"What did you tell your grams?" Heath asked, not looking up from his sketch book. He was making a comic, Micah assumed since he was drawing boxes all over the page and speech bubbles. She had read some of them on his ipad. The drawings were cute but the story was lousy.
"I told her I would be with a friend," she shrugged, not caring whether it was convincing or not. "She was cool with it. She thinks I won't talk to you again."
"She is delusional," Heath said, erasing something on the sheet.
"She is a bitch," Micah said without hesitation and Heath looked up as if he agreed but he couldn't believe she had just said that to her own grandma. "Men can't fuck men, women can't fuck women. Like, yes they can grams. Would you like me to show you?"
Heath laughed, his eyes glimmering with carefreeness.
"So, did you show her?" he asked, grinning. Lim realized that what she had said could go two ways.
"Shut up," she said, grabbing a pillow and brandishing it like a weapon. "Ugh, I wish she would stop her bullshit. She asked if I was supporting you because I am gay."
"Are you gay?"
"Not really," she said, placing the pillow on her lap. "Are you gay?"
"Very much," he said smugly. "Does this look nice?"
He showed Micah the drawing. It wasn't a comic but small drawings of him in boxes. It was caricatures of Conan playing a guitar, Conan holding a cute puppy, Conan smiling, Conan wearing a skirt and Conan dressed in a tree costume. In the last one, Conan was giving some boy dark-haired boy a cheek kiss who was melting because of it. It was so cute that she almost cried because her heart hurt.
"How come you never make these things for me?" she choked out. The detailing clearly wasn't done but those rough strokes made it look cuter.
"Do you want me to?" he asked, putting his sketch book and other stationery on the side table but she grabbed the book.
"Yes, these things are adorable," she said, holding the sketchbook for herself. "I am gonna die!"
Heath smiled, probably happy that it was validated by his friend. Micah stroked the pages once with her feather light touch. They were everything she wanted in life. Yet, she couldn't have it.
"Which one do you think I should redraw?" he asked. "I was thinking I could get it printed on some shirt or pillow cover or something."
"I really like the one with the puppy and the one with you," Micah said, unable to decide which she liked best. "Redraw both and then send me."
"Sure," he said and she handed him the sketch book.
"Is this gonna be your one month anniversary gift?" She wondered out loud and calculated. It would be six days after Conan came back. "Because if you get Conan this, he should marry you because this so thoughtful."
Heath turned crimson at the last sentence and gave her a bright look. "Yeah, I think I should propose."
"Wait-really?" Micah said, giving him a baffling look.
"No," he shook his head lightly, "Of course not."
"Because at that rate you two will adopt by the end of the year," Micah reflected. Heath guffawed at the remark. "You two are so adorable to look at that my heart hurts."
"We are?"
"Yes," she said firmly, feeling a rush of affection for them, "Conan is so in love with you that it makes me want to puke. He looks at you like you are the sun and all he had ever known was dark."
"Nice analogy," Heath said, elated. "Food?"
You should eat, she thought. Why this so hard?
"Yeah, what do you have?" She blinked.
"I have ingredients for fried chicken or maybe something healthier, like salad," Heath said thoughtfully. "I don't even feel like eating but I will pitch in." Heath laughed, closing his book.
"Why do you not feel like eating?" she asked, trying to sound non-chalant. In her opinion it came off as a little urging but Heath didn't seem to notice.
"You know what, I feel like eating now," he shrugged.
Micah stared at her friend's back as he walked to his bedroom. He didn't exactly look weak. To someone who hadn't seen him before, he would look normal. They would assume he had always been that skinny but to Micah who had known him for three years, he looked like he had lost a of weight. The bones in his back and collarbone were were visible more. His hands looked weak as if they were just bones with a thin layer of muscle and skin.
"Your CAD teacher resigned," Micah lied, forming a story in her head. "She got a pretty bad eating disorder."
"She did?" Heath said, returning. He had put on a sweater which made Micah want to cry. People with Nervosa felt cold. "That's sad. I really liked her. What was she diagnosed with?"
"Anorexia Nervosa," Micah said. "She ate so less. Like skipped meals whenever she could, was always self conscious of her body. The usual."
"Oh, that's sad," Heath said, though he didn't seem sad but mocking. Mocking her. "So, when are you gonna tell me you found out?"
