Chapter Text
At first, he didn't understand what he was looking at.
Then he saw them.
Fraser and Hazel.
Kissing.
Well, not just kissing. They were making out.
Connor stared at the picture.
He zoomed in, as if that would somehow change what he was seeing.
It didn't. His stomach twisted, and suddenly the noise from the party seemed much louder than it had a minute ago.
Fraser had been ruffling his hair. Fraser had been holding him. Fraser had been standing so close to him that Connor could feel the warmth of his body.
And all that time, Fraser had apparently been interested in Hazel.
Connor handed the phone back to Frank, his jaw tightening.
“Oh.”
Frank looked at him.
“Con?” Frank shoved his own phone into his pocket and looked around the yard, searching through the people.
“I'm going to get that bitch.”
Frank immediately grabbed his arm.
“Whoa. What are you going to do?”
“Fuck up her pretty little face,” Connor muttered, trying to pull away.
“Connor, no.”
“Let go.”
“First, calm the fuck down. Secondly, why do you care this much?”
Connor turned to him, his eyes suddenly bright with anger.
“Because he's drunk and she isn't!” Frank stared at him.
“What?”
Connor shook his head, trying to find the words, but they kept getting tangled up.
“Because—because he—he knows. He knows I'm—”
He stopped. He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell Frank how much he liked Fraser, how long he'd been thinking about him, or how badly that picture had hurt.
So he just looked away. Then he spotted them.
Fraser was standing near the house with Hazel, talking to her. Connor's expression changed immediately.
“There.” Frank followed his gaze.
“Connor, don't.”
But Connor was already walking away.
Or, at least, trying to.
He stumbled slightly, catching himself before continuing toward them.
“Connor, STOP!” Frank yelled, hurrying after him.
Connor barely seemed to hear him. All he could see was Fraser.
And Hazel.
And that stupid fucking picture. He was going to make sure she knew exactly how he felt.
“Hazel!” Connor yelled, stumbling a little as he made his way toward them.
Hazel turned around, looking confused.
“What?” Connor stared at her.
For a second, he forgot what he was going to say. He knew he was angry. He knew he wanted to say something, something really mean, but his thoughts were all mixed up, and he couldn't seem to get them out in the right order.
Then he remembered the photo. Fraser. Hazel. Kissing. His stomach twisted, and before he could think about what he was doing, he punched her in the face.
“Owww!” Hazel cried, stumbling backward and grabbing her face.
Connor stood there for a second, staring at her.
What the fuck did you just do?
The thought barely had time to form before Hazel swung at him.
Connor moved out of the way, his hockey instincts kicking in before he could even think about it. He knew how to throw a punch. He knew how to avoid getting hit.
But this wasn't hockey. He wasn't on the ice. It wasn’t legal. You would got put in the box for 5 minutes.
And Hazel wasn't someone he was supposed to be fighting.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”Hazel screamed, trying to hit him again.
“YOU—” Connor started, pointing at her, but he couldn't even get the rest of the sentence out.
What was he going to say? You kissed Fraser? He wasn't even dating Fraser. He didn't have a right to be this angry. He knew that.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that. But he couldn't seem to make himself stop.
“Connor, stop!” someone shouted. He barely heard them.
Hazel came toward him again, and Connor grabbed her arm, pushing her backward. She lost her balance and fell to the ground.
For a second, everything seemed to go quiet in Connor's head.
He looked down at her.
Get up. Help her up.
What the fuck are you doing? But then someone grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from her.
“What the fuck, Con!” Fraser yelled.
Connor stumbled forward as Fraser shoved him back, putting himself between Connor and Hazel.
Connor looked up at him.
Fraser.
There he was.
The person Connor had been looking for. The person he wanted to yell at. The person he wanted to ask why.
But when Connor opened his mouth, all that came out was a confused, angry sound.
“YOU!” Fraser stared at him.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
Connor shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight.
“No, you—she—”
He pointed toward Hazel, then at Fraser, then back at Hazel.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Fraser demanded.
Connor couldn't answer.
Because he didn't even know anymore.
