Author's Note: 'The Other Side' is now my favorite Conan Gray song. I made you wait long enough.
Even before I was writing the story and just had like a gist of it, I knew Heather had to be a boy. I am not saying Conan is queer. I feel like when the characters are of the same sex, their emotions get more complex. A reader attacked me and said I am labelling Conan. I have never written anything about his sexuality. Please be respectful and nice.
I don't like it when people go full hoe crazy over something so petty. I have NEVER labelled Conan. I will NOT label him. There are many fanfictions of Conan with random girls called mostly y/n, those authors are labelling him as straight too. Just because I want to write him with Heathcliff, it's a big thing. Fanfiction writers are not labelling the people they are writing fanfictions about, it's fiction, for fuck's sake.
"It's just that I am a social bird, Ashley," Conan mused proudly over his phone, as he twirled a stray lock of curly brown over the width of his index finger, "Of course, I can read people easily. It's nothing special."
"Is it so, princess?" she said. "The last time you met a new person you could read easily, you were falling for them."
"Ugh, it's in the past. Besides, they rejected me," he said defeatedly.
"It's common thread between people you like." she said firmly and Conan laughed at the bittersweet memories of unrequited love.
"I think it's special." Ashley said and Conan heard the faint rustling of sheets on the other side. She was still in bed, probably wearing her dark blue pajamas.
"All of my acquaintances are special to me." Conan pointed out placidly.
"Am I an acquaintance too? A special acquainta-nce?" Ashley asked, laughing a little at Conan's stubborness.
"No, you have qualified as my beautiful best friend." Conan rolled towards the foot of the bed smoothly and stared at the cream carpet that spanned against the wooden floorboard. He placed his hand and caressed it's softness.
"I think we should unfriend each other." she said and her friend laughed.
"We are bad enough for ourselves," Conan said, adding to it.
"Ever since you started writing bad emotional songs about me, I have wanted to unfriend you. This hurt that I holding is getting heavy, but I am keep a smile-"
"EWW!" He laughed in hysterics, his teeth springing out and his gums exposed. His face reddened and his dolphin laugh was now loud. "That was terrible! You sound like a dying manatee!"
"Said the guy with the dolphin laugh," she snorted.
"Said the girl who sings and causes earthquakes," he said.
"Would you mind moving, Rock-Star Princess?" Kyle asked, glaring into Conan's eyes, burning holes into them. Conan could swear upon his life that Kyle was extra rude to him for no reason. Kyle was cocky and rude but he always targeted Conan for no reason. From dumping soup on his head from his window to charging extra for deliveries to him, he left no chance to irritate Conan. Conan wondered sometimes, what he had done to him to receive such a treatment from him.
Conan held up his hands in surrender and moved out of his way pressing himself against the wall.
"Your boyfriend passed by me , a looker that one," Kyle commented, looking at him.
"We're not dating," Conan fumed.
"Oh yeah," Kyle said, sounding really sorry and confused, "No one wants to take the trash out, do they?"
"Whatever, Kyle."
"How the truth hurts, Rock Star Princess..." he said and walked up the stairs so slowly that Conan almost thought that time affected him differently than it did him. Kyle's fluid motions and grace were charming, too bad his personality was full of shit. The boy was sure that Kyle was the most unlikeable person he had ever met. Something burned inside his chest, the urge to spit back a few insults with an angry expression slapped across his own face. How dare he say that? Conan would never like Heather, would he? How dare he compare them both and call Conan the ugly one? Kyle had always targeted him but he had never really hit the sensitive points. Today Kyle had got himself knee deep in some shit.
Fight or flight?
"Considering that and your personality, your mom must be lounging in a hospital by now, stuffing herself with painkillers, huh?" The boy with the curly hair spat.
Kyle looked at him, a deep red blush of abashment slowly flooding through his veins. His fists clenched, veins throbbing. Conan regretted reacting a little. What if Kyle punched him? He wasn't muscular and Kyle was...way stronger.
"So you do have a voice, Princess? That's something. I would very fucking humbly suggest that you use your tongue to charm the street rats, someone whom you actually have a chance with."
"I don't date people like you," Conan said, sweetly, though his words were a tsunami of bitterness and resentment, "You don't have to be so forward with me. In fact," he said ecstatically, "I will reject you just now: FUCK NO!"
"I can believe how thick you head has gotten, Rock Star Princess," he spat, jabbing a finger at him and laughing like a maniac. "I am nothing like you crazy faggots. You faggot don't deserve your fan base. I can only hope that someone will shut you up forever so god can-"
Kyle couldn't complete his sentence because he was punched in the jaw. He fell to the side of railings of the stairs, gaining his balance. Blood was splattered across the walls of the building, thick and warm, the scent of fury and the essence of deep hidden scars, fresh and opened.