[Deep Red Carnation]: Alas! for my poor heart

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Flashback

Connor was leaving her for good.

He wasn't going to see her big brown eyes sparkle with mischief, wasn't going to hear her loud laughter ringing in the hallways of their school, wasn't going to have her sneak into his room, touching everything even though she knew he'd give her hell for moving his shit around.

In reality, he loved having her in his vicinity, smelling her apple scented shampoo in his room long after she'd be gone, he was just scared she'd accidentally see something she wasn't supposed to.

Like the olive hairband he stole once and wore around his wrist whenever he'd be away, the photos he took of her with his camera and kept them at random places around his room so he could see them everywhere and brighten his day, her broken pendant, or his collection of every post card she had ever made him for Christmas.

He was afraid she'd find out he was obsessed with her somehow and hate him for it. Because in both his head and mind, he knew it was wrong, knew it was messed up, but he couldn't stop.

Didn't know how to stop.

And now that it was all going to come to an end... it scared him to death.

His world stopped the second he heard his father have yet another loud fight with his mother.

Connor's parents were getting a divorce, but somehow it didn't surprise or bother him anyway. Not really. He almost got to his knees and started singing Hallelujah even though he didn't remember the last time he'd prayed. Not even the first time: no one taught him that when he was a baby.

He knew the divorce would happen eventually, more so after his mom caught his dad fucking one of his lawyers in his study last week. They were back early from yet another random trip to Greece, something his dad didn't see coming, or he wouldn't have Mrs. Iverson bent over his desk as his son and wife pushed the door open.

Now Connor had to bleach his brain to get the mental image out of his head. Disgusting!

He couldn't believe he was still going to keep seeing his father's face, living with him under one roof even, because that was the deal he heard just now: his father was going to keep him, and in return his mother was getting the house. Keeping him was the only condition his father had, while his mother didn't even mention him in her demands.

For some reason it felt like his mother had just... sold him. He wasn't close to her or anything and most of the time he hated her for giving birth to him when she didn't know the first thing about parenting, but still it felt like a betrayal. Another one to add to the list because that's what his parents always did to him - they always betrayed him, they always let him down.

Sometimes he'd lie in bed and try to decide which one was worse: his mother who always forgot about his existence and only used him to get back at his father, or his father who only ever tried to keep him in line so he could boast about his achievements to his circle of douchebag friends as if they were his own.

He hated them both, with every fiber in him...

They hadn't even considered telling him about what was going on yet, and the only information about what was happening under their roof he gathered from their phone calls.

After the traumatizing incident, his mother embarrassed his father in every possible way, in front of every single client he had, so his father was now making arrangements to move to another state and manage another branch of his company not to hurt the current one, where everyone already knew him. Connor didn't care which state, because he wasn't leaving. Hell, no. 

No more leaving his Little Monster.

His father came to a halt as he threw the door of his home office open.

"I'm staying." Connor said curtly, not moving out of his way.

"You can't." His father eyed him suspiciously, surprised that his son even started a conversation with him willingly.

"I'm staying." He repeated determinedly. "I will manage on my own. I always have."

"You're only ten." His father said with a flat tone he found similar to his.

"Twelve."

"The point is you can't." His eyes held the same coldness Connor often recognized when looking in the mirror. Some days he wondered if he'd end up just like his father when he grew up - a calculating ruthless liar who only cared about himself. He hated the idea so much, sometimes it'd give him insomnia.

"I can. Worst case scenario, Sophie will help me out if needed."

"I'm not going to leave my only, underage son without supervision. Besides, your pathetic mother is selling the house already."

"What?" His heart shattered in front of his feet. "No, she doesn't. You can't do this!"

"It's because of that girl, isn't it? Mia. That's why you want to stay."

When Connor didn't answer, just stared at his father with a blank face, he smirked as if he was in on some secret Connor didn't know.

"Oh, son." Connor didn't know why every time his father referred to him like that, it felt like an insult. "There will be other playthings for you with prettier faces and better communication skills than she possesses."

Connor shoot him a disgusted look.

"Don't talk about her like that." He snapped.

