Chapter Text
Conrad leaves on the day of the wedding. In a way, it feels like the first time he left for California, leaving his whole life, his whole world, leaving everything he ever knew, and stepping forward into the uncertainty of the unknown. He remembers being scared back then, being terrified. But as always, there was no one he could tell it to. He had only mentioned it to Jere, as a passing comment on the phone.
"I am scared as fuck man," he had said laughing, in the middle of their awkward conversation.
After that night in the motel, after Belly and Jeremiah had gotten together, Conrad couldn’t bring himself to talk to his brother properly. He would cut their calls short with excuses about studying for a test, offering only one-word replies whenever Jere texted. But then, sitting at the airport, when his phone lit up with Jere’s number, something inside him told that he would regret it forever if he didn’t pick it up.
Besides, he had promised his dying mother, that he would always look after him. He would have looked after him anyways even without his mother asking him to, because Conrad really couldn’t help it whenever it came to Jeremiah. He loves Belly, and she will always be special to him, but he had already lost her, and he didn’t want to lose his brother too.
Although, at present, it seemed that no matter what Conrad did, no matter how hard he tried, all the roads ultimately led to the same end. The end where he was left behind, all alone. Picking up the call hadn’t changed anything. He has lost them both already.
"Connie? Afraid?" Conrad had heard his brother's snort from the other side of the call. "Who are you and what have you done to my brother?" Conrad gave a small smile hearing that.
"Never been this far away from home," he said quietly. "Feels kind of daunting."
"You will be fine," Jeremiah had told him. "You are Conrad Fisher. You can do anything. You will figure things out man. You always do. You are perfect."
"Connie, my perfect boy, my perfect baby, whatever even happened to you? It can't all be Aubrey."
Conrad had almost felt the ghost of her hand caressing him, smoothing out his hair. The last time she had ever held him like that, was back when she was still tangible, still here, her hands clammy instead of being soft and firm, strength hardly present in those arms. Conrad had swallowed the lump in his throat, murmuring a thanks to his brother before hanging up.
He did not feel perfect then. And he does not feel perfect now, no matter how much everyone—Mom, Dad, Laurel, Steve, Jere and Belly—loves saying it to him. He feels like a goddamn mess. He feels so fucking sad that no matter what he does, it never goes away and when he thinks it does, it comes back soon enough to haunt him.
And now, he is not even scared anymore. He does not feel anything. But there's no one left to call, to ask after him and even though there are people around in the lobby, the silence of it is fucking killing him. It's killing him that even though he knows Belly loves him despite what she said, he fucked things up too badly back then to ever make it possible for them to be together again.
It’s killing him that Jere might never call, might never want to talk to him, and frankly, Conrad doesn’t think he could either because once, he used to see his mother in him whenever he looked at his brother—the way their whole being would radiate with joy and cheerfulness, bringing life to wherever they stepped foot, as if they were a piece of sunlight itself, always radiant and golden. And now, the last time Conrad looked at him, all he saw was their father, both of them shallow, superficial, lying, cheating scums. It’s killing him to hate his brother for what he has become, for what Conrad has allowed him to become.
Conrad tipped his head back, and let out a sigh, closing his lids over the burning tears. If only he had talked to Belly properly all those years back, treated her the way she deserved to be treated instead of being avoidant, closed off. If only he had let her knew what he really felt, that he actually loved her and always will, then maybe it would have been him standing at the altar today, holding her hands in his.
If only he was able to say all the things that he really wanted to, instead of feeling like the world would end if he did, then maybe, today, he wouldn’t be sitting alone in the airport, dying inside with all the unspoken words he has shoved down his entire life, letting them rot.
He couldn’t even protect Jeremiah from that one person he should have protected him from. While he was busy tearing himself apart, shredding away the pieces of his father from himself, he let Adam sink his claws deep in his brother. He has failed his brother, and he has failed their mother. He couldn’t keep the promise he made to her. He doesn’t know if she will ever forgive him for this, love him again, and accept him back when his own time comes.
