𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. | conan gray

𝟎𝟑. | reunion

the morning light seeps through the curtains, casting a soft glow on my messy desk. i'm hunched over the laptop, tapping away at the keyboard, trying to wrap up the article about that indie band for the new york tunes. my head's pounding a little, a reminder of last night's "cozy evening".

but what's even worse: conan's face keeps barging into my head, interrupting my lame attempts to get work done.

i've been avoiding anything related to him for ages, but now it feels like he's set up camp in my brain. scenes play out in my head – what i could say when i see him again, what he might say, and how the past might decide to mess with me.

in a pathetic bid to regain control, i pound the keys harder. but my fingers betray me, steering the browser toward a conan gray search. i'm glued to the screen, devouring every piece of info i've successfully ignored.

i stumble upon a recent interview where conan talks about his struggles in the music industry – a topic he never bothered to share with me. clicking on the link, conan's face pops up.

ugh. he's so damn fine.

"focus, amy," i mutter to myself, closing my eyes for a second before diving into the article.

conan talks about the drama with his old management, not going into too much detail. he mentions things happened in his personal life that he couldn't fully control because of them. my eyebrows furrow as i read his statements.

"so, my old management had this brilliant idea. they didn't want me to date anyone."

excuse me, what?

"apparently, it's bad for my 'image.' i mean, i write songs like 'people watching,' and it's pretty clear i'm single as heck. but no, that wasn't enough. they told me to keep up the charade for the sake of my 'marketability.'" he acknowledges the irony, "because, you know, my songs totally don't hint at my relationship status."

this is ridiculous. also, i didn't realize how much i forgot about his sarcastic side. el actually uses this kind of humor as a shield too. how did i miss this connection?

he continues, "i was speechless, honestly. like, here i am, pouring my soul into songs that scream 'single,' and they still wanted more. getting rid of them crossed my mind, of course, but turns out, it's not that easy. so, i had to play along, for a while."

i can't help but sit there, jaw slightly agape. "what the fuck," echoes in my mind. how did i not know any of this?

when the interviewer probes about how this impacted his personal life, conan's demeanor shifts. he becomes reserved, choosing his words carefully. "well, you know, stuff happened. things i couldn't control fully. let's just say, it got messy, and not the fun kind of messy."

it leaves me hanging, craving more details. but conan, ever the master of masking depth with nonchalance, doesn't elaborate further. my confusion deepens. he's let me glimpse into his struggles, but the full picture remains elusive.

this infuriates me. i find it hard to believe that his management would treat him this way. at the same time, i'm upset with him for not telling me anything about it. why would he fucking hide this from me?

as i sit there, the central park plan and its supposed distraction feel like a million miles away. the article leaves me with more questions than answers, and the past becomes an even murkier mess.

grappling with a mix of anger and confusion, a knock on the bedroom door disrupts my obsessive research. i swivel, and there's el, looking like she lost a boxing match with a hangover. she fell asleep on the sofa last night and i didn't want to wake her up. i give her a half-smile, "morning."