𝓗𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽. 𝓝𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓶.
"Sometimes in the race to be loved, we forget that the most important person that can love us, is ourselves."
Conan gets a dare to talk to Heather an...
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The garden outside had huge arched gateway that lead them through. From above fell masses of green leaves like a waterfall. Adorned with flowers, Conan brushed his hands on the them as he passed under them. The outer courtyard was fenced with white bricks and a huge hedge grew over them.
There was a stone platform that Conan presumed used to have a swing until recently. Kim had transformed the place by putting down three chairs and arranging rocks like a circle. In between, she had placed firewood soaked in kerosene.
"Hey!" she said enthusiastically and beckoned them towards her. "Nice skirt, Heath. Glad to know you liked my present."
Heath smiled ruffling her curly hair and she moaned fixing her hair again.
"When is your birthday?" Conan asked, settling on one of the chairs.
"Twenty-Fifth March," he said, sitting opposite to him and folding his legs. "Your's?"
"Fifth of December."
"Can I get you one present for birthday and Christmas?" he asked playfully, grabbing a can of soda and opening it.
"No freaking way," Conan said and grinned, his pointy teeth exposed. Heath looked away. Again. Conan didn't get where he was going with that. He felt stupid every time he did it. Every time he looked away, he felt rejected. He can't love you, the voice at the back of his head seethed. He can only love, Julian.
It's okay then, he thought. It doesn't matter if he likes me, Julian or whomever. I just want to see him be happy. It doesn't have to be with me.
Loving someone meant freeing them, to Conan. Loving someone meant letting them go and let them be themselves. It meant giving them freedom. Love is funny, he thought, because it's a bond of freedom.
Wait, am I in love with him?
He stared at him as he had some conversation with his friend. He always looked so meek, scared and submissive. He didn't laugh very often but when he did, the had this huge dorky smile plastered over his face. The way his eyes formed those tiny little wrinkles when he smiled. How he would always hold out his hand to him. How he would clasp it when it fit right in.
Even if I am not in love, he thought, I will be soon enough.
"In love with whom?" Lim asked, faking a perplexed expression.
"Did I say that out loud?" he said, shaking off the laziness. "Ah, I meant this beer and vodka. I don't r-really drink but I am in love."
