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For the rest of the week, I found myself uncharacteristically distracted. My thoughts kept returning to the conversation with Conner and the realization that there was more depth to him than I had initially thought. His cheerful exterior was just a facade to hide the hurt and vulnerability beneath.

I tried to convince myself that it was just curiosity, but deep down, I knew it was something more. The image of his sad expression haunted me, refusing to leave my mind.

I tried to focus on my routine, going through the motions of school and avoiding conversations with Isaiah whenever he tried to bring up the topic of Conner. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the weird fluttering feeling in my chest whenever I caught a glimpse of that damn cheerful smile in the hallways.

I was walking through the mostly quiet streets of the town, lost in my own thoughts, when I noticed a figure sitting alone on a park bench. As I drew closer, I realized it was Conner.

He was sitting slumped over, his head in his hands and his usual cheerful demeanor nowhere to be seen. Seeing him like this, so different from his usual animated self, made my heart unexpectedly pang with concern.

I hesitated for a moment, torn between my usual inclination to avoid social interaction and the odd urge to approach him. Before I could decide, Conner looked up and noticed me standing there.

He visibly tensed for a moment before offering a halfhearted smile. "Hey, Hunter."

His voice was lacking its usual enthusiasm, his eyes not quite meeting mine. I awkwardly shifted my weight, feeling oddly compelled to comfort him.

"Hey," I replied gruffly. "You alright?" Conner let out a hollow laugh, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed some fresh air."

I could tell he was lying. It was obvious something was bothering him, but I wasn't exactly known for being a masterful conversationalist. Nevertheless, I found myself unable to walk away.

I glanced around, searching for some excuse to stay and prolong the conversation. Finally, I settled on the most obvious question. "What are you doing here all alone?"

Conner shrugged, his gaze returning to the ground. "Just thinking, I guess. It's quiet here."

There was a long pause as I struggled with what to say next. I wasn't used to dealing with emotions, especially not ones I couldn't quite understand.

Eventually, I settled on the safest question I could think of. "Is this about the guys in your class? The ones giving you a hard time?"

Conner's shoulders sagged even more at the mention of the bullies. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could handle it, but it's just... it's getting to me, you know?"

I nodded, feeling a strange urge to console him. "You shouldn't let them get to you. They're just a bunch of idiots who are trying to make themselves feel better by putting you down."

As I spoke, I noticed a change in Conor’s demeanor. His shoulders hunched even further, and he suddenly looked extremely embarrassed and shy. It was a stark contrast to his usual bright and confident self.

"Yeah, you’re right," he murmured, his voice soft and almost shy. "I know I shouldn’t let them bother me, but... it’s hard, you know? I don’t want to let them see how much it affects me."

I found myself feeling strangely protective of him in this vulnerable state. He looked so unlike his usual cheerful self, and I felt a pang of sympathy, something I wasn't accustomed to.

"You don’t have to show them anything," I said gruffly. "Just ignore them and focus on yourself. They’re not worth your time or your energy."

Conner looked up, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before darting away again. He seemed unusually shy and timid, so different from the cheerful extrovert I had come to know.

"Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. "I’ll try. It’s just hard, you know? Pretending like it doesn’t bother me."

Seeing him like this, all shy and vulnerable, was messing with my head. I had to admit, there was something strangely endearing about his bashful demeanor. But I tried to push that thought aside and focus on being supportive.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," I found myself saying, somewhat surprised by the words leaving my mouth. "You can be... you know, real with me."

Conner glanced up at me again, a look of surprise mixed with something I couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. He seemed taken aback by my unexpected offer of support.

"I… thanks, Hunter," he stammered, his voice slightly shaky. "I appreciate that. It’s just... it’s hard to let go of the act sometimes, you know?"

There was a long pause as I tried to find the right words to respond. But before I could say anything, Conner spoke up again, his voice quiet and strained.

"It's not just the guys at school," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the ground. "There's... there's something else that's been bothering me, something I've never told anyone before."

My curiosity was piqued, and I found myself leaning in slightly, silently encouraging him to continue. I could sense that this was something different, something important.

