen again.

I'm staring at the mess I made

It was an hour late when Connor hit the mute button on the TV remote and turned on the couch so that he was facing Jude. Jude immediately mimicked Connor's position, waiting for Connor to talk.

"There's one more thing that I really need to tell you. I didn't know how to say it last night, but you have to know."

"You can tell me anything," Jude promised him. He was going to be there for Connor, no matter what. There was nothing that could make him walk away from Connor now.

"Dad always accused me of dating you and wanting to be your boyfriend. Sometimes Jake lied to him and said that he would see us at school together, doing things that we really weren't."

Jude nodded. This he had heard last night.

"I always told Dad that I wasn't gay and that you were just my best friend and that I never thought of you in any other way."

Jude nodded again.

"That's not the truth." Connor's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Then what's the truth?" Jude asked, voice equally quiet.

"I think …" Connor wanted to close his eyes but he made himself look at Jude instead. The caring look of acceptance on Jude's face was enough to block out the demons Adam had left living in Connor's head. "I think I am gay. I know that I do have a crush on you. Even before I moved in with Dad, I was always thinking about what it might be like to kiss you."

Jude's eyes didn't leave Connor's as he tilted forward. Connor met him halfway and the moment their lips touched, their eyes both closed, breath stolen by the magic of their first kiss. Jude's hand found Connor's and Connor held tightly onto him, even as he deepened their kiss. Connor couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, and he felt a tear escape from under his lashes. After so long of feeling hurt and alone he finally had a safe place; a place to be loved.

And, like he had always suspected, Jude was his safe place.

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Wrote this in a day. Unedited. Any feedback is appreciated!

(Also, I know nothing about police procedures/medical things and I made it up as I went along, so don't take my word for anything)

~TLL~

*Edited on June 4th 2015