This is stupid. He doesn't even remember how it happened, and he despises himself for it.

One second, he's at Al La Mode, ordering ice cream by himself, and the next, the floor plummets from beneath his feet, his body begins to tremble uncontrollably, and he can't remember how to breathe. The reason? The girl behind the counter asked for his order, he made his order, and it turned out that they were out of that flavor. Just seven words, and he was sent into panic mode.

He holds the sides of his head, apologizing profusely as the girl gazes in befuddlement and the line behind him grows impatient. "I'm sorry, I don't even know what I was thinking, ordering that flavor," he stammers, feeling himself choke as he steps back.

"Um, it's okay. Just order another flavor. It's not your fault we're out; you didn't know. Please calm down, sir," she consoles, worriedly watching as he sinks to the ground, still apologizing. "S-someone please call a hospital or something!"

With shaky hands, Evan types up a message to his boyfriend with a haphazard struggle. 'Connor. Need you. Right now. At Al La Mode,' it reads.

Ping!

Connor, bored with his dad's description of baseball, hears his phone go off. Discreetly, he pulls it out from his pocket and reads the text from his boyfriend on the lock screen under the table. 'Connor. Need you. Right now. At Al La Mode.'

"Shit," he says as his eyes widen and he stands.

"Connor, language," Mr. Murphy scolds.

"I don't have time to listen to your baseball adventures with your idiot friends when you were a loser kid, Dad. Evan needs me," he snaps, forgetting to push his chair in before running off.

The door to the ice cream place swings open; within minutes of receiving Evan's text, Connor has arrived. Panicked, he looks around for the other teen. "Hey," he says, grabbing another guy's shoulder, "have you seen a guy with a blue sweater vest and khakis in here?"

The other guy nods. "Yeah, man. He's right there, freakin' out," he muses, pulling his cellphone out and pointing to Evan. "This is gonna go viral!"

Connor's nose scrunches up in disgust, and he snatches the phone from his hand before throwing it to the ground, shattering it. "Try making that go viral now, asshole," he retorts before going to rescue his boyfriend. He sees Evan clearly, on the floor, in the fetal position, hiccuping and hyperventilating.

When he gets to him and touches his back, he's trembling like a 7.0 earthquake. "Evan? Evan, can you hear me? Listen to my voice," he coos softly, rubbing his back. Evan, still trembling, looks up at Connor with tearful eyes. Connor wraps his arms around him. "Everything's going to be okay. You want to go to my house and just eat ice cream there instead?" Evan, with his face buried in his chest, nods slowly as Connor pets his head of light brown hair.

"What a baby," Zoe jokingly comments as she enters the living room and spots Evan eating an ice cream sandwich and cuddling with Connor on the couch.

Connor flicks the bird at her, hugging Evan tighter. "Bite me, bitch," he retorts, making Evan blush at how protective he is.

"Whatever," Zoe replies, passing them and going up to her room.

"Your mother's making dinner, Connor," Mr. Murphy starts as he walks into the living room, "so I think Evan should-"

"Would it be alright if I spent the night, Mr. Murphy?" Evan blurts, sitting up. "Please. We-we won't do anything weird, I-I promise."

"Oh my god," Connor adds in, sliding a hand over his face as it heats up. Evan is just too cute, but hearing him say stuff like that to his fucking father makes him wish for death's sweet embrace. "Dad, ignore him. Just let him sleep over."

Mr. Murphy observes the anxious expression on Evan's face as he awaits an answer. "Another fight with your mother?" he asks curiously.

"Dad, quit meddling!" Connor shouts, making Evan jump. "Mom, can Evan spend the night?" he calls, rubbing Evan's back as they wait for an answer.

"Oh, that's perfectly fine, sweetheart!" Mrs. Murphy replies from the kitchen. Mr. Murphy sighs and goes back to the kitchen to help her cook.

"Want to watch reality tv shows and make fun of them in my room?" Connor asks, though Evan knows this translates to: "Want to go make out in my room?"

He nods vigorously while finishing his ice cream sandwich, throwing his arms around Connor's neck as the latter picks him up princess style and carries him upstairs.