The sudden, sharp ringing of his phone tore through the woeful, futile musings. He let it ring for two more seconds, before deciding to pick it up, sitting up straight with a sniffle as he pulled out his phone from his pocket.
The name Agnes glared at him from the screen, a bright orange heart emoji beside it. She had added it herself when they first exchanged numbers, so that if they didn’t happen to see each other often, he could always recall her by her red, fiery hair. But Conrad could hardly forget that, not when it was the first thing that he had noticed about her. And lucky for both of them, they happened to cross each other's path more often than not.
Well, he wasn’t expecting anyone else to call. He swiped on the screen to receive the call, putting the phone close to his ear.
"Hey." Conrad tried to keep his voice light-hearted.
"Hey!" Agnes sounded cheerful, way too cheerful for a sardonic person. And the way her words came out slurred told him that she was either drunk or very much stoned.
"So, don’t be mad, but I am in your apartment right now. My bitch of a roommate’s got a guy over at ours.” She made a disgusted sound. “I promise to tidy it up in the morning before you arrive, so don’t worry."
"It’s fine," Conrad said. "Sleep it off, whatever you are on."
"Oh please, it was just a little weed. Spare me thy judging eyes."
"I am not judging," Conrad gave a soft chuckle. "If you want to wreck your nerves, go ahead. You are an adult, I am no one to stand in your way."
Agnes made a sound like she just stuck out her tongue at him. "At least, I am not still hungover my ex slash brother's fiance. Oh, sorry, it's wife now. Speaking of it, how did the wedding go?"
"The wedding. Yeah, um it was..." Conrad trailed off. How is he going to tell her, that he could barely tolerate to stand there, pretending that he was okay with all of it, with seeing his girl exchanging vows with some other person, who was none other than his brother? How is he going to tell her that despite how much he tried, at the end, he couldn’t suck it up?
"Conrad? You there?"
"Yeah, I am here." Conrad broke out of his train of thoughts.
"So, the wedding. Um, it was great. Everything went fine. The venue was this fancy country club of my dad's. I think, I mentioned him coming around eventually, so he was more than happy to pay for the wedding. Laurel came around too, at the end. So yeah, things had a rocky start, but they got solved by themselves."
"Hm," Agnes hummed. "And what about our bride and groom? How are they faring?"
"They are—" Conrad paused to take in a breath. You will never be what Jere is to me. "They are doing great. They are really happy with each other. Laurel gave them airline gift-cards for their honeymoon, so they might go somewhere, I guess."
"Did you do the dance?" Conrad could hear the mischief in her voice, which made Conrad not want to grace her with a verbal answer, but his silence told her what she wanted to hear, sending her into a voracious cackle.
"Oh my god, I wish—I really wish I was invited to this wedding. I mean, to see Conrad Fisher dancing with a group of frat boys—that's the memory of a lifetime for me. Man..." Agnes dissolved into laughter again on the call. But Conrad couldn’t bring himself to share her enthusiasm.
“He loves me for what I am, and he doesn’t take it away when things get hard.” Conrad wonders if there was anything more he could have said, to convince her, to make her believe that things are different now, that he is different now and he has become better. He won't take anything away. He will only give, give and give, even when there will be nothing left to give.
He is fucking hating himself right now for even thinking about all these, for thinking of Belly, when he almost ruined his little brother's wedding—the most special day of his life—with his actions. Conrad should have never come. Steven and Taylor were right. He chose to disappear. He had put his past life behind him and was better for it. Jeremiah stayed, and he was content enough without his presence. It was Conrad who always intruded, trying to go back to being his brother, his best friend the way he once was when they were kids, trying to be a part of that life that he no longer belonged to. Jeremiah had been happy with Belly these past four years, until Conrad came and almost sabotaged it all.
