LOVER || conrad fisher x reader

new.

You get used to the sounds that Conrad makes when he's asleep. You remember the offer you gave him the first day back—allowing him to crawl into bed next to you if he needs to— but you don't expect him to do it, even if he had the most severe back pain.

You dream differently in Cousins. When usually your dreams are a wonderland of scenes spliced together from places that you don't recognise, with people you can't remember when you wake up, dreaming on Conrad's pillows changes how your brain works; your dreams are all set here, in Cousins, in this house.

Sometimes, everyone is there. Sometimes, you're alone. Mostly, Susannah is in them.

She makes brownies in the kitchen and laughs with you over a glass of wine. She paints outside on the patio, at the dock, down the beach. She laughs with Laurel, holds her boys, takes off her wedding ring strongly and throws it into the ocean.

One evening, you dream like normal—about Cousins, about the house—but it's not happy.

It's a nightmare.

You're sixteen again, hair shorter and limbs lankier with no sign of boobs or curves or anything of the sort yet. It's back when Conrad still wears glasses and Belly has her braces. The sun sets on the horizon, as you look out of the window in the kitchen at the blissful scene outside; the Conklin's' and the Fisher's in the backyard, laughing, together, happy.

You're stuck inside, though, and upstairs a ruckus is occurring. Your parents scream at each other until you hear their voices break, their throats raw. They've been fighting for years; you don't remember a time when they weren't; but this was different.

This was lethal. This signified the end of their already crumbling marriage.

The pitter patter of your bare feet across the floorboards echoes throughout the empty house until you're under the hallway archway, stood before the front door and by the stairs. You peer up the stairs, eyes glassy and close to overflowing.

Your mother screams. Your father shouts.

Make it stop!

And then there's silence. You pray that they've had enough.

Time slows when they both appear at the top of the stairs, bags in hand, including your own. They rush down the stairs in slow motion, rage fuelled faces and anger deep rooted within both of their once soft demeaners.

You yell Conrad's name before they reach the bottom. He comes racing into the house, followed by everyone. They stand silently as time reverts to normal, and then you gasp when your mother grabs you by the shoulders.

"Get in the car, we're leaving," she says, seething.

"What?" is all you can croak. Your father drops down by you next, shoving your hastily packed bag into your arms.

"Do as you're told," he exclaims. It makes you jump. It makes Conrad flinch. He steps forward once, but Susannah holds him back. It's not their place to intervene. You knew that now.

Without any warning, you're pushed out the front door. Your mother takes hold of your wrist, dragging you towards their old car. That's when you finally realise what is happening; they're taking you away; away from Cousins; away from the families; away from Conrad Fisher.

You scream, clawing at your mother to let go of you. You don't hear properly, it's a mixture of your voice then, your voice now, your voice two years ago when Conrad called you up again after three fucking years, but you know exactly what you're saying—

Don't take me away from him!

You're thrown into the car, the door locking as soon as it's slammed shut. You smack the window so hard you're sure you might break it, but it doesn't budge. You cry and wail and whack it until your fists and knuckles are bloody and raw.