Roommates (A Conan Gray x Fem OC)

a/n okay i have a little confession. i've already written the chapters up to chapter sixty. eehehehehehee

conan's pov

the apartment felt too quiet. too still. the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears and made you feel like you were suffocating. i sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the floor, my head resting in my hands. my chest was heavy, my stomach twisted into tight, painful knots. i hadn't slept. i couldn't. every time i closed my eyes, my mind filled with questions, fears, and worst of all, the image of millie's face when annie had called me. broken.

i rubbed my hands over my face, trying to shake the thought away, but it clung to me like a shadow. my phone sat on the coffee table, buzzing every now and then. olivia had called at least three times already, and i couldn't bring myself to answer. what was i supposed to say? i didn't even know how to put what i was feeling into words.

millie's voice echoed in my head—soft, laughing, full of warmth. the way she always made the darkest days seem brighter without even trying. and now... now she was hurting, and i didn't know why or how to help.

my chest tightened again, and i leaned forward, gripping my hair with both hands. i felt useless. completely and utterly useless.

a sharp buzz pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts, and i glanced at the phone again. olivia's name lit up the screen, and for a moment, i debated ignoring it. but then guilt gnawed at me. she was just trying to help.

i sighed and grabbed the phone, pressing it to my ear. "hello?" my voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"finally!" olivia's voice burst through the line, loud and full of energy, as always. "do you know how many times i've called you? conan, you're lucky i'm too nice to show up and bang on your door."

"sorry," i mumbled, my throat dry.

"don't be sorry. just... don't ignore me next time, okay? i was worried about you," she said, her voice softening a little.

i didn't respond right away, unsure of what to say. i could feel the weight of her concern through the phone, and it only made the ache in my chest worse.

"look," olivia continued, breaking the silence. "i'm coming over."

"you don't have to—"

"nope, not listening," she interrupted, her tone firm. "i'm already grabbing my coat. you're not gonna sit there and wallow by yourself, conan. i'll be there in twenty minutes."

i opened my mouth to argue, but she'd already hung up. i stared at the screen for a moment before setting the phone back down. part of me wanted to tell her not to come, that i didn't want to talk to anyone, but another part—maybe the smaller, quieter part—was grateful.

twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. i dragged myself off the couch, my movements slow and heavy, and opened it. olivia stood there, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her arms full of what looked like snacks and a blanket.

"hey," she said, giving me a small smile. "you look like crap."

"thanks," i muttered, stepping aside to let her in.

she kicked off her boots and set the snacks on the coffee table before flopping onto the couch. "i brought reinforcements," she said, gesturing to the pile. "chips, chocolate, tea... and this blanket, which, by the way, is the comfiest thing you'll ever feel."

i sat down next to her, my shoulders slumping. "you didn't have to do all this."

"of course i did," she said, giving me a pointed look. "you're my friend, conan. and friends don't let friends fall apart alone."