4.
Conan's hands began to sweat at Owen's offer. He wasn't too fond of the idea because he hated inconveniencing people, but it didn't seem like he really had any other option.
"What about practice?" he asked, playing with the ends of his sleeves nervously.
"It's just about over now anyway." Owen nudged him to follow him back onto the field. "If you wait five minutes for me to wrap up and change then I can drive you right home after."
Before Conan could respond he had already run back over to the other guys. He watched the way the sun glinted off of his flawlessly tanned skin, his muscles shifting as he moved. His blatant staring went unnoticed as the session wrapped up and all the players ran into the locker room to change before going home.
The crowd eventually dispersed as Conan retrieved his belongings from where he had flung them onto the grass. He wiped some dirt off of his new backpack with a grimace.
"Hey, you ready?" Owen's loud voice startled Conan who resisted the urge to flinch. He was doing his best to seem chill, to come across indifferent like every other guy would.
He deepened his voice and squared out his shoulders a little. "Yeah."
"Okay cool." Owen grinned at him and nodded toward the parking lot. "How's the school been treating you?"
The two walked side by side, Conan feeling nervous while Owen babbled on about anything that popped into his mind. He was a bit of a talker.
"I remember my first day," he reminisced., "I wet myself and had to go home to change."
"Excuse me?" Conan laughed, surprised by his bluntness. The boy had no shame.
"What? I was six!" he defended.
"No judgment there. I hate school too," Conan agreed. "Maybe not enough to pee my pants though."
"I'd pee my pants every day if it meant I didn't have to go to this shit hole." Owen sighed and squinted at the big building as if it could respond back to defend its honor.
"Why do you hate it?" Conan knew why he himself didn't like school, but he figured someone like Owen would love it.
In all honesty, Owen hated school because it made him feel stupid. The only good part about it was that he got to play sports after class. If he didn't have football then he wouldn't have been able to get through the years.
"Homework," he lied - well it was only partly a lie - and scrunched his nose up in distaste. "You?"
"Same," Conan mumbled back, expecting a more complex response, something he could relate to. But then again, he was talking to a jock.
The gravel crunches under their shoes as they reach Owen's car. He was a little anxious about Conan seeing his car and thinking he was some stuck-up snobby rich kid.
He had a shiny black Tesla that was absolutely spotless. He was grateful for the vehicle and took pride in it but in situations like these, he got slightly insecure. He liked Conan and didn't want him to see him the way Owen saw his own family.
Though Conan didn't make a single comment, sliding into the passenger's seat when Owen unlocked the door before plugging in his charger.
"My house is down this road for about two miles before taking a left." Conan pointed at the street behind them while buckling up. "I appreciate you doing this for me, by the way."
Another of Owen's signature lopsided smiles showed upon his face, his heartwarming when Conan didn't mention his expensive car. Everyone always made some kind of snide remark or started to treat him entirely different, like they were beneath him just because of his parent's wealth. But not Conan.
"That's what friends are for." Owen steered out of the lot and turned the radio on to play quietly in the background of their conversation in case it got quiet.
"So we're friends now?" Conan replied shyly, twiddling his thumbs together nervously.
"Yup." He glanced at Conan through the corner of his eye with a teasing grin. "What? You don't want to be my friend?"
Owen was just kidding around but Conan really did consider his words and wondered if it would be possible to make a friend. Especially with a guy like Owen. Owen made him tense but he'd have to get over being around testosterone-driven guys eventually. Maybe Owen could be a test run? That's what he told himself.
His voice came out higher than intended so he cleared his throat. "I do. I just haven't really had any friends in a while."
Owen's bubbly personality died down a little at his sad statement. "Why not?"
Conan was hesitant to answer his question. There was no chance of him coming out to Owen, so what was he supposed to say?
Owen noticed the smaller boy's discomfort and spoke up again. "You seem pretty great to me." He shrugged. "They're the ones who missed out."
"I guess that's one way to look at it." Conan snickered bitterly to himself.
"I think you mispronounced the right way," he shot back, bobbing his head back and forth to the beat of the song playing. "Though, as your friend, I might be a bit biased on that."
"Definitely." Conan chuckled under his breath, tilting his head to trail his eyes over the curve of Owen's sharp jawline and the slight stubble starting to grow back over it.
"Tryouts for track are Monday after school in the gym." Owen signaled his left blinker before turning the wheel. "Don't worry about doing super well during practice, I'll write your name down on the team list."
"You're captain of the track team too?" Conan questioned, curious if that was even allowed.
"Yeah," Owen declared proudly, loving talking about his team status. "Coach says I'm a good leader so it doesn't matter if I'm both. Track is a lot easier to lead anyway, the football team is full of idiots, so it's a million times harder."
"Like Duncan?" Conan laughed.
"Just like Duncan." He nodded with a chuckle of his own.
Their laughter died down when they got closer to their destination. Conan's heart hammered in his chest when he saw his parents screaming at Duncan through the kitchen window. His face was red, furious as their dad shouted at him, equally as angry.
