they wish they were us | conan gray

29. the dead are asleep

Old habits die hard cuz I still believe,

That everyone who has died is basically asleep. 

(a/n: the lyrics are from cade hoppe's morphine. hes a really good and underrated artist)

Conan hugs Ashley to sleep. She doesn't fall into slumber and neither does he. They treat it like an exhausted afternoon nap in which you don't sleep, just stare mindlessly at the ceiling, like a zombie.

She is in one of Conan's hoodies', tossing and turning every few minutes. Hours. Neither knows time. Neither wants to. Conan looks at the string of pictures by her bed, them and their friends over the years. Biking across hard terrains, sitting in kids' swing sets and gossiping, doing homework in the middle of the football ground, birthdays.

After tonight their reality has split into Before and After. They were normal kids doing normal things before reality hit them in the face and cracked the foggy glass that had been protecting them.

"Hey, Ash?" Conan murmurs. He doesn't need a response to know she's awake. "Do you think we've done something wrong? Like we'd go to hell for killing someone?"

"There is no 'we'. I did it. You two didn't." A few beats of silence. "I would do it again if it comes to it. Is that bad? I don't think I am a b-bad person but it hurts so much to know there is blood on my hands."

"I wish I had done something."

"Then get me a glass of water now," she says in a clipped tone. Conan rises from her bed to see how much she sweating and how her wet clothes are clinging to her body. He tosses her another hoodie, hung on the knob of her cupboard.

The glass of water and fresh clothes work like a sleep tonic. The dreams come but so do the nightmares. Conan can't see what she's seeing but he sees a version of them in the way her face contorts into a horrifying look, how her mouth twitches with disgust at night and her constant murmuring.

Conan holds her hand and soothes her through the night.

****

"Oh, hi," Noah's step mom says, the moment the door opens. She doesn't hold it back fully, just gives a view of her face, like she's hiding something behind herself.

Conan gulps a little and offers her a nervous smile which she doesn't return. He had dropped off her son past curfew, accompanied with new trauma and bandaged scars. He'll be lucky if she doesn't sit down and question him about it. Given she doesn't even seem slightly happy to see him, someone who perhaps lights up her son's day, he's definitely not leaving the house in one piece.

"Hi, Mrs...Noah's mom," he says, improvising before his tongue can roll and embarrass him. "Is Noah here?"

"Noah hasn't talked since you dropped him off the day before yesterday," she says and Conan nods, lips thinned into a line, at getting the smack in the face he was expecting. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and Conan suddenly misses Diane and her gentleness with him. "And he showed up with bandages over his thighs and elbow."

"Right," Conan offers her a pained smile. He really should've thought of a good explanation before showing up or asked Noah for the story he had told in case Shelly questioned him. "I am sorry about all the trouble. I just wanted to see if he's fine."

"I don't know if he wants to talk to anyone right now," she says in a condescending way. Conan does kind of deserve it; he thinks. After all, bringing back your boyfriend home with injuries isn't exactly what a parent would call a green flag.

Conan hasn't seen him since the day before yesterday. He'd show up early but Ashley had a horrible day after the incident. She was constantly checking the local news outlets and flinching at the smallest of movements. They drove around for a bit and he swears she went white as a sheet when they passed the local bar.