Conner took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "It's about my mom," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She died a few years ago, and ever since then, I've been putting on this happy face, trying to hide how much it hurt. But... it's getting harder to keep up the act."

My heart ached for him, hearing the pain and vulnerability in his voice. It had never occurred to me that the cheerful and upbeat exterior he presented was a protective shield, hiding the deep pain of losing his mother.

"I just don’t know how to let myself grieve properly," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I feel like I’m stuck in this endless cycle of pretending everything is fine. It’s exhausting, you know? Putting on that fake smile every day."

I could see the struggle etched on his face, the internal battle between the outward portrayal of happiness and the inner turmoil. It was a side of him I had never seen before, and it made me realize there was so much more to him than his cheerful facade.

"I don’t want people to feel sorry for me," he mumbled, his gaze dropping back to his lap. "I don’t want to be the sad kid with the dead mom. So I just keep pretending like I’m okay, like it doesn’t bother me. But it does."

My heart clenched painfully at his words, feeling the raw emotion behind them. I found myself at a loss for words, unsure of how to comfort him. I had no experience dealing with grief, let alone someone else's grief.

"I’m sorry," I muttered lamely, feeling utterly useless. "I don’t know what to say."

Conner let out a bitter laugh, his eyes still fixed on the ground. "Don’t worry about it. No one knows what to say anyway."

I felt a pang of sadness at his resigned tone. It was clear that he had been dealing with this burden alone for far too long, bottling up his pain and pretending like everything was okay.

"You don’t have to deal with it alone, you know," I heard myself saying, the words spilling out before I even thought about them. "You can... you can talk to me."

Conner looked up at me, surprise etched on his face. He seemed taken aback by my offer, as if the idea of having someone to confide in was foreign to him.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just staring at me as if he couldn’t believe my words. Then, a hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You... you really mean it? You wouldn’t mind me dumping my problems on you?"

I could see the vulnerability in his expression, the hope and uncertainty in his eyes. "Yeah, I mean it," I said gruffly, feeling an odd sense of protectiveness towards him. "You don’t have to put on that fake smile for me. You can be... real."

Conner looked up at me, a mixture of surprise and relief on his face, before he suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

I froze, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture, but then I hesitantly returned the hug, my arms encircling him in a cautious embrace.

Connor clung to me, his body shuddering slightly as he buried his face against my chest. I could feel the years of pent-up grief and loneliness pouring out of him in waves, and I held him tighter, trying to offer what comfort I could.

We remained like that for a few moments, neither of us speaking. I could feel his heart beating against my chest, his breathing gradually slowing as he found some measure of solace in the unexpected embrace.

As I held him, I couldn’t help but wonder how many times he had tried to keep his emotions bottled up, how many times he had forced a smile and pretended everything was fine. And in that moment, I realized that beneath the cheerful exterior, he wasn’t so different from me.

After what felt like an eternity, Conner finally pulled away, his eyes red-rimmed but a hint of a smile on his perfect pink lips. "Thanks, Hunter," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t realize how much I needed that."

I gave a shrug, feeling a bit awkward. "It’s... it’s fine," I muttered, not quite knowing what to say. "Just don’t go getting too clingy, alright? I’m not the hugging type."

Conner chuckled softly, a hint of his usual spark returning to his eyes. "I won’t," he promised, his smile turning a tad mischievous. "But don’t be surprised if you catch me sneaking up on you for a random hug every now and then."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my reluctant amusement. "Yeah, I’ll have to watch my back around you now, won’t I?"

With a final smile, Conner gave me a light punch on the shoulder before standing up. "I should probably head home, though. But... thanks again, Hunter. For listening and everything."

I grunted in response, feeling weirdly unsettled by his vulnerability and the unexpected comfort I had offered. "Yeah, whatever. Just... take care of yourself, alright?"

Conner nodded, a serious expression returning to his face. "I will. And... you know where to find me if you ever feel like listening to my sob story again."

I nodded gruffly, watching as he turned and started walking away. As his figure disappeared down the street, I couldn’t help feeling perplexed by the strange turn of events.

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