By then, people had started gathering around them.
Someone was yelling for them to stop. Someone else was filming. There were phones everywhere, people shouting over each other, and the music from inside was still playing like nothing was happening.
Connor could barely make sense of any of it.
The noise felt too loud. The lights felt too bright.
And Fraser was standing in front of him, looking at him like he didn't recognize him.
That hurt more than Connor wanted to admit.
“Con, just stop!” Frank shouted, trying to get through the crowd.
Connor heard his name, but he couldn't figure out where the voice was coming from.
Then someone grabbed him from behind.
“GET OFF ME!” Connor yelled, twisting around.
He didn't even look to see who it was.
He just wanted them to let go. He swung his elbow backward, catching the person holding him.
“FUCK, CON!” Frank growled, stumbling away from him.
Connor turned, trying to figure out what had happened.
“Frank?” But Frank was already moving toward him.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
Connor opened his mouth.
Nothing came out. He wanted to say he didn't know. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell Frank that everything felt wrong and that he couldn't seem to get his head to work properly.
But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, Frank pushed him to the ground.
Connor landed hard, blinking up at the sky as the world seemed to spin around him.
For a second, he just lay there.
He could hear people shouting.
He could hear someone crying.
He could hear his own breathing.
Stay down.
Just stay down, Connor.
He knew he should stay where he was.
He knew he should stop fighting.
But then Fraser was suddenly on top of him, straddling him and looking down at him.
Connor stared up at him.
Everything else seemed to fade into the background.
It was just Fraser.
Fraser, who had been holding him earlier. Fraser, who had been ruffling his hair. Fraser, who had been smiling at him like everything was fine.
And now Fraser was looking at him like he hated him.
Connor's chest tightened.
Don't.
He didn't even know what he was asking Fraser not to do.
Don't look at me like that?
Don't hate me?
Don't leave?
He wasn't sure. Fraser's face softened for a second. His arms stopped moving. His hands shook.
Connor noticed it, even through the haze in his head.
For that tiny moment, Fraser didn't look angry.
He looked like he was struggling with something.
Connor stared up at him, trying to understand.
Fraser?
Then Fraser punched him in the nose.
Pain shot across Connor's face, and he sucked in a breath, bringing his hands up instinctively.
“FUCK!” His eyes watered. He could feel something warm running down his face.
Blood.
His blood.
Fraser's face was still above him, but Connor couldn't make sense of what he was seeing anymore.
He wanted to ask Fraser why he'd done that.
He wanted to ask why he was looking at him like that.
But all Connor could think was that Fraser had hit him.
Fraser had actually hit him.
And something inside Connor seemed to snap.
The crowd around them had grown bigger.
People were shouting, phones were held up everywhere, and someone was yelling that the police were coming.
Connor heard the word police, but it didn't really register.
He was too focused on Fraser. Fraser was still there. Still looking at him. Still angry.
And Connor couldn't stop thinking about Hazel, the photo, the way Fraser had looked at her.
His thoughts kept jumping from one thing to another.
He knew he should stop.
He knew this had gone too far.
But every time he tried to think, another wave of anger seemed to take over.
He pushed Fraser away, making him fall onto the ground beside him.
Then Connor moved before he could think about it, climbing on top of Fraser and pinning his arms with his knees.
“CONNOR!” someone screamed.
Connor barely heard them. He looked down at Fraser, but the person underneath him didn't quite look like the Fraser he knew.
His mind was a mess.
Part of him knew it was Fraser.
His Fraser.
The person who made him laugh, who played with his hair, who made him feel like maybe he wasn't as alone as he sometimes thought he was.
But the rest of him couldn't seem to connect those thoughts to what was happening.
All he could see was someone who had hurt him.
Someone who had made him feel stupid for thinking there could ever be something between them.
Stop. Connor, stop.
He heard the thought somewhere in his head.
He knew he needed to stop. But his body wasn't listening. He threw another punch.
Then another.
He couldn't tell how many times he'd swung his arm. He couldn't tell how much time had passed. Everything was happening too quickly, and somehow, at the same time, everything felt far away.
