Happy Conan Gray day! This is a short story I wrote last year around his song so enjoyyy (you can also find it on wattpd and ao3 @ namelesspeach)
„I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater
You said it looked better on me than it did you
Only if you knew, how much I liked you"
I guess this is what happiness feels like. As a child I used to watch those cheesy 80s romance movies with my mom and I would dream of having a romance like that. Holding hands in the cold weather, warming each other up with only a gaze.
He gave me his sweater this morning. It's a little too big on me, but he said it looked better on me than it did on him. It made me all fuzzy inside.
I wish I could tell him how much he means to me. I wish I wouldn't be so scared to just say... I love you. I hope he can feel it though. In the way we touch. In the way we look at each other. I hope he knows that I never want him to be with someone that isn't me.
"But I watch your eyes as she
What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky
She's got you mesmerized while I die"
I can feel my heart racing. His hand suddenly feels slack in my own. His whole attention lies on the beauty that's passing by. I swallow hard. My whole body feels like I just took an ice-cold shower.
She's beautiful. Damn. Even in this grey December weather she just seems to shine and light up the colorless world around her.
My hand slips from his. I tell him I have to leave. That something came up. That it's urgent.
Hot tears burn in my eyes. My vision is blurry as I stumble home.
"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
I feel stupid. A level of stupid that I have never felt before. How could I be so delusional? To think that he could be happy with a boy like me. How could he stand kissing me? Pathetic. She's so beautiful. They look good together. I saw them walking through the city yesterday. Holding hands.
I bet hers are a lot softer than mine. Smaller in his palm.
She was wearing his sweater. The one that he gave me that morning, just two weeks ago. It's just polyester, but it's his. I thought it was also mine. Just for that moment. Now it's hers. Her name is Heather, I learned. And I wish I were her.
"Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand
Put your arm 'round your shoulder, now I'm getting colder
But how could I hate her? She's such an angel
But then again, kinda wish she were dead-"
It's a few days before Christmas. There are lights everywhere. Not a single person seems to be in a bad mood. All of them looking forward to spending time with their.. loved ones.
I wander around the city. Cozy in a large scarf. My hands stuffed in my pockets. Seeing all the happiness surrounding me causes a spark of hope.
Maybe I will get over him.
But as I turn a corner, that little spark gets stomped out. Like a heavy boot kicking me in the gut. There they are. Looking so happy. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder.
He used to hold me close like that. Shivers wreck through my whole body. There seems to be no heat left within me. I feel... empty.
The worst thing is, that it is barely possible to hate her. I've heard stories about her. She seems to be the human embodiment of an angel.
But in this moment, I wish she were dead.
What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky
She's got you mesmerized while I die"
They are walking towards me. I bow my head. I can't stand to look at them anymore.
After a second I notice that I stopped walking in the middle of the street. I need to keep moving. Nobody is supposed to know. I look up for only a second. Our eyes meet. She's smiling at me, as if she knows me. Impossible. She is still tucked under his arm.
He doesn't even realize that I'm there.
There is nothing but Heather for him. Nothing.
"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave me your sweater, it's just polyester
I can't help but to feel sorry for myself. But I also feel sorry for him. He was stuck with me for the whole time that we were dating. How long did he want to leave me, even before he met Heather? How could he ever kiss me?
Looking at her, I'm not even half as pretty. I never stood a chance.
She's wearing one of his sweaters again. It suits her good. I bet he told her that she can keep it forever.
That it looks better on her than it does on him.
"(Oh) I wish I were Heather
(Oh, oh) Wish I were Heather"
I'm sitting in the living room. Alone. We planned on spending the whole week surrounding Christmas together. None of us had anywhere to be. We were supposed to sit on this couch. Drink hot chocolate – with extra marshmallows and whipped cream, of course. Just how he liked it.
I was supposed to lay in his arms.
Fireplace crackling with warming flames.
We wanted to watch Love Actually.
I bet he is doing all that with her right now. With Heather. I wish I were her.
I wish I were... Heather.
"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
... Heather. I get it. I like her better than me, too. She is beautiful. She is funny. She helps people with a passion. She looks better in his sweater.
I bet her lips are softer than mine. I bet her skin is smoother than mine. I bet her hair feels nicer when he runs his hands through it.
She has his sweater now. She is his now.
What's left for me are memories and a broken heart.. On Christmas Eve.
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