Everything I Never Told You ( Conan Gray )

LXXVII. At All Times

Conan leaned against Heath's shoulder because he was a little taller than him. Heath somehow managed to keep a straight face even when Conan kissed him on the cheeks repeatedly. He was even eating, just a few kernels of popcorn and Conan was happy that he had pulled off something so helpful for him. It was supposed to be stress free, not people talking around them, no one saying anything about eating. He tried to keep the questions on eating in the bay but somehow his concern would spill out in words. 

Heath smiled as someone said something witty and Conan kissed him again.  

"God, would you stop?" he asked, glancing at him. He didn't look annoyed but flustered. 

"No," he giggled, kissing him again, "I am not stopping."

Heath shook his head, his face glowing with a small smile. "Don't stop then."

Conan kissed him again, but this time on the lips. Heath kissed him back softly. For a second Conan thought they might make out but a scream ripped across the room. Heath flinched back, dazed and Conan, held onto him, his hand on his shoulder. It was the movie. 

"I thought someone broke in," Heath murmured, his shoulders drooping back. Conan slumped his arm around him. They were lying down with a shit ton of quilts over them. Okay, it was a little strategic than it should have been. He wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. 

"It's just us," Conan said, shaking his head. Heath gave him a soft and long look. Sometimes, like now, Conan was convinced that Heath was thinking something about them. He wasn't sure if it was nice or not. He turned his head back to the screen, but not after leaning a little into his touch. 

Conan couldn't concentrate at the movie at all. All he could think of was what Heath was thinking or if he felt comfortable at the moment. Was he cold? Was he feeling okay?

"You don't feel cold right?" 

"No. Do you?" he asked, as if Conan was the one diagnosed with the disease. 

"I feel a little too warm," he asked, realizing that he was wearing a sweater even when he was under a thin blanket. He took off the white buttoned sweater and placed it around his boyfriend's bare shoulders. Heath didn't look like he appreciated it but wouldn't say no either. 

"You sure you don't want it?" he asked doubtfully. 

"No, I feel fine," he assured, resting his chin his shoulder. "I think the main character looks like you."

"He is far too hot," Heath said, shrugging. They did look alike, the same light coloured eyes, dark hair and soft face. 

"You're hot," Conan said, not as a compliment but simply as if he were speaking the truth. "Don't deny it."

"Free compliments are always welcome," Heath smiled and kissed him. Conan pushed a lock of curly hair behind that kept coming in between. Heath's breath hitched for a second when Conan started stroking his collarbone. 

"You're beautiful," Conan said and felt him convulse. 

"You're just saying that because I have been diagnosed," Heath said, breaking away. He looked like he might cry or something. 

Conan's stomach weighed down with disappointment. 

"No," Conan said, pausing the movie. "I am saying that because I love you and I feel like I haven't said it enough." 

"Stop lying to yourself," Heath murmured. "You are tired of me."

"I am not tired of you. Why would be tired of you?" he said in confusion, holding his hand.  

Heath looked away, shaking hi head and was probably drowning in his own thoughts. 

"Tell me, please," Conan said, not looking away. 

"I know you don't like me anymore. No one can. I am goddamn mess. I weigh too much, I sleep too much. I mope all the time. You're scared breaking up with me would trigger me. You think I can't see you being more affectionate? It's all to make me feel better, isn't it? You-You're just done with me but you can't say it."

Conan felt hurt that he had said all of it. He had known something was up in his mind but he couldn't have contemplated that it was this serious. 

"I am not gonna break up with you," Conan said firmly and Heath laughed bitterly, his throat closing up. "I really won't, Heath. Why would I break up with you? I love and I am never letting you go. Do you want to break up with me?"

"NO!'" he said with too much force that he surprised himself. "I-I don't-I love you."

"I promise I am not breaking up with you," Conan said, holding his hands which were cold. "I won't. I am sorry if the affection was too overwhelming or overdone. I just love you and felt like I needed to say it."

"It wasn't overwhelming," Heath shook his head. His expression had turned from fear to acceptance. "I though you were doing it only to make me feel better and you meant none of it."

"I have meant every single word I have told you," Conan said, weaving their fingers. "You feel fine, now?"

"A lot better," Heath said. "I am sorry."

"You say sorry a lot," the curly haired boy noted. "It's not your fault. Don't say it."

"I feel like saying it," he said. 

"You look sleepy," he said, staring at his dropping eyelids and noting his slip up before. "But before you doze off, I have something I need to give you."

Conan reached into the pocket of the sweater and fished two the two bracelets he had bought in New York. He had seen the idea for them online. A piece of metal which oddly shaped teeth cut into it, which was the voice frequency of each saying 'I love you'. He had recorded them during facetime and felt like a creep while doing so. He wanted to give Heath the one with his voice graph and wanted to keep the one with his to himself. 

"It's me saying the little three words," Conan said, tying it around his thin wrist. He tried not to be bothered by it. "Would you tie this?"

Heath nodded, fumbling with the knot at first but then tying it around his wrist. 

"I want you to keep it with yourself at all times," Conan said, hoping he wasn't asking for too much. "Do you like it?"

"Could you get any more perfect?" he asked, staring at the one with yellow string at his own wrist. 

Conan laughed and kissed him, feeling the sweetness of the kiss all over his body.