Connor slammed the car door, noticing the way Zoe flinched. A pang of guilt hit him, knowing he caused that flinch. Not just because the noise was loud, but he was the reason she flinched at noise in the first place.

Connor took large steps up the porch stairs and opened the door. He let the door slowly close before Zoe could get inside. He could sense her annoyance but shrugged it off. Throwing his shoes into the closet, he made a beeline for the stairs before Cynthia walked out from the kitchen and asked about his day.

He wouldn't say he hated Cynthia, in fact she was family member he hated the least. But her way of showing affection and trying to relate to Connor wasn't working. He appreciates the thought though.

He slammed the door behind him and threw his bag on his bed. He lay on his bed, face on his cold pillow. He nearly fell asleep when someone tapped his shoulder. He immediately thought it was Evan because that was their signal, but he wasn't at school.

He lifted his head and turned to glare at whoever disturbed him. Cynthia stood above him, holding a plate of carrots and celery with some kind of dressing on the side. An unsure smile was plastered on her face.

She set the plate down on the bedside table next to her. 'Hi honey,' she signed. 'How was school? Are you hungry?'

He shook his head. Cynthia's smile faulted a bit, making guilt grow in Connor's stomach. He sighed and grabbed a single carrot, not bothering with the dressing, just to please Cynthia. Her smile grew a bit and she left. The plate remained on the table.

Connor bit into the carrot, grimacing at the taste. He forced himself to swallow. He didn't have the best eating habits and he knew it. Sometimes he'd go without food for days. He didn't do it on purpose, he just never had the energy to roll out of bed and down to the kitchen.

Cynthia stayed at home most of the time, unless she had to go shopping or some friends invited her somewhere, so she would often bring up food for Connor once she realized he never left his room. Might as well make her happy and not worry. She'd definitely tell Larry and that's the last thing he wants. He could picture the fight now. Larry screaming at Connor about how hard his mother works to make food and he's just letting it rot. Then he'd get mad because he can't understand what Connor is saying. Connor would tell Larry to fuck off and storm out of the house and driving to that abandoned orchard nearby while smoking.

Finishing off the carrot, he rolled over onto his side. He briefly considered Hansen's offer on working on the project, but there was one problem. He had no idea where he lived and it was Friday, so he'd have to wait until Monday.

There's also the high possibility of Evan not wanting to see him on the weekend at all because he's already forced to be around him all day at school. But he did offer. Although if he really meant it, he would've given him his address or his phone number at least. He has a phone, right?

You idiot! You just dropped him off, you know where he lives.

He sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He took two more carrots so Cynthia wouldn't have a fit and left his room. He walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Cynthia was filling a cup of water. As stealthily as he could, he swept his car keys off of the counter and made his way to the entryway.

He nearly forgot to put his boots on. He decided to lace them in the car. He didn't want Cynthia catching him because she'd ask where he's going and if he ended up saying he was going to a friends house, she would cry and say, "Oh I'm so proud of you! Why don't you invite them over?". He might also tell her to fuck off or that he's going to suck dick for meth and she would cry and say, "Connor watch that language and stop doing bad habits." The worst part is she might tell Larry and he wouldn't believe he had a friend or he'd yell at Connor for using such language around his mother. Either way, he didn't want her to be around before he left.

He stepped out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He didn't care if Cynthia heard him. By the time she actually checked to see if he left, he would be long gone.

He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and turned off the car. Hopefully his presence won't be unwanted. Although knowing his nature, it might be.

He stepped out of the car and immediately realized he had know idea which apartment room he lived in. He sighed and got back into the car. He put his forehead on the steering wheel. He really didn't want to go home, but if he didn't know which apartment was Evan's, he had no choice.

Wait. He had passed a Caribou Coffee a block away from the apartments. He turned the car on and pulled out of the parking lot. He made sure he was going slow to prolong his time of arrival, mostly so that he didn't have to go home soon but also because he didn't really like human interaction.

Once parked and the car was turned off, he exited the vehicle. He made his way into the building. He was instantly consumed by the strong smell of coffee and freshly baked muffins. His stomach rumbled. He stepped into the long line and while waiting, typed his order on his phone.

