Drabbles N One-shots

Conan's Lie

Oh my gosh I should've posted this one first what the heck khgdkhjdsg. I'm actually... relatively proud of this one, though of course I'm super open to (constructive) criticism. The goal with this oneshot was to see if I could weave a character's background into a conflict, if that makes sense. Or like, write a character's background as a conflict.

Conan has a really long and complicated history, which makes her relationship with Rame extremely complicated. A reminder: they are not supposed to have a perfect relationship, and I try to write them as humanely as I can-- meaning they make mistakes and all that other shit. Conan is an especially flawed Main Character, which is half of the point. Anyways! Hope you enjoy !

Tw: Swearing, poor coping mechanism, cognitive distortions, descriptions of guilt and loss, and at the end I think there's breakfast but they don't eat anything.

As always feel free to let me know if there's anything else ! 

 Conan wasn't sure why she didn't tell her.

There were a lot of reasons, a lot of lies, that she told herself. Not that she would readily admit that. There was guilt in that thought. Pain.

Yes, she had to tell her, but could she?

Bearing that path to her, reliving it all, tearing her soul from her body in offering. It would be in vain; a real reason for Rame to recoil from her in disgust and hurt. Conan had lied. Maybe not directly, but she didn't tell her, and that was enough.

Still, she had to tell her. She knew she did. It was like a countdown, that guilt that pooled into her gut. It gurgled during the quiet of the night, screaming for the attention Conan didn't want to give it. When she didn't, it would eventually leave, and sink back to whatever dark place it had crept from.

That thought alone should have made the inevitable obvious. After all it was only a matter of time before it happened; before it built up like a black sludge, poisoning her insides until it all just came pouring out, violent sob by violent sob. Conan had never been one for letting guilt lead to results, but this was different. This was Rame for fucks sake! The only being in the whole of the universe who'd never looked at her without that... that fear she could feel in everyone else who caught her eye.

Still, she stayed quiet, and as the unavoidable would call for, the guilt did build. It built until Conan couldn't bear to lay next to her at night. She had never watched Rame sleep a whole night, because that was creepy. Conan always had other things she could do while Rame slept, of course. So, even if laying by her side had been a comfort when they had first gotten together, Conan stopped. It wasn't a comfort anymore, and was instead just an excuse to let that bile build in her gut, threatening to spill unless Conan left. Unless she did something else.

It got to the point where Conan started moping for crying out loud. Instead of their usually vibrant red, her eyes were a dull and stormy grey. Every time she wandered around their apartment it was aimless and without care. Her quiet steps would stop in front of her favorite bookcase, filled with its oddities and treasures from lifetimes ago, and she would stare. Every item had its story, like the coins from a civilization long lost to this world, or the book from her home planet, given to her as a gift when she was small. It had been one of the only things her father would have had left of their home planet, since he would never be allowed back. Just like Conan was never allowed back with him.

On the bookshelf was also that horrid wrist device. Honestly, she wasn't sure why it was sitting there in the first place. Every time she so much as glanced at it she wanted to break it further. Knowing what it was capable of, yet entirely unable to do. It was the reason for any of her pain in the first place. She wanted to kill someone. The device was never the problem. Conan didn't know how to fix her problem. She wanted to cry.