Everything I Never Told You ( Conan Gray )

XIX. Except For You

Author's Note: Hey-o! Drink some water today, besties.

"Coffee?" Conan asked, lifting a sleek eyebrow and a mug. Though he supposed Heathcliff wouldn't refuse since he has already made some for him. 

He nodded and Conan settled beside him on couch. "Here you go," he muttered and passed the mug. Their fingers briefly touched and Conan tried not to find it intimidating. 

"I feel like I am intruding," Heathcliff said meekly. Conan shifted to face him, his thigh between them. 

"No you're not," he said. "I understand that your landlord threw you out."

Heathcliff laughed awkwardly which made Conan a little suspicious as to what happened. "Still, you must feel so weird and uncomfortable."

You have no idea how happy this makes me. 

"It's not a big deal," Conan said. "People should be put out of their comfort zone once in a while. Besides, you needed help. Now, if Kyle tries to kill me, I can expect you punch him once more."

"I just came in at a weird time," Heathcliff said, explaining himself further which Conan now found a little irritating. 

"That's on me," Conan said, feeling abashed. "I shouldn't have blocked you. It's just that you started asking questions-questions-"

"I get it," the boy said. "You never thought the song would reach me. So, you just wrote it and put it on your album."

"Yeah..." he said, laughing to brush away the awkwardness. "I am sorry about that."

"Apology accepted," Heathcliff said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I checked Google too. Heather is a term for someone perfect or basically anyone who makes you feel less important. Did I really make you feel like shit?"

"Not exactly," Conan said, looking away from his eyes. "It was more like I felt shit because a girl I really liked liked you. So, speaking clearly, I made myself feel like shit thinking you were so perfect."

"Which girl?" Heathcliff asked, a little bit surprised. 

"Alina Pratt," he said, remembering the red-head with green eyes. "Like sixty percent of the songs I have written in my life are about her."

"So you are not the one to pick a bone with," he laughed, his eyes glittering in the afternoon sun.

"You do something bad to me," he said, "You get a fucking song."

"I am sorry about it, anyways," he smiled though his eyes suggested anything but. "I know what it feels like to be irrelevant and alone."

"In high school?" Conan asked, partially surprised. Heath rubbed his knobbly knuckles against his palm.

"Imagine this," Heathcliff said, like a movie director, his arms spread out to create a vast expanse, "A gay boy growing up in the south where everyone is so heteronormative. You see everyone get their happy girlfriend or boyfriend but you can't get it. So you smile, like there is nothing wrong, so they like you because that's the only part about yourself they might like."

He exhaled as if he had been holding it inside himself for so long. His face twisted in an expression that suggests relief but a fear. Fear that he has said too much or he will be judged. 

"And you see your friends teasing and making homophobic comments, you shy away and ignore them but it gets under your nerve. You try to make them happy and you do because even though you are nice to everyone, you don't tell them to stop."

"I had no idea it was like this for you," Conan said, his gaze lingering on the boy. 

"No one does unless I tell them," Heathcliff said curtly, staring at the steam escaping from the coffee.  

"Do you share this very often?" Conan asked, slanting his head as if to get a better look at Heath. 

"No," Heathcliff said after a mild pause. "I don't even talk to anyone from High School... except for you, I guess."

He said it reluctantly, like opening the pages of an ashen memory that brought very bad dreams. 

"I don't talk to many people either except for Caroline, Hannah, Gus and Ashley."

Heathcliff nodded, listening to the familiar names. He was never close to any them. Come to think of it, he wasn't close to anyone in his school. 

"It's funny," Conan said as the sun washed the light over the glass panes, painting them a whole new colour, "How you think someone is living the life but in reality they aren't."

"Problems make us and those around us imperfect." 

"So it seems..." Conan grinned even though the whole conversation seemed pretty melancholic. Heathcliff couldn't help but smile a little too. 

"I seemed to have lost my phone," Heathcliff said. He sounded irritated but not complaining. "Could you call it for me?"

"Sure," the boy replied, quickly calling the other. In a while, a soft buzz was audible from beneath the couch's pillows. Heathcliff quickly grabbed it. Conan's eyes followed him around the room. Something twisted in his chest like a dagger as he saw Heathcliff pale. The colour drained from his body. His hands were sort of trembling. He turned around, looking at Conan who had averted his eyes quickly. He left the room and Conan almost believed that he wasn't really there. 

Following the boy out on the deck, he heard noises. 

"I am not coming back, okay? And thanks for murdering my boyfriend! A very- No! You don't underst-Me? Stay away from me!"

Heathcliff turned around to face Conan who was staring at the boy like he was the biggest mystery in his life, one he couldn't wait to unravel.