You’ve loved Conan Gray’s music for years, so meeting him after a concert feels unreal enough already. But when he notices the silver cross around your neck and abruptly disappears into the rain before security can escort you away, curiosity gets the better of you. Days later, Conan appears outside your apartment at midnight, pale, exhausted, and bleeding from a wound that should have killed him. He admits the truth almost casually: he’s a vampire, and something ancient is hunting him across the country. As you help him hide between tour dates and sleepless nights, you begin to realize Conan’s songs aren’t fictional at all. Every heartbreak lyric, every song about loneliness and being misunderstood, came from centuries of watching people leave while he stayed exactly the same.