Sequins and Somersaults: A Conan Gray Fic

Spit, Flips, and Almost Lips

"C-Conan, w-wait up!" I stammer out, running at a much slower pace than Conan. My legs are not used to this exercise, and they are far weaker than Conan's toned, muscular, beautifu-

"We are almost there," Conan yells over his shoulder, curly hair hitting his sharp jawline. "Just a few more feet."

We run for about ten more feet, before breaking out of the woods we had been in, to a small clearing with a lake. I can already feel welts forming on my skin from all the twigs that hit me, but as I watch Conan drop to the ground, one of his beautiful arms covering his even more beautiful face, I know the light twenty mile jog was worth it.

I sit down gently next to Conan, picking at my leggings. I am not sure what to say, as he sits up and peers at the lake, the moonlight shimmering off of his red leotard. I am only about two feet away from him, the closest we have ever been since meeting (even though we only met a few hours ago). I stare at his sweat-covered features, longing to lean in just a little closer. His gaze transfixed on the water, he inches his fingers toward mine, slowly, one at a time, and my heart threatens to explode. Within seconds, our hands are interlocked, and I swear nothing could be more perfect.

He tears his gaze away from the lake, raises my hand to his lips, and spits directly into my hand. I yank away, shocked. Alarmed, he stares back at me before speaking.

"Natural bug repellent. I expected a "thank you", not a "yank-away-you..." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence, as he realizes what little sense he is making. He then aggressively spits into his own hands, rubbing them together.

"Where did you even hear that?" I ask. "That spit is...natural bug repellent?"

"It's my own survival tip that I made, in case I ever get lost when going to the lake with my friend, Ashley."

My insides squirm at the mention of another girl's name, but I do my best to look calm, and try to move on. I change the subject.

"It's pretty out here," I sigh.

"Yeah, it is. My mom used to bring me here as a kid."

My heart thumps a bit at the mention of baby Conan. "Aw, really?"

"No." Conan picks up a rock and hurls it into the water.

Oh.

"So...why did you bring me here?"

Conan does not immediately answer. Instead, he stands up and walks behind me, twigs jutting out of his leotard from our run. He looks back over his shoulder at me, winks, and my pulse increases so much and so fast that I am surprised I don't literally explode. Conan then does thirty-eight backflips, until he has landed right next to me again.

Sitting down, he says, "Does that answer your question?"

I am even more confused than I was initially, but I just can't bring myself to care. I weakly shake my head "yes", throat suddenly dry.

"And plus," Conan continues. "You're my student. I need to get to know you. You are basically my clay, but I need to know you in order to know how to mold you." He pulls a hoagie from his leotard and takes a giant bite, mayo running down his chin. As if he had forgotten I was there, he looks up from his hoagie and jumps. "Want a bite?" He asks, before taking another bite.

Feeling deflated, I shake my head "no." This whole time I had thought he felt the same way about me that I did about him. Apparently it was all in my head, though. He would only ever view me as his "student". Just another person to practice his teaching on. Just another person who he would make twist, and jump, and flip.

If that were the case, fine. Then I would only view Conan as my instructor; nothing more. I swallow down my feelings at the same time that Conan swallows down the other half of the hoagie. He wipes his arm across his mouth, throws a rock from inside his leotard into the lake, and takes off running.

Blinking back tears, I get up and begin running after him. "Guess it's time to go home."