"It's the truth. Sure, the Jones' are a family friend, but that girl? Straight from Neverland. She can't even form a coherent sentence without causing you a headache with all her hyperactive nonsense."

"Of course, miserable people like you would have chronic allergies to happiness and kindness, Father." He spat out with a smirk, making the last word roll out of his mouth like a curse. No one could insult his Little Monster, no one. "And I get it, loyalty is a foreign term to you, but just because I'm your son, doesn't mean I don't have morals either."

He felt the slap deep in his bones and hated to admit that it was so strong he stumbled on his feet.

His father was never physical with him or his mother, but maybe it was because they rarely communicated, or been in the same room together without other people.

Connor turned his face to his father, wiping the blood on the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes caught his mom inside the room, watching it all happen indifferently, and yet she didn't say one single word. It was sad, how little that surprised him.

Still, Connor was smirking because he'd gotten to his father. Suddenly it was one of the most satisfying things he'd ever done. It was surely going to become addictive.

"That girl always got you in trouble," his father started after assessing him with a morbid realization. "Kept me wondering how she could manipulate you into doing things willingly when you didn't even like leaving your room. Now I know the answer, and it makes me even more glad to know I'm removing you from her little clutches. Because girls like her, Connor, they grow up to become deathly for people like you."

"People like me?" Connor wondered aloud.

"Weak... She was always going to end up being your downfall, so be grateful I'm helping you avoid making another mistake. Now, go upstairs and pack your things. You're never coming back to this town." He snapped with finality, leaving no room for Connor to talk.

But he was so wrong, Connor was going to come back, no matter how far he would take him. Because someday no one would be able to decide for him, control him, use him, hit him or call him weak. Someday when he'd be older, smarter and stronger, someday when he'd be able to protect her from anything and anyone, he'd come back for her, to her, and let her be his downfall all she wanted.

He just needed to bide his time.

And as he watched his father shut the office door back on his face, he made a promise to himself.

He might be leaving, but he would never leave her.

Present

Connor: Can't stop thinking about you.
Connor: Your scent.
Connor: Your skin.
Connor: That mouth.
Connor: The sounds you made when you were in my arms.
Connor: Fuck, now I'm hard in Kai's kitchen.

Mia: I love waking up to texts like this. 🤭 Keep them coming... please? I already miss you too. You're staying with Kai?

Connor: Yeah.

Mia: More info please???

Connor: Didn't want to get traumatized by the loud sounds Dylan and Snow obviously made last night.

Mia: You're just jealous because you want me and I'm not there.

Connor: I won't even try to deny that.

Mia: I'm glad you've decided to admit your obsession with me. 🥳 So next time take me with you, or just don't leave me at all. 🥺

Connor: I will, I won't.

Mia: As much as I find your texts adorably (sometimes hilariously) short and with excellent punctuation, please write more elaborating texts.

Connor: Which part of me wanting to duck you until you can barely walk would you like me to elaborate?

Mia: Hahaha, omg you typed duck. 😂

Connor: Ducking autocorrect.
Connor: FUCKING autocorrect.
Connor: You know exactly what I meant, Little Monster.
Connor: So? Which part?

Mia: The lady is dying from embarrassment right now!!!😳Please, kindly contact her after her funeral or leave your message after the signal, she'll get it in her afterlife. Beeeeep

Connor: Brat.
Connor: When am I seeing you again?

Mia: As soon as you are back in NY. Did you get your ticket already?

Connor: Yeah. Will land at around 3AM on Tuesday.

Mia: Aren't you worried about uni? You always miss classes.

Connor: Not a problem.

Mia: Elaborating texts, Connor, remember?

Connor: I'll explain it all once we meet.

Mia: Can you come over right from the airport?

Connor: Won't you be tired? It will be too late, and you'll be exhausted because of your classes.

Mia: I don't care. Please come over to my place right from the airport.

Connor: That's what you want?

Mia: Yes... I can't wait to kiss you again.

Connor: I will then.
Connor: And next time give me a warning before saying shit like that.

Mia: Oh yeah? Then here's your warning, Mr. Black.
Mia: ⚠️ ‼️ ⛔️
Mia: I'm dying to have your hands and mouth on every part of my body. And this time I won't let anything or anyone stop us.
Mia: Did you pass out? Hahaha

Connor: Just plotting the best way to punish you for that teasing mouth of yours.