He's had enough experience in restaurants and cafes that he should type his order ahead of time so he didn't have to sign and leave the barista confused while they fished for paper and a pen.

When it was his turn, he showed the barista—a young man who looked about Connor's age with a red stripe in his hair. Connor noticed the burn marks on his arms as he made his order but didn't comment. The barista wouldn't understand him anyways.

The barista said something and handed him his order of two chocolate chip banana bread muffins and a hot chocolate with whipped cream. He set them on the counter and fished around in his pocket for ten dollars. He handed the money to the man and signed "thank you". He balanced the muffins and cup in his hands.

Connor planned on just eating the muffins in his car until he spotted a familiar pair khakis and a blue shirt. Evan was sitting on a couch by the fire that was lit. A dog was laying next to him by his feet. Apparently his journey wasn't completely hopeless.

Connor decided to join Hansen on the couch. He tapped his shoulder twice so he wouldn't be startled. He jumped anyways. Connor sat down. He put his muffins on his leg and drink between his legs.

Evan turned to face him as Connor grabbed his hand. 'Hey Hansen,' he signed.

Evan visibly relaxed. 'What are you doing here?' He signed back.

'I was in the neighborhood and wanted something to drink.'

'I didn't think you lived in the neighborhood.'

'Alright, I don't. But I wanted to take you up on that offer of working on the project, but I realized I had no idea what apartment you lived in and came here. Does that offer still stand?'

'Yes, of course! Why wouldn't it?'

'It was a joke, Hansen.'

'Oh. Well, we can work on it at my place.' Evan let go to sip his drink with both hands. He set the cup down and resumed talking. 'My mom probably won't be home so we don't have to worry about her. I have a copy of the poem but it's only in Braille so you'll have to look up a copy online. Sorry.'

'It's fine. I have the poem memorized anyways. A teacher made me because I kept skipping school during sophomore year. We can leave after you finish your drink if you want.'

'No that's fine,' Hansen replied quickly. 'I like my drinks to last and I don't want you to be there when my mom gets home. Not that there's anything wrong with you, it's just my mom can get excited when I even mention someone besides Jared so I can't imagine what she would do if she saw you.'

Hansen stood up. The German Shepherd at his feet stood up too. Connor had begun munching on a muffin as they walked out of the building. Connor lead the blond to his car. Hansen had let his dog jump into the backseats while he took the passenger seat. Connor climbed into the driver's side and started the car, rolling out of the parking lot and driving the short distance to the apartment.

Evan was nervous to say the least. He's never had anyone in his home besides his Mom and Jared and occasionally Alana Beck when he needed help with math. What if Connor thought his house was small? Apartments are small in general, but what if his was smaller than others? Evan wouldn't know that, he's never actually seen his home. What if Connor was used to large spaces? Did Evan remember to take out the trash? It was probably piled up by the door, which would stink when they got there. What if there was a pile of dishes in the sink?

His breathing had gotten faster and he was messing with a small hole in the them of the shirt when Charles whimpered and placed a paw on his shoulder. Evan looked over in the dog's direction. He stopped ruining his shirt and pet the dog's head. He hadn't realized how much he was making himself worry. He let his fingers run through Charles' fur, letting himself calm down. He tried the breathing exercises Dr. Sherman told him about. Even if they rarely worked, it never hurt to try.

He didn't realize they stopped until he felt Connor's eyes on him. Evan opened the door and stepped out, Connor following. Charles leapt into the front seat and out of the car. Evan grabbed his leash.

Connor grabbed his hand suddenly, making Evan tense up. 'If you don't mind me asking, but where's your cane?'

'It's in the apartment,' Evan replied. 'When I'm not at home or school, I like to use Charles to help me around. That way he gets exercise too.'

Connor let go. Charles stopped and sat when they reached the door. He put Charles' leash in his mouth and his cup in his other hand while he dug around in his pocket for his keys. He felt around for the right one and unlocked the door. He felt a little silly because he had to put the keys in his mouth so he could hold his cup and the leash.

They got to the room and Evan unlocked it. He pushed the door but it wouldn't budge. He furrowed his eyebrows. Did he forget to lock it when he left? He unlocked it again and when he stepped into the apartment, he smelled freshly baked cookies.

Heidi was home.