Thirium Heart//Reed900

Working Out How This Relationship Will Work, Exactly Ft. Conan's Growth (21)

"I missed you, Conan."

...

Gavin got home that night and Conan was nowhere to be seen. The entire house was clean, the cats were fed and hell, even the yard was weeded.

"Conan?" Gavin called. No response. "Conan? Conan!" He walked around the house. "CONAN!" There was no note, as far as Gavin could see. There was a clatter, then Conan emerged from a door in the hallway.

"I didn't know you had a basement," he smiled sheepishly. Gavin exhaled.

"You scared the shit out of me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Conan's eyes drifted to the floor.

"Hey, it's okay. I was just worried, is all." Gavin reached out and awkwardly placed his hand on Conan's shoulder.

"I'm really sorry. About everything."

"Why? What in the hell do you have to be sorry about?"

"I died, Gavin. I died and I left you. I was supposed to be here for you! Always! I left you and I hurt you. You should hate me." Gavin snapped his hand back, stepping away.

"Hate you? What the hell are you on about?" He furrowed his brow.

"I'm so, so guilty Gavin. Seeing everything that happened, seeing what I did to you, it almost makes me wish..."

"Makes you wish what, plastic?" Gavin felt the anger rise in him again.

"That I had stayed dead, Gavin! Seeing you like this and knowing that I did this to you is killing me all over again!" Conan clenched his fists.

"You know what, asshole? You don't get to phcking put me through all that and then wish you didn't have to see it." Gavin started shaking. "Yeah, YOU phcking died. YOU phcking left me. YOU hurt all of us, and YOU don't want to deal with the aftermath?! Don't you realise how phcking selfish that is?"

Conan stuttered and stammered, trying to come up with something, anything.

"Are you going to phcking say anything?" Gavin growled. "Are you going to show some phcking emotion for once in your shitty, shitty life?" Conan's eyes widened, awestruck. But his shitty robot face remained as neutral as it always was.

"I can't believe you, " Gavin's voice steadied. "You made your own goddamn choice and we all had to live with it." He shook his head. "I need a smoke."

Gavin yanked his pack of cigs and lighter from his jacket, shoved Conan out of the way, and stormed out the front door.

"Stop! Gavin please-" Conan called, reaching out. Gavin didn't look back.

What a fuckin asshole, Gavin thought, lighting up. I can't believe him. He looked around at his little run-down neighborhood and wondered how many people had suffered as he had. How many had had everyone they ever loved ripped from their lives? How many had dickweed brothers that are always too busy for them?

Gavin flicked the ash off his cig, taking another drag. He heard the front door open.

"Phck off, tin can. I'm busy." He blew smoke in Conan's face, knowing it would piss him off. Conan flicked the cancer stick out of the meat sack's mouth and stepped on it.

"What the hell?" Gavin clenched his fists, resisting the urge to swing at him.

"I know what you want to do, Detective," the plastic prick spat, "And I'd advise against it if you value your skeletal integrity." Gavin met Conan's eyes, expecting them to be the harsh, steely grey that they always were when he was silently pissed.