Mia: I've got some ideas.

Connor: So do I, Sky, so do I.

"I think my heart is going to explode," I confess to my psychiatrist in a whisper, hand over my mouth as if I'm sharing a secret (which I technically am), before kicking my feet in the air and rolling around in my chair. My psychologist doesn't react, just stares at me without moving, breathing even, but it's okay, considering she's a plant.

Since I couldn't bring all my plants from home without hurting them, and my apartment in New York is quite small, I've only settled for three - a pale yellow orchid, a snow-white gardenia and the most beautiful fiddle leaf fig.

They look so healthy, it makes me proud to see them grow and blossom. I used to spend a lot of time in my garden, more so after the accident, and I'd always talk to my plants. Now that I can't tell Sydney about Connor yet, I need them more than anything. Because if I don't talk about him, I might seriously burst like a firework on the Fourth of July. I just can't keep it all inside!

"Do you think he can eventually love me? I think he will. And I think it will be the most beautiful thing in my life." I continue. "He's just so intense, I can't think straight when I'm around him. And all these new things I am and still will be finding out about him..."

After Connor left, I spent an hour jumping around my room while singing, and then complaining about not wanting to take a shower, so I'd not lose Connor's scent and the sensation of his touch. Eventually I gave in though.

I took my makeup off, smiling and giggling in the mirror the entire time, before taking a long shower while flying in the clouds, and then changing into my PJs. Hugging his blazer against my chest, I spent the night kicking my feet in the air and happy-screaming into my pillow.

I don't think I've ever felt so... consumed like this.

When Connor texted me that his plane was taking off, I tried to busy my mind with searching him on social media, so I could stare at his face until I'd fall asleep.

Before I found him in New York, I allowed myself to search him on every kind of social media once a year - only once a year, and that's on his birthday. I never found anything, and this time too there weren't any results. I always knew he was not much of an Internet guy, and it only served as another turn on for me. Although I'd want nothing more than to see his face everywhere.

However, I was completely shocked when I googled him last night: there was a single photo of him leaning over a desk in some office, one hand on it to support him, the other visibly sketching.

Jesus, he looked so edible with his uncharacteristic white polo loosely tucked under a sleek pair of black pants, the latter secured with a simple belt. He had the buttons on his shirt fully undone, exposing smooth, tanned skin, a pair of dark sunnies hanging from the distracting gap.

Meanwhile, the muscles on his arms were stretching the fabric like nobody's business, and his right arm, the one he was leaning on, looked even more lickable because of the veins popping from his weight.

He had a buzzcut too, adding the usual edge he carried around him even when he was still a kid, and oh my, I don't think I've ever loved buzzcuts so much. I decided to ask him to bring it back sometime, but then again, I'd miss his messy, bedroom hair, and also would need to get him to a deserted island with zero population.

I realized I had very serious issues when it came to him.

Why God, why did I have to be in love with someone so irresistibly, undeniably gorgeous?

There was also a man I've never seen before in the photo, sitting across from him and eyes on Connor's draft paper rolls. He seemed to be in his late thirties, with a dark stubble across his chin, messy hair and very striking honey-brown eyes.

I drooled over the photo longer than it's probably considered appropriate, before downloading and cropping it so it was only Connor in the picture and following the link attached to it. It took me to a short article, all in Italian.

And after copy-pasting it into a translator I realized yet again that I don't know the adult Connor at all.

"Dante De Carlo working on the most controversy project of the 21st century with the winner of his Excellence Prize."

That's what the title of the article said according to the translation.

My jaw dropped to the floor as I read a vaguely translated text about this Dante guy, apparently one of the most famous Italian architect-restorers. It mentioned Connor, being the winner of his special prize in some Italian competition 3 years ago and then being his understudy, doing several projects with him and now being his collaborator for a project assigned by the government but disapproved by many locals.

The translation was very messy, and even though I tried to search more information about the project or the architect himself to understand Connor better, all the articles popping up were in Italian.

So I saved the first one I found to ask Connor about it when he is back even though I was dying of curiosity.

