Everything I Never Told You ( Conan Gray )

VII. In My Memories

"Quit staring at your phone screen." Limca quipped as she swiped the phone out his hands. Heathcliff had barely observed her hand in his peripheral vision and suddenly, the girl was waving the phone in front of him. It wasn't taunting. 

He looked around, not wanting to meet her eyes. She would discern that expression in a second. He didn't want to have a mental breakdown in the middle of a public place. There were people around him. They were all sitting on black metal chairs, under colorful umbrellas and sipping drinks or eating cakes. Everyone was so immersed in their phone, not wanting to look up. 

In a way, he knew what they felt. 

"Heath, did something happen?" Limca asked. Her tone was laced with concern. 

Sometimes Heathcliff just wanted to disappear. He didn't want to be seen. He felt something swell in his chest. His heart hurt, as if it was struggling to pump blood and keep him alive. The smoothie in his hands slipped. He didn't realize his hands were shaking for no reason. It was as if his whole body was withering and weakening. His body? He couldn't even feel it anymore. The cup fell on his lap, he was positive but he couldn't feel the coolness of the drink. He tried to wipe it up but something was stopping him.

He couldn't even utter a sentence. Suddenly, he was in the dark.

**********

He woke up in his bedroom. He was in his bed. Everything that had happened to him seemed like a dream. In fact, he felt like he was reborn. His stared. His room was the same. Pastel green walls that gave the room it's comforting and homely look. On it were photocards that he had received in mail. There was only frame on the wall. It had a photo of him and Jules. Jules, Jules, Jules. They were both looking at the camera and smiling because they were with each other. Julian with his clear blue-green eyes that looked like glass and his chocolate brown hair. Jules had an arm around him, secured tightly. Heathcliff wasn't resisting his touch but rather he seemed to enjoy it. 

For months the photo meant the difference between getting over him or hoping he was out there somewhere. In some other universe he was alive.

The yellow curtains blew in the breeze and startled him. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

"Heathcliff, are you awake?" It was his Uncle. His soft yet dominating voice flowed though the door. 

"Barely." He croaked. He wanted to cry right now. He wanted to drown in a sea of pain. But he didn't want his Uncle to worry. He didn't want him to feel sorry for him. 

The knob twisted and the door opened. His Uncle stepped in. Every time Heathcliff looked at him, he felt sad. Sad that he was draining some other man, who probably was getting enough bullshit from others. He was such a burden on him. Heathcliff would happily move out of the large and well equipped house, if the prices in LA were not so high. Also, there was his mom who would be worry herself to death. 

His Uncle looked placid and bland. He always had that dry look on his face that usually suggest contempt. He was wearing an old jacket which Heathcliff's mom had gotten him years ago. 

"Limca bought you here." He said. "You had a panic attack."

"Did you tell mom?" He quickly asked. 

His Uncle's eyes softened and he looked at the floor. "No, I kept her out of this but-"

"Please," Heathcliff begged, he wanted to jump out of his bed and beg on his knees. "I don't want her to worry."

"She is a parent." He snapped, not coldly. "She will worry, of course."

"Not if you don't tell her." Heathcliff could feel the hot tears behind his eyes struggling to get out and roll down. He hung his head. 

"I am taking that photo" His uncle said and immediately his head snapped up. He knew what he was talking about. ", if you don't want your mom to know."

"No." Heathcliff said. He rarely ever said this word in his life. "Please."

"You need to forget, Heathcliff." He sighed as he walked over and took that frame off the wall. 

Heathcliff hung his head down  and resisted crying. The tears poured down anyway. The thing about crying was the more you resisted it, the more it built up against you. And then suddenly tears were flowing your cheeks and you were whimpering. 

"I CAN'T FORGET HIM!" He shouted, his hands were now balled into fists. "I WON'T FORGET HIM!"

********

Heathcliff had been paying Julian's phone bill for months now. He tapped on the call option and after while it switched to voice mail.

"Hell-o! I am Julian. You have reached my voice mail because I am ignoring you." BEEP!

It was his coarse and throaty voice. It was soft and lyrical and the same time to Heathcliff. He clutched the phone nearer to his ear. He called on the number twenty times that day, just to hear his voice. Julian's voice...

**********

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Hit the vote button. It really helps me...