Everything I Never Told You ( Conan Gray )

LXIX. Middle School Kids Should Not Be Photographed

"You should stand up for yourself more, bud," Heath's mom said, extremely concerned. He had told her he had moved in with Conan because Micah's grandma didn't approve. 

Heath stared at the view just outside Conan's place, seemingly endless and overwhelming. He felt his stomach turn as he glanced down at the road where he could fall if the glass broke. He doubted anyone would survive it for it seemed endless even though it could bring about the end very quickly. He never liked heights as a child either. All he could imagine was himself falling down and dying. He never rode ferris wheels, ski lifts or anything that shared the same prospect. 

"I will try," he smiled sadly, knowing half heartedly that he was lying. He was conceding. It was the impact of having lived with his father who didn't like authority being questioned. 

"Did you have breakfast?" she asked. God, she would never stop with the motherly nagging. "I hope you did."

"I did," he lied again. His appetite had drastically decreased recently. He would find himself thinking food wasn't that necessary or wanting to throw up when he tried to eat. "And I will have lunch, I promise. I love you."

"I love you, too bud," she said softly. "Take care, okay?"

"I will," Heath said, flinching as his eyes fell on the ground beneath the glass. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. "Bye."

"You should draw the curtains, if you don't like seeing the outside," Conan said, emerging behind him and placing his chin on his shoulder. 

"I fucking hate heights," Heath said, shaking off the sensation. There was nothing heights could do to him as long he stayed away from them. Stayed on the ground. 

"Don't look," Conan said, grabbing his shoulders and leading him to the couch. Heath could feel his heartbeat return to it's normal pace on touching the couch. Somehow touching something he could sit on, or sitting on the floor always made it better. Maybe it was the stillness of it. "Maybe you're dizzy because you're hungry?"

"I am not hungry," Heath shook his head reluctantly. 

"You have skipped three meals, how are you not hungry?"

"I ate dinner," he said, unwillingly. "I am fine." 

Conan opened his mouth to speak and the other assumed it was to point out something abnormal about his eating habits. Yes, they were getting kind of unordered and eccentric. He would eat only if it were absolutely necessary or if Conan forced him to. 

"You're getting skinnier," Conan commented and Heath felt relieved, thankful he hadn't said something to guilt him into eating. "Not skinny-skinny, the weak skinny."

"I feel like fricking throwing up every time I eat," Heath admitted. "I will have lunch, I promise."

"I am sorry, if I sounded like a mother," Conan said. He really had sounded like one, to the other. Concerned and fussy for no reason. 

"It's okay," Heath merely said.

"I am playing two shows in New York next week," Conan said, his angular searching Heath's face for a reaction. 

"That's good, isn't it?" he asked. He was clueless when it came to these things. "I will water your plants."

"I-No-I mean yes but that's not the point," Conan said, giving him a bizarre look. "I will be away for a week."

"A week?!" Heath cried out. "Ahhh, I am already missing you."

"Is there anyway you could come?" Conan asked, his eyes shining with optimism. The way he said it Heath wanted to skip all the concept meetings he was supposed to be in. It was some Australian artist under some division of the record.