“This shit blows.”

Grunting out between pressed teeth, Connor leaned against the dark wooden banister of a home he did not belong in. For a moment he forgets why he hates parties, swirling the dark syrup fruit punch in the styrofoam cup in his palm.

He scowls at it, knowing he shouldn’t be here but being dragged toe to heel by his sister made him stay. Remembering that at least he was alive and trying to reach out to people this time, but fuck was it hard.