Still am, among many other things, as I stare at my gardenia-psychiatrist at 11 AM the next day, casually rereading my texts with Connor earlier this morning.

My eyes catch the shoes I wore yesterday and that are now on my highest shelf like a trophy because they've been blessed by him. Because they took me to him, because they are yet another reminder of all the ways Connor's owned me last night.

They were a pair of white, semi-transparent kitten heels, with red tiny flowers made of beads all around them and over the ankle straps. They are a work of art, honestly, and I'm so glad they have become a part of my most beautiful memory.

I'm deep into reminiscing about last night when suddenly my phone pings, almost throwing me off the chair. Sydney's name flashes on the screen, making me check the time and almost shrink! Shoot, I should have already been on my way, and I've not even picked my car up.

I slide into a pair of chocolate brown, pointed-toe shoes with low heels and a single big bow in the middle of each pair, check my outfit in the mirror for the last time - straight, high-waisted dark blue jeans almost reaching the ground, a beige cropped cardigan, and a shoulder bag matching my shoes - grab my umbrella and leave the house in a rush.

It takes me a while to get my car and drive to the very aesthetic coffee shop Syd and I decided to spend some time at. I've also taken my iPad and sketchbook, in case inspiration hits me.

It's been raining in NY since early in the morning, so the moment I enter the cafe, it feels like I'm stepping into some cozy, autumn movie scene. The atmosphere is warm, with dark brown furniture, granite walls, leather coaches and armchairs, yellow lights and big windows to watch the rainy streets.

Once I recover from the distracting scent of coffee and freshly baked pies, my eyes find Sydney instantly, sitting near one of the windows, talking animatedly to a guy that's no other than Jack!

Only his back is visible from here, but his hair and form leave no doubt that it's him. I consider turning around and walking out of the cafe, because a) she never mentioned Jack was joining us too, b)this was supposed to be only girls' day and c) what will Connor think if he finds out about this?

I mean yes, I don't have to explain anything to him because technically I'm not doing anything wrong, but this will definitely make me look like a liar, while in reality, I had no clue about it either.

With a murderous gaze I stare Sydney down across the room, mentally screaming at her to look up, and after a couple of seconds she does.

She gives me a big smile, waving me over to the table, but once she realizes I'm giving her "what in the world are you doing?" look, it quickly changes to uncertainty.

"All good," she mouths, doing the universal sign of 'okay", when I'm close enough to see, making me want to shout "no, it's not."

As I come to a stop next to the table, Jack looks up from the hot cappuccino set in front of him, and we both freeze.

"Hi," I say with a small, nervous smile. He looks obviously hangover - big dark circles under his eyes, redshot eyes, unshaven small mustache that was a part of his Halloween look yesterday. And yet, he manages to look very cute and adorable with that disheveled look, like a lost puppy.

"Hey," he says, almost stumbling over his words, as he stands up to his feet.

He reaches for an awkward hug and I meet him halfway before Syd throws her arms around us, turning it into a group hug.

"I missed hanging out with both of you at the same time. So, call me selfish, but I just wanted to break the ice sooner." She says with her adorable big blue eyes, and I melt. From the looks of it, so does Jack.

"You mean, you missed ganging up together against me?" Jack teases before we all let go of each other and get to our seats.

There are three chairs around the small round table, the only vacant one next to Jack, and since both of them have already ordered, I don't want to make it more awkward and just throw myself next to him.

"Don't even start. We are no bullies." Sydney says, which turns out to be the perfect opening for all of us to dive into the old and gold times of our friendship.

We have the best time ever, laughing and roasting each other for hours and then discussing our classes, gossips and what not. Add to that the delicious cinnamon roll and iced latte I order and I could leave here forever. Of course, only if Connor were here too. Which reminds me... I take my phone out and send him a quick text as Syd and Jack keep bickering in the background.

Mia: If you kissed me right now, you'd taste cinnamon. Thought you should know, since you love it so much.

Connor: You still remember...
Connor: You know what you'd taste if you kissed me right now?

Mia: What?

Connor: Yourself.

I chock on my coffee a little, causing worried and questioning looks from my friends.

"You okay?" Sydney asks, concerned, as Jack hands me a napkin. "You look red."

