Two weeks of freedom, eh? Why hadn't he bartered himself more time? Seriously, of all the things he could have done for himself, the least would be to allow more time away from the negaverse.

Still, that meant he had two more weeks to be normal. Better than Labyrinthite kicking his a** and that being the end of it. He really didn't want to go back by force, if he could help it. Of course, Connor was too cowardly to really go through torture and not give up. His spirit wasn't that hardened to the likes of violence.

What to do what to do. He felt sort of like a kid that only had one night until his parents came home- was he supposed to throw a giant party a la Aaron Carter style?

He sighed, looking at his fish tanks. He stared at them for long hours of the day, just sort of following them with his eyes and fingers. What he would give to just disappear into the fishbowl. No responsibilities, no "fate of the world" s**t. He just wanted to exist, floating along with nobody to bother him or tell him he had adult responsibilities. Connor was beginning to hate that word more than anything. Responsibility. It was too mature for his lackadaisical attitude.

He picked up the phone, trying to call ... her once more. It was desperate and he knew it would have no result, but Connor kept clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, she'd want to talk. Even just to hear her say hello would be nice. He needed something, anything. He was clawing at the drapes holding to reach the outside world.

"The number you have reached has been disconnected or-"

Click.

Connor groaned, tossing his phone on the couch in an annoyed bought of childishness. He was getting tired of this cat and mouse chase. No, it wasn't even that when the mouse didn't exist anymore. He was a cat with no purpose, no drive to chase. Maybe that's part of what Labyrinthe was talking about. Having a purpose and family within the negaverse. Is that what this painfully ripping sensation in his heart was? A sort of ... phone call to his own heart? Asking him to just pick up?

He shook his head. "That's ******** stupid." Indeed, it was. Your heart couldn't tell you anything, and even if it could Connor's had been replaced by chaos long, long ago. His heart wasn't anything but a pulsing blood transporter at this point.

Still, he had to do something to shake this weariness. Even Connor could tell he was going down a path that didn't have a pretty ending. He looked back to his computer, scanning over the e-mail from Adam. Maybe this guy could be his saving grace? A friend would be pretty nice.

No, knowing his luck he was going to get some guy that acted sweet to get the room and then was a real big d**k about it.

Goddamn his pessimism.