𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. | conan gray

𝟐𝟒. | comfort

i'm curled up on conan's couch, wrapped in a blanket he tossed over me before slipping into the kitchen. there's a soft hum of sound from the tv where he's put on some rom-com, probably for my sake. it's silly and predictable, but somehow, it's exactly what i need.

still, it feels weird, watching a rom-com without el. that's kind of our thing, and just thinking about her brings everything back up again.

honestly, i don't even know how i feel about her right now. i'm mad, frustrated about how we keep having the same fight over and over. but i also feel guilty, because she's sort of right about conan. i can't deny how much time i've been spending with him lately. maybe even more than with her, which is ironic, considering we live together. i can't blame her for feeling left out. i'd probably feel the same way if things were reversed.

but i do blame her for the way she brings it up—only when she's drunk. she knows how i feel about drinking, especially after everything with my dad, but it's like she just doesn't care lately. it's not that i expect her to never drink; she's an adult, and i drink sometimes too. but she always gets so emotional, like she's trying to drown her problems but ends up making things worse. eventually, all those bottled-up emotions get poured out on me.

and the worst part—the part i won't even admit to myself—is that sometimes i see these patterns in her that remind me of my dad. how they both seem to pour their problems on me when they drink, and suddenly, it's like i'm back there, dealing with someone else's mess.

i hate even thinking that, because my dad was just... an abusive asshole who couldn't handle anything. el's nothing like him; she's supportive, she's loving. she's done so much for me—she got me out of his place, made me feel safe, loved.

but when she drinks, she changes. it's exhausting, and honestly, i don't know how much more of it i can take.

conan comes back with two bowls of ice cream, snapping me out of my thoughts, and i laugh as he hands one to me. "midnight ice cream? aren't we rebels."

he grins, settling next to me and, without asking, scoots under the blanket too, wrapping part of it over his lap. i feel the warmth of his skin against mine, a comforting heat that washes over me. "if i'm not breaking at least one rule a day, am i really living?" he says with a smirk.

i shake my head, but his closeness feels comforting, pulling a genuine smile to my lips. i take a bite of the ice cream, wincing as the cold hits my teeth, and i feel myself instinctively huddle closer. conan catches it and just nudges me playfully with his shoulder.

"come on, toughen up. it's just ice cream," he teases, and i stick my tongue out at him.

"you say that because you eat it in, like, two seconds. you barely taste it!"

"it's called enjoying life, amy," he says, mock-seriously, which just makes me laugh. for a second, the heavy, complicated mess of everything else falls away. with conan, i don't have to explain myself. i just... exist, and it feels so good.

after a while, he glances at me, something softer in his eyes. "you feeling any better?"

i nod, taking a deep breath. "yeah. actually... yeah. thanks for this."

"of course" he says, smiling warmly. "we're friends. that's what friends do."

his words make something twist in my chest, and i look down, swirling the melting ice cream in my bowl. "i'm really grateful for you, cone. sometimes... i don't know what i'd do without you."

he doesn't say anything right away, and for a moment, i worry i've said too much. but then he nudges me gently with his shoulder again. "well, good thing you don't have to find out, right?"

i smile, leaning into him a bit, letting his presence ground me. with el, everything feels tangled right now, confusing and raw. but with conan... it's simple. safe.

"remember when we first met?" i ask softly, the memory flickering up unexpectedly. "you were so awkward."

he lets out a dramatic groan, covering his face with his hand. "oh god, don't remind me. i still can't believe you stuck around after that."

"i don't know, you kind of grew on me," i tease. "like a strange little plant. or maybe a fungus."

he snorts, shaking his head. "wow, amy. what an honor. that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

we fall into easy laughter again, and i can feel the weight on my shoulders lifting. maybe it's temporary, maybe everything will come crashing back in when i step outside his door, but right now, i don't care. right now, i feel okay. maybe even happy.

we sit there for a long time, not really talking, just existing in the same space. and for the first time in a while, i don't feel like i have to be anywhere else or anyone else. i don't feel like i have to have answers or explain myself or fix anything.