"All good, sorry. Just an ice cube." I answer with a smile, trying not to blush harder as I look down at my phone again.

Mia: You got me blushing so hard, Sydney is worried.

Connor: And you'd be my all-time favorite, too.

Oh my God, he just can't not get me hot every time we talk, can he?

"Seriously, are you okay?" Sydney makes me snap out of my head, and lock my phone quickly. "You look like a tomato. A smashed one."

I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head at her.

"Stop exaggerating."

"Okay then," she says reluctantly, watching Jack with a worried expression on her face.

Did she guess that I'm talking to a guy? Was I really that obvious?

I don't have time to check Jack's reaction because next thing I know, Sydney pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens her front camera.

"Alright, my chaps and gals, time for a selfie. Say 'shiiiiit'!!!"

By the time I get home it's almost seven in the evening, so once I park I pull my phone out to check my texts. I have a couple of notifications from Instagram, Sydney tagging me in her new post, some comments on my last sketch of a rose garden. I ignore them all, clicking on my messages, and suddenly realize I've not replied to Connor's last message.

Mia: Hey, sorry, Sydney distracted me because you almost made me have a heart attack. So what were you saying?

I wait for a couple of minutes, heart beating furiously in my chest, as I anticipate his reply.

It never comes.

~*~*~*~

Mia: Morning! Only 2 nights to go until you're back.
Mia: Are you busy? How's the birthday party going? Text me when you have time?
Mia: Everything okay?
Mia: Connor, seriously, everything alright with you?
Mia: It's been more than 24 hours, Connor, is it so difficult to let me know you're okay?
Mia: Please, tell me you're alright.
Mia: Text me, when you see this, please?
Mia: I know I might sound annoying, but I'm just so worried. I don't have any other way to know you're safe and well.
Mia: I miss you.
Mia: Please, just be okay.

~*~*~*~

The hallucination is new this time as I lie in my bed paralyzed... it's the worst I've experienced, the longest I've been paralyzed.

It's a bloody, torn up face and body hovering over me, limbs cracked backwards, unrecognizable, only his eyes... they are green, cold, dead.

They are his.

There are open, hideous wounds all over the creature, as it cocks his head to the side to study me curiously.

Tears roll down my eyes, and I'm dying from the cry trapped inside my body, but nothing happens. Suddenly it jerks closer, his blood and guts dripping all over me, until his cold breath hits the corner of my ear.

"Got you!" It hisses like a snake.

In my head, I'm praying to God, to anyone who'll listen, to make this end faster, I'm begging myself to finally move my own body, just closing my eyes would save me from the horror. But I just lie there, dying even though I'm alive still.

Eventually, it disappears, I fall asleep and wake up when the morning arrives and my alarm goes off. But the pain in my chest never leaves.

~*~*~*~

Five pair of eyes stare down at me suspiciously and confused as I come to a stop in front of a group of guys smocking in a secluded area in the parking lot of our university.

It's Monday afternoon, in the middle of the second class, so there aren't many students out of the lecture halls. I've not heard from Connor yet and to say I'm stressed out, worried out of my mind, completely exhausted is an understatement.

All my messages have been delivered, I even called him twice but without any luck. And since last night's hallucination while I was paralyzed, my mind has been racing with millions of terrible possibilities.

Please, God, let him be okay. Don't let anything bad happen to him.

"Hi! Can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, looking between the redhead twins Connor lives with.

"Which one, sweetie?" The one with a small mark next to his nose asks with a cynical smile.

"Both of you."

"Decided to go for the double pack, huh!?" He continues.

"Sorry, but I really don't have the mood for small talk. It's important. So if you'd be kind enough to spare me two minutes, I'd be really grateful."

"How grateful are we talking?" The same one continues without a care in the world, giving me hope that Connor must be at least okay.

"Can we watch?" Another guy I didn't know existed until now chimes in. I'm about to open my mouth and send them both to hell, when the other twin beats me to it.

"Ronan." He says with a scolding tone, fixing his brother with a gaze.

"Sam?" The tone of the other one matches his brother's. They exchange a silent conversation with their eyes, before dropping their joints in the trashcan, and walking away from their crowd, with me hot on their tails.