Maybe he should have skipped out on the wedding. What's the worse that could have even happened? Jeremiah would have gotten angry, would have argued, thrown a tantrum for missing out, for not caring enough. But eventually, he would have come around. That's the thing about them. They bury these wounds as if nothing ever happened, except for the few times they decide to revisit, picking at those old scabs, fighting, then back to pretending again, and on and on it goes like a vicious cycle. But at least, Conrad still had his brother. In whatever way, in whatever form, he still had him—the only family he had left in this world. And that was better than not having him at all.
The image of Jeremiah's crying face rose to his mind. He had looked so hurt, so upset upon reading the letter. If Conrad hadn’t come to the wedding, then maybe his brother wouldn’t have stood in front him, with tears in bright eyes, that was once full of joy, and now full of grief, looking betrayed, devastated as he spits out harsh words between his sobs, telling him that he doesn't want him at his wedding, telling him to never come near Belly or him ever again. You are not my brother anymore. You are dead to me. To Conrad, his words had stung more than Belly's. You and I are done.
It felt final, the way Jeremiah said those things. Conrad tried to placate him, to say that he doesn't have to break off things between them, and that they only had each other (Conrad only has him), but he found that there were no words he could have said that might have convinced Jeremiah otherwise. Sure, they have fought before, argued before, but something about this one felt like there was no coming back from it.
So, against his better judgement, he went back to see the last person who might yet allow him to speak, before finally stepping away. Be good to each other, he had told Belly. He knew they would be. Despite everything, he cannot deny Belly's and Jere's love for each other is true. He can only hope that from now one Jere can love her better so as not to squander the second chance she has given him.
Conrad didn’t realise when he had started crying. He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t register the voice coming from his phone.
"Conrad? Conrad? Hey, are you listening?"
"Yea," he tried to speak, but his voice didn’t come as strong. Agnes, observant and keen as always even when stoned, caught on to that.
"Con, is something wrong?"
"No, no." Conrad hastily wiped his tears, as if Agnes could see them. "Nothing's wrong. Its just...I...I...I..." Conrad couldn’t keep it under the wraps any longer. He broke down, letting the tears fall freely, with Agnes still on the line, hearing him cry.
"Conrad?" There was some rustle to be heard from the other side of the line.
"I fucked up, Agnes," He said with his voice breaking. "I fucked up real bad."
"Why? What happened? What did you do?"
"I, um..." Conrad closed his eyes as he held his head in his hand, hunching over. "I told Belly I still loved her."
"What?!" Agnes's voice went a pitch higher. "Why—Why did you do that?"
"I didn’t mean to," Conrad said desperately. "I was only trying to stop her from making a mistake."
"Oh Con." He heard Agnes sigh. "She's been with your brother for four years. What were you thinking?"
"No, no, it's not that," Conrad tried to explain. "Jere—he...he cheated. He slept with someone else while they were still together. So, I told Belly about it, because I couldn’t bear to let her go ahead with the wedding if she was in the dark, but guess what? She knew! She already fucking knew. And she still married him despite that." Conrad let out a wet laugh.
"Even then, you don't just go and tell your highschool ex that you still love her two days before her wedding! Of course that's going to fuck shit up. Wait, the wedding didn't get cancelled or anything, did it?"
"No." Conrad sniffled. "Though it almost did. Jeremiah had gone away somewhere in the morning without telling anyone after Belly told him what I said. I went to get him and—" He paused, suppressing a sob.
"Jere was so angry with me, Agnes. He never wants to see me again. He didn’t even want me at his wedding."
"But you were at the wedding."
"Because I had to! Enough people hate me already. Steven, Taylor, Belly, Jere. Dad and Laurel doesn’t need to know about it too."
"Damn," Agnes said. "I—I don't know what to say. This is crazy."
"It's fine." Conrad sat up straight, brushing away the tears. "You are probably thinking I am really pathetic."
"I mean, no offense but yeah, kinda," she said with the same blunt honesty as usual, making Conrad smile.
"You know, I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Belly, I mean. When the priest was citing their vows, our eyes met for a second, and I could see the hesitance. I could see her doubting. I just don't get why she would be so hellbent on going ahead with something she doesn't really want."