Fraser was saying something. Connor couldn't understand him. Someone grabbed Connor's shoulder. He jerked away.
“GET OFF HIM!” a police officer yelled.
Connor didn't react.
He couldn't seem to hear anything properly anymore.
“PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” The words sounded distant, like they were coming from the other side of a wall.
Connor kept moving, his thoughts tangled together until he couldn't separate what he was feeling from what was actually happening.
He was angry. He was hurt. He was scared.
And underneath all of it, there was a little voice telling him that he needed to stop before he ruined everything.
But he couldn't seem to reach it.
“GET OFF I JUST-!”
Suddenly, hands were on Connor's arms again after he got out of the grasp. Someone pulled him backward, and Connor fought against them instinctively, twisting and trying to get free.
“LET GO OF ME!”
“STOP RESISTING!” He didn't understand.
Why was everyone grabbing him? Why was everyone yelling?
He tried to turn around, but someone held his arms behind him, pulling him away from Fraser.
“FRASER!”
Connor didn't even know why he'd shouted his name.
Maybe he wanted Fraser to look at him.
Maybe he wanted him to say something.
Maybe he just wanted someone he knew.
But Fraser didn't answer.
Connor was dragged farther away, still struggling against the people holding him.
“CONNOR, STOP!” Frank yelled.
Connor looked toward the sound of his voice, but Frank's face seemed blurry.
Everything was blurry. There were too many people. Too much noise. Too many things happening at once. He couldn't keep up.
Then he looked down. He was no longer on top of Fraser.
He was standing—or trying to stand—while several people held him in place. And Fraser was on the ground a few feet away.
Connor blinked.
Once.
Twice.
He looked at Fraser's face, then at his own hands.
There was blood on them.
His blood.
Fraser's blood.
Connor stared at his hands, his breathing suddenly catching in his throat.
What did I do?
He looked back at Fraser.
Fraser's face was badly bruised, and there was blood on his shirt.
He looked like he'd been through a horrible fight.m
Because he had.
Because Connor had been fighting him.
Connor's stomach dropped.
“No,” he whispered.
Nobody seemed to hear him.
“No, no, no…”
He tried to move toward Fraser, but the people holding him wouldn't let him go.
“Fraser,” Connor called, his voice breaking.
“Fras?”
Fraser looked up.
Their eyes met for a second.
And Connor had never seen him look so terrified.
Not annoyed.
Not angry.
Terrified.
Connor stopped struggling for a moment.
Because that was Fraser.
That was the person he'd wanted to find all night.
The person he'd wanted to talk to. The person he'd wanted to ask if he liked him. And now Fraser was looking at him like he didn't know what Connor might do next.
Connor's throat tightened.
He wanted to explain.
He wanted to tell Fraser he hadn't meant for any of this to happen.
He wanted to tell him he was sorry.
But his thoughts were all tangled up, and he couldn't figure out which words to say first.
He didn't even know if Fraser would want to hear them.
The last thing Connor saw was the handcuffs locking around his wrists. He was still fighting against the officers holding him, trying to understand what the fuck was happening.
Then he looked up.
Fraser.
He was staring at Connor with the most terrified expression Connor had ever seen. His face was bruised, his shirt was stained, and he looked like he didn't even recognize the person in front of him.
Connor looked past him for a second, his eyes struggling to focus.
Macklin was standing a few feet away, looking like he didn't know what to do. Will had one arm wrapped around him, and Frank was standing beside them, his face pale as he looked between Connor and Fraser.
Then there was Hazel.
She was still lying on the ground, unconscious, with people crouched beside her. Connor couldn't understand why nobody was moving her or why everyone looked so scared. He couldn't even remember exactly what had happened anymore.
What did I do?
His stomach twisted.
Fraser?
Connor wanted to say something. Anything. He wanted to ask if he was okay, if he hated him, if he was ever going to talk to him again.
But the words wouldn't come.
An officer stepped closer, and Connor barely had time to turn his head before the butt of the officer's gun struck him.
His thoughts scattered.
“Fraser, I’m—“
Everything went black.