Micah looked at him in confusion, wondering what he was talking about. Slowly, it came to her, the realization. Heath knew he had Anorexia Nervosa. And had he been hiding that?
"Two days ago," Micah said sourly. "You knew?"
"I got my diagnosis results yesterday," Heath said, smiling sadly as he sat down next to her. "I had told my therapist I was struggling with food and he suggested me to get it checked. I have had it for at least two months."
"You're okay, right?" she prompted and he nodded quickly as if to say there wasn't any problem.
"I am okay, I promise," he said and he did seem okay. Or maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her because she had enough things to worry about. "I have antidepressants and other stuff to control it."
"Do you make yourself throw up after you eat?" she asked, feeling the bile rise to her throat. Just thinking about puke made her want to puke.
"No," Heath said, shaking his head in disgust, "I didn't reach that part, thankfully. My therapist said going back home was too overwhelming for me and then- Nothing."
"I am never letting you go back to that goddamned town," Micah said, holding his hand. "How does it feel to have anorexia nervosa?"
"It feels like I am mocking myself every time I look into a mirror. It's like not matter what I do, I won't be desirable enough because I am always too this, too that."
"When are gonna tell Conan?" she exhaled. "He knows you have it. He told me two days ago."
"He does?" Heath said in a surprised tone, his voice wavering. "I will tell him today."
"Sometimes I eat because I remember I don't want to get weaker. Other times I can't because-because I just can't," Heath said and Conan stared at him intently, his hair falling on his face like a waterfall.
"Will you be okay?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. His eyes glinted with care.
"I will be fine," Heath assured. "I wasn't into that for long and I had two meals in a row."
Conan smiled sadly and Heath gave his best reassuring look. "I miss you."
"I miss you too," Heath said, wanting to kiss him. "How were your shows?"
"Two people tried to sneak in. People left me adorable fanart. People showed up and one fan freaked out when she saw you as my wallpaper," Conan said and Heath could find himself genuinely smiling after days. "She said you were cute and I corrected her saying you were hotter than the sun."
"Am I your shameless flirting charm?" Heath smiled and Conan laughed like a dolphin.
"Yes, you are," Conan said finally. "I banged my head on one of the speakers too."
"Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching out and then realizing that he he wasn't physically present. It was just facetime.
"It hurts so much," Conan said, massaging the left side of his forehead. "I can still feel it vibrating. Can you kiss it better when I am home?"
"Of course," Heath smiled. "Tomorrow."
"What have you been doing?" Conan asked curiously.
"Just the usual, trying to eat, therapy, work, ordering fabrics and missing you every fucking second," Heath sighed, his brows knitted.
"Why can't it be tomorrow already?" he said wearily.
"You seem sleepy," he said, staring at his droopy eyelids with dark circles around them. "Go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow, Cone."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something," Conan said, clearing his throat. The charming smile had disappeared from his face, taken over by seriousness. "I should come right out and say it, I think. There's no point in beating around the bush." He paused and glanced at him, wanting to take in his reaction perhaps. Heath didn't look troubled the least bit as if he knew what he was going to say and was prepared.
"You've been meeting your dad, right?" he said and Heath felt his insides squirm. He knew, of course he knew.
"Did someone tell you?" Heath asked and Conan nodded, not opening his mouth. "I-Yes, but not because I wanted to. Julian's sister, Frieda, wanted me to talk to him, somehow get him to tell me why he would murder him."
"I would like it if you didn't meet him, again," Conan said, not authoritatively but because he cared. Heath nodded, slumping his head on the pillow.
"I won't," Heath said, raising his head. Conan looked like huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I-He-I just won't. I didn't visit him because I wanted to. He told Frieda he would only talk to me. I think I owed her that much."
"Was is difficult?" he asked softly, waiting for a response which came a few seconds late.
"It was but I don't think he got to me as much as I expected him to." He paused for a second as if collecting his words and thoughts and stringing together the next sentence. "I hope he dies."
Conan looked speechless, his eyes widening a little when Heath finished his sentence. Heath knew what he was thinking, someone as gentle as him saying those words meant that man really was fucked up. Heath didn't feel anything when he said that. The silence that came with truth is never felt but people know it's there.
Conan shook his head and said, "I hope he changes."