"Conrad—"
"Maybe she just wants to hurt me." Conrad interrupted. "Hurt me back for the way I treated her all those years back. She said—" Conrad let out a short, humorless chuckle. "She said that she has dealt worse from me than she has from Jere. I mean, sure I was off putting, I was detached at times by being all hot and cold, and I couldn’t be the person she wanted me to be. But I tried. I really did. I tried so hard to keep us alive, to keep—" His voice faltered.
"I really tried to keep my mother alive, Agnes." Conrad's words turned to sobs as he cried unabashedly, all out in the open with Agnes still on the line. For some time, neither of them talked. Only silence prevailed for the time being, and amidst the quiet, the sound of Conrad's cries. When his sobs eventually died down into soft cries, Agnes spoke.
"Conrad?" she called out gently. "Hey, are you there?"
"Mhm, yea." He pressed the heel of his hand against his wet eyes.
"Listen, I—I don't know what to say and I really shouldn’t say anything right now but by god, I will never understand the hold that this girl has on you. I mean Con, it kills me sometimes to hear you say how you aren't good enough just because you and Belly didn't end on the best terms. I mean, yes, you made some mistakes then, but you guys were kids back then. And yes, you shouldn't have told her of your undying love for her like a day before her wedding, but not everything's on you Con."
Conrad smiled ruefully. "It feels like it is."
"No, fuck you it's not. And I am going to keep saying it until you believe it. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t fit this perfect image, this perfect idea she had created of you inside her head. She put you on some kind of pedestal and somehow expected to you to meet up to that when you were struggling to stay afloat in the first place. It's ironic that for all her grand fantasies of loving you, when it came to the real thing, seeing the real you, she couldn't handle it. Belly's got a lot to blame for too."
"Or maybe I am just unlovable," Conrad said with a broken laugh. "There has always been something wrong with me. I can't...say the things that I really want to say. I am so afraid of everything all the time. When people see that, they don't like me anymore. I just hoped that Belly would be different. But maybe they aren't wrong. I mean if I had spoken to my mom earlier, or even told Jere, then maybe we could have gotten her to start chemo sooner and maybe she would still be here with us. I guess, I am just that much of a fucking coward that I let my mother die," he said, laughing and crying at the same time.
"No, no," Agnes said almost fervently in an attempt to deny his words. "Your mother's death is not your fault Conrad."
"You are just saying that—"
"Oh fuck you." She sounded pissed now. "What do I have to gain by hearing you mope and self deprecate? Some pretty, sad boy thinks he messed everything up and I have to make him feel better? Nah man, I would rather sleep my ass off right now. But I am still here, saying that some things aren't your fault and when I say that, it means they simply aren't. Because that's just the fucking truth."
Conrad fell quiet, not knowing what to say. It’s true Agnes is not much for giving sympathy or pity, but he still can't bring himself to believe it, when he has spent much of his life convincing himself otherwise. He heard Agnes sigh from the other side of the call before asking,
"When are you going to land?" Her voice was less harsh now, the bite gone.
"Seven in morning. But they might delay it. The weather doesn’t seem so good."
"Alright," she said, but it sounded like she wanted to say something else. "Um, we will talk more when you come back. In the meantime, get up, walk around and buy something nice for yourself from those airport shops. Get a good sleep when you go on the plane and for godsake, stop beating yourself up."
Conrad gave a small smile at that. "I will try."
"No, not try. You will do exactly what I am telling you to do."
"Alright, I will." Usually, Conrad's the one who always tells her to take care of herself, eat and sleep properly. It feels strange hearing his own words come from someone like her, who lives without giving a damn care, lives as though there are no consequences to life. He never said it, but he really admires that about her amongst other things. He sometimes wishes he could feel free like that.
"Look, I know you can't exactly see it, but you got good things going for you. Things to look forward to. I mean, you are fucking studying in Stanford and getting good grades on top of that. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your place? You need to be able to start appreciating these things. You can't keep on living in the past, mulling over things that makes you miserable."
"I know," Conrad’s words came out whisper-like. "I just can't help it sometimes."