Conan slowly took his phone out of his pocket to see the thirty missed calls and eighty unread messages, mostly from a panicking Lillian who automatically assumed Conan was dead in a ditch somewhere.
"Oh shit," Conan groaned and watched his brother throw a temper tantrum through the window. "I should go inside."
Owen's cheeky smile deflated and the thought of Conan leaving replaced it with a frown instead. "I'll see you Monday then I guess."
"Thanks again for the ride." Conan opened the door, gathering his stuff together before hopping out of the car.
"That's what friends are for, remember?" Owen teased, waving at Conan as he closed the side door.
"Yeah." He nodded with slightly flushed cheeks. "Right. Friends."
Owen watched the boy clamber into his home, awkwardly waving one last time before disappearing inside. His eyes trailed over the empty seat for a moment before putting the car in reverse with a tired sigh. He was still slightly sweaty from football practice with his hair messily tousled over his damp forehead.
The second Conan creaked the door open, Lillian was there. She knocked the wind out of him when she tackled him in her embrace.
"Where have you been!" she cried, clutching onto his shoulders while weeping into his neck. "We were so worried about you!"
Their dad, Jon, watched from the corner with his brows furrowed in agitation and arms crossed. He shook his head disapprovingly at Duncan whose ears were practically steaming.
"I was at the school." Conan patted Lillian's back guiltily even though it wasn't his fault. "Someone gave me a ride home."
"Was that Wilson's car?" Duncan glared, ignoring their parents yelling at him.
Conan swallowed thickly and pulled away from Lillian. Her face was red and wet with tears. She might've looked dramatic, but to her, the situation was much more serious than either of his sons was acting. It gave her trauma from the last time Conan was missing and not responding to any texts. That day was a nightmare for everyone involved.
"Go to your room!" Jon roared at Duncan who flinched from his voice booming across the room. He had left work early after Lillian called him crying something about Conan being missing.
"You haven't even listened to what I have to say!" Duncan screamed back, glaring back at Jon with his chest heaving.
They looked like mirror images of each other. Jon was only slightly taller and bulky with greying hair. Other than that, they had the same look of rage with clenched fists and mouths ready to spew hatred.
"Give me your phone!" Jon snatched his phone out of Duncan's pocket before he could push him away.
"That's not fair!" he shouted back, pure fury sprouting through his body.
He had had enough. First Conan ruins his senior year, then Conan steals his spot on the football team, and now this. Everyone had a breaking point and Duncan was reaching his.
"You're grounded, two weeks." Jon pointed at the stairs. "Go to your room. Now!"
"Screw you," Duncan spat, storming past Jon who was ready to punch his son in the throat. Lillian grabbed his bicep with a knowing look, silently begging him to let her handle the situation.
"Let's all just sit down so you can explain what happened," she requested calmly but Duncan was already shoving his feet into his shoes that were by the front door.
"Duncan, your mother said sit down." Jon gritted his teeth, fed up with his disobedience. This isn't how he raised his children. He used to have a happy, respectful son who wouldn't dare act the way he had been recently.
"I'll be back later," he said plainly and opened the door, stepping outside.
"Duncan, this isn't fair," Lillian pleaded and gripped his shoulder to stop him, but he was fed up too.
"Fair?" He snickered. "You want to know what's not fair, mom? How about ruining my senior year? How about making me leave my girlfriend and all my friends? How about favoring Conan over me? Is that fucking fair?!"
His voice broke at the end and his eyes started to water. He didn't want to cry or seem vulnerable, but he couldn't contain the emotions he had built up inside for so long.
"I-"
"No, you don't get to talk!" he screamed at Conan who tried to interrupt. "I don't give a damn what you have to say! You ruined everything for me!"
Conan, on the other hand, wasn't so strong. Tears freely poured down his face as guilt poured through him. Guilt and fear.
"You're just some stupid tranny!"
"Duncan!" Lillian shrieked in horror at his venomous insult, Conan freezing in his spot.
The slur usually didn't bother him very much. He had been called worse names in his lifetime, so on a regular occasion he wouldn't care, but this was different. This was his brother. His own flesh and blood.
"Go fuck yourself," Conan whispered, bottom lip trembling as another stream of tears spilled down his wet cheeks.
Jon was yelling at Duncan so loudly that some nosy neighbors came out to eavesdrop. Conan didn't bother listening. He just wanted to sleep and forget everything that had happened. He was in a good mood for the first time in months because of Owen, but all of it was ruined in seconds. Nothing could ever just go right for him.
Their car screeched out of their driveway as Duncan left. Jon was ready to hand him his own ass, but Lillian was weeping as well, pulling on his arm so he wouldn't hurt their son.
Conan ran into his room the second his twin had left and collapsed onto his bed, sobbing and curling into himself. His head began to ache, and his eyes stung from the endless tears he couldn't stop.