they wish they were us | conan gray

10. seventy five kids

So the date had been a joke turned misunderstanding. The information came with it's own setback. It meant that in no way were the jokes he made with Noah, serious. At least to the other boy. 

Conan has done his share of research on autism. Noah's heightened super active senses, obsessions, how he sometimes abruptly cuts off other people made sense to him after reading through a few articles. To his slight disappointment, it also meant Noah wouldn't be making the first move. It didn't bother Conan at first but now with the Gus situation, it's worrisome. 

Their group chat has been blasting all day. His friends are predictable and that's what makes him worry more. Caroline is defending Noah with all her might, posting screenshots from websites and explaining that technically it was no one's fault. Gus is miserable and Conan has just shared his heartbreak playlist's link to him. Ellie is silent but is occassionally stating blatant facts as evidence. Ashley is...she doesn't give a shit but to cheer up Gus, she's diverting topics. 

He doesn't know how to explain Gus that he feels what he is going through. He'd been an empty shell, a soulless creature yesterday. 

His phone dings and it's embarrassing because his notification tone is him and Noah giggling and screaming into his voice recorder. Noah wanted to hear his song notes but then said Conan's laugh was enough of a song. Conan had rolled his eyes which was an accurate representation of the movements his heart had been making. 

Something shapeless behind his door falls with a soft thump. Conan peeks out of the corner of his eye to see Noah's yellow jacket he'd accidently left at school. One of these days he'll return it to him. He's coming over soon anyways. 

He blushes at how this could be a moment between them, returning the jacket. He wonders if Noah's heightened sense of smell will make him notice if Conan had sniffed the jacket for his scent and it's fading. The only reason he'll be returning it is because it doesn't smell like coffee beans, or the soil after first rain. 

He leaves his room and finds his mother working with the plants in the yard. He'll be sure to give her tips later. He makes a mental note in his head to water the lillies. Those babies are dry as fuck. He's here for something only she can tell him. 

"What do you want?" she asks, glancing at him. She ties back her hair to prevent it from sticking to her neck and getting it dirty while working in the sand. 

"Maybe, I am here to help my sweet mother," he chirps. She rolls her eyes with a smirk. A kiss his pressed to his forehead and her hands are wiped on the back of his shirt. He cringes, wiggling out her grasp. 

"Now, what do you want, sugar?" she says as Conan hands her a pair of clean gloves. She waves in negation. Conan decides to maintain distance, mostly with her dirty hands. She raises a brow and glances at the sun. Conan immediately gets that his mother has very less time frame to answer his question. "Fast please. If it's about money, I am sorry but-"

"Nah," he cuts her with a sense of urgency. "Um, you said yesterday that we were there when Noah's dad shoved him...."

It's been buzzing around in his mind, floating back to his thinking and raising more questions about what had exactly happened that day. He doesn't know what he really wants. All he knows is that story has made him extremely downcast and now he wants to know more. 

"Well, it just happened. Hiroshi was a little violent or you could say he took his frustration out on his son a lot. Not just his son, his son was his physical target. Other people?" she trades the gardening tools, "He was verbally brash with strangers or neighbors. He never resolved his own trauma and when you do that, you end up lashing out on people who are close to you. Noah needed him. The more lovable he would try to be, the less he loved him."