"When's the last time you talked to Connor?" I ask the mature twin, Sam, as we stop under a willow tree. When they give me a suspicious look, I correct myself. "Trouble, I mean."

"This morning, actually." Sam says.

They did?

"And everything's okay with him?" I ask leaning against the tree a little, for emotional support.

"What's it to you?" The annoying twin, apparently Ronan, says.

"I need to know he's alive and well, that's all I'm asking for."

"Why do you care?" Sam presses.

"That's none of your business." But when they keep staring me down with flat gazes, I decide to offer a part of the truth. After all, I'm not sure what we are, who I am to Connor right now. "We're working on a project together. I texted him several times for the last two days, but he didn't answer, so I was worried something might have happened."

"He is both alive and well, sounds like you've just been ghosted." Ronan says and then it all finally starts to sink in.

He's forgotten me...

"Still, he's coming back tomorrow, right?" I search Sam's eyes.

"How do you even know?" Ronan mutters.

"Please, just tell me." I mumble, exhausted, running my hand through my hair.

"No. He's taking two weeks off." My heart shatters after Sam's words and I find it difficult to stand on my feet.

"He is? But why? How? How about his assignments?"

"He doesn't have to do them to get a degree." Sam explains, and before I can ask what he means, he beats me to it. "Your name is Mia, isn't it?"

"Yes." I breathe out, confused.

"It makes sense, then." He says thoughtfully.

"What does?"

None of them answers, they just walk away after giving me a weird look I can't quite understand.

I don't know how I reach the first bathroom on the first floor, tears blurring my vision. I manage to lock myself inside a vacant cubicle before breaking down like a house made of cards, with silent tears flowing down my cheeks without a stop.

I try to make no sound, as I cry and cry and cry.

It was his plan all along, wasn't it? To lead me on, say all the right things, make me crave his touch, look at me with that adoring and needy way that set me on fire. To give me hope that we were possible, and then take it all away just as fast.

And then, to just abandon me.

He wasn't done with his revenge, he wasn't done hating me. How stupid of me to think one single kiss would erase it all and change his mind.

I can't believe I fell for it.

God, I almost begged him to make love to me! Was he mentally laughing at me the whole time I was willingly handing my heart, mind and body to him yesterday?

I just can't believe he'd do this. He's not this person, so why does he have to be this person to me?

It takes a long time for the tears to stop, and for me to be able to breathe without feeling like I'm being stabbed in the chest with the sharpest dagger.

My hands are shaking as I pull my phone out of my bag, and start to type furiously.

Mia: I hate you. I hope I never see you again, you heartless monster.

And just when I hit send, all my texts, including the last one, suddenly get marked as 'Read'.

And still, the naive and stupid me waits for him to reply or to call me, to say it was all a misunderstanding. But seconds turn into minutes, and he doesn't say anything.

I take a deep breath, before locking my phone and wiping my eyes with the back of my hands. I'm done, so done with him.

Good job, Trouble, because I give up.

You win. You always do...

~*~*~*~
Author's Note

Do you guys hate me yet? It's okay, feel free to share 😂 I love writing dramatic and sad chapters more than anything, so I LOVE seeing your reactions to them as well. But, listen, please trust me, because the next couple of chapters are going to be the best things I've ever written for Trouble. I promise, you're going to love them too!

We're getting close to the real TEA of the story, soon everything will make sense. And yet, still many things won't... I'm so excited to start Part 2 of this story, I'm always tempted to share more than I should.

As always, please, please support Trouble with votes and comments, they help me get this story noticed by other readers and it motivates me so much.

PS did you know that thanks to all of you Trouble has been trending in various topics on Wattpad? I've added them all in the description of the story, so check it out, because it's all your doing!

Moreover, "Midnight Memories", the first book of the "Memories" universe (Trouble is a part of it too), now has the text-to-speech feature, which allows you to listen to the book on Wattpad! How exciting is that!!!

Again, thank you for supporting Trouble and my writing.

Much love, always!

PS the soundtrack of the chapter is World War 3 by Ruth B., you can also find it in my Trouble playlist on Spotify (melanie.sargsian). Enjoy!