"Well, you have to, okay? And we are going to work on it when you come back." She was determined, Conrad could tell from her voice. He only hummed in response, knowing that nothing could really help him. For a single moment, both of them stayed in the silence, relishing in it’s peacefulness, until he heard Agnes curse under her breath all of a sudden.
"Fuck." She sounded exasperated. Either dizziness was hitting her, or she was annoyed at him again. "I am—we—shit, I am not going to remember saying this when I wake up, and I am probably going to regret saying this now, but I need you to know Conrad. I want you to know." Conrad felt his own anticipation building from hearing the restlessness in her voice.
"I would have never treated you like that," she murmured, with a kind of sincerity he never expected to hear from her, from someone who hardly ever seemed serious enough, always joking around, always having a tinge of humour following in everything they ever did. "Back then, if you had given me a chance, I would have treated you better. Better than she ever did. I would have made you happy. I still want to do infact." She fell quiet for a second, before continuing.
"I will never understand how Belly could ever live with herself after making you cry like this. How her chest doesn't hurt, like physically hurt, as if her heart might burst open when she said all the horrible things that she ever did, and made you go through more shit as if you weren't already dealing with enough. I can't speak for her, but hearing you sound like this has hurt me. And if it was me, if I had ever made you cry like this, I would fucking hate myself forever."
She ended with a little laugh, never much detached from her humourous edge even while saying the most serious things of all things. But Conrad was already spiraling from hearing her talk like this.
"Come back," she said, and his breath got caught almost immediately. "Come back soon."
The line went dead, leaving Conrad alone once more. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his heart that was now beating faster than usual. A part of him always knew that even after rejecting her and just staying friends, Agnes still harboured some feelings for him. He never acknowledged it, would even sometimes act oblivious to it whenever he caught her glances lingering for a moment longer. It was because he liked what they had—the ease, the comfort, the joy he thought he might never feel when his mother left this world—and he supposed Agnes did too, which must be why she had stuck around with him all this time.
His hand travelled up to his arm, picking and pinching at his skin as he breathed in and out slowly. No, he can't have a repeat of Nicole. Hopefully, Agnes won't remember any of the things she said tonight, and, he will pretend like he doesn’t remember them either. They will continue on like before, as always. And the hurt he feels right now will dull down eventually. He only wishes that it wasn’t there in the first place.
Conrad wipes his tears for the last time as he stands up from his seat, going to do what Agnes told him to. When he lands in California, he is going to be away from all the things that he ran from in the first place. Everything will go back to the way it was.
Everything will be alright, Conrad thinks as he walks away, trying to hold on to hope, something he seldom does in times of misery, that seems to come so often in his life.
He reached California at 9 a.m. Even though it wasn’t that early in the morning, there were far more people in the airport than he had expected. Maybe everyone had gone away like him for the summer, and was now returning after having a good vacation, unlike him.
He felt sore all over, and a dull ache pricked behind his eyes as he stood in the line before the counter. Despite trying, he couldn’t get any sleep on the flight and all that crying had done him no good. As much as he wants to go and lay down in his bed all day long, he can't, not when he has taken weeks off already. He will have to catch up on the lectures he missed, and most importantly look for internships at clinics, although he doubts anyone would hire him for lab work even at this point. After all, he got himself fired, and on top of that skipped out on that lab job Agnes had so graciously brought for him. It seems that he has singlehandedly managed to sabotage every aspect of his life.
But thinking about it repeatedly isn't going to fix anything. Besides, he is sick of being inside his own head at this point. He just wants to shut down everything and keep living on autopilot. That's what Conrad decided to do when he walked ahead after having all formalities done at the counter, and stepping into the arrival hall, until a flash of bushy, red hair caught his eyes, turning all his plans to dust.
Agnes.
There she was, sitting on the benches, arms crossed, shoulders slumped, black sunglasses on her face as she watched people move about, seeming such to Conrad by the slight shifts of her head. How long has she been waiting for him? She had made no mention of coming during their talk last night. But knowing Agnes, it must have been a decision she made in the spur of a moment.
