Connor was, in short, a fucking mess.

His older brother was six days missing, everyone in his life was freaking the fuck out, his best friend was no help, and those stupid comments on all of Pip’s posts about Jamie’s case were getting to his head.

Jamie Reynolds couldn’t be dead, right?

It also wasn’t helping that Pippa would stubbornly not tell him about certain aspects of the case. He wanted to help her. He needed to help her.

Connor could see that she was stressed too, though. So he didn’t push it.

He spent most of his time, when he wasn’t at school, in his room, crying and then being embarrassed about it later. And when he wasn’t doing that, he’d badger Pip or hang out with his girlfriend.

Connor didn’t take you on dates anymore, but that was fine. He didn’t really talk to you much either, but that was also fine. You knew he just needed to know you were there, on his side. Someone to be with, out of the house that was now constantly filled with the sound of his mum’s badly hidden tears. He was much better at hiding them.

Right now, though, Connor was doing a combination of the two — crying and hanging out with his girlfriend. You were both sort of ruffled already, because people on the internet were now accusing Pippa of being a liar and setting up the whole Jamie thing to get more hits on her podcast. Which was bullshit. Then, about twenty minutes prior, news had gotten out that Max Hastings had been found not guilty, which was even bigger bullshit. Then Connor had broken down, finally, in the safety of your arms and your bedroom.

Now he was on the embarrassed part. What sort of fuckass cries in front of their girlfriend? Probably one whose brother was literally so gone, Pippa Fitz-Amobi was having trouble finding.

“Sorry about that.” he mumbles, sitting upright and trying to nonchalantly wipe away his tears with his jumper sleeve while trying not to let the next wave of them come.