Conrad walked towards her, and before even reaching her side, she seemed to have become aware of his presence, instinctively turning her head to meet his gaze. She stood from her place, moving already to close the distance between them.
"You came," Conrad breathed out, suprise evident in his voice.
Agnes took her glasses off. "You called." A smile played on her face despite the deep rooted tiredness in her eyes.
"I did not," Conrad said. "You are the one who called."
"Oh please." She rolled her eyes. "I could quite literally hear your cries for help, even if me coming here wasn't the exact thing you asked for. Besides, I worried that you might try to jump off a bridge with your broken heart, if I left you to return alone."
"You are so paranoid," Conrad said with a light laugh. "I am not that dramatic."
"Oh, so you agree that you are somewhat dramatic?"
"Shut up." Conrad walked away from her, moving towards the entrance. He heard her footsteps fall beside him in less than a minute.
"You shouldn’t have come," Conrad said after a moment of quiet. He felt Agnes looking at him, brows crunching already. "I mean, you have work at the clinic, and you won’t reach there in time now, and Dr Namazi doesn’t excuse lateness—"
"Oh my god, stop worrying," Agnes said, laughing as they stepped out of the airport. "I took a day off."
Conrad stopped, turning towards her and sputtering "You—what—Agnes, you didn’t have to. I could have come on my own."
"Oh please, you are not that important. I didn’t take a day off for you." She snorted. "I took a day off for myself. I am sure Dr Namazi wouldn’t like me showing up hungover. She might seem stuck up, but she is reasonable."
Conrad huffed out a faint smile. "Reasonable, sure."
“Still salty that she kicked you to the curb?” Agnes asked, one brow raised in amusement.
“I’m over it,” Conrad said simply.
“Well, she did tell you to apply again next year. If she weren’t reasonable, she wouldn’t have said that.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve got a lot to catch up on. I missed too many classes, and I didn’t even show up for that lab job you got me. Once again, I’m sorry for that.”
"Don't be." She clicked her tongue. "That place was full of assholes anyway."
Conrad couldn’t help but let out a small grin. "So, that guy didn’t work out huh? I thought you told me to prepare for another wedding—" He swiftly stepped back just in time to dodge a punch to the shoulder, laughing.
"Yeah, yeah Fisher." Agnes sped up her walk when she spotted her car in the parking lot, circling around to the driver's seat. "Go ahead and laugh about my failed love life all you want. At least, mine's not non-existent like yours." She flipped him off from there, before getting inside the car.
Conrad did the same, putting his bag at the back before settling down beside Agnes into the passenger seat. He turned to face her, noticing her angry pout and the slight reddening of her cheeks, making her lightly pigmented freckles visible. She was embarrassed, Conrad could understand.
"I am sorry," he said. "That guy seemed like a sleaze anyways, so there's no loss on your part. And, you are way too cool to hang out with someone like that."
That seemed to do it as he saw her face soften, mumbling out a quiet "thanks" as she went on to twist the key in the ignition. Conrad reached for the belt beside him, pulling it taut to clip it onto his other side.
"Oh, by the way, I grabbed some coffee for you on my way here," Agnes said as she held a white cup before him. "Hazelnut and cream—just the way you like it. Thought you might need it after your flight. It's turned cold by now though."
Conrad took the coffee from her hands, her fingers sliding over his as the cup passed into his grip. He looked at her, thinking about the night before—how, even after staying up to listen to him, she’d still woken early to meet him here, with his favourite coffee in hand.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, his voice soft, threaded with genuine adoration.
Agnes shrugged casually, as she moved the car back, out of the parking space, before shifting gears and driving forward.
"Because I want you to be happy, Con."
I would have treated you better. Better than she ever did. I would have made you happy. Conrad did not prod further.
He looked down at the cup in his hands, suddenly feeling not so empty as before, and wondered if the warmth he was feeling came from the heat of the drink or from her fingers, the touch of which he could still feel lingering on his skin.