Scarred [Monthly Challenge: Night/Day]
Wow hi. Remember me? No? That's okay, I've been gone for months. If you don't know me, I'm Justus. Nice to meet you, mate C:
Anyways, here's a semi-depressing, semi-fluffy one-shot. It doesn't have a lot of Ianthony in it, just fluffy friendship goodness.
DO NOT READ if you have any probelms with stories containing depression or self harm references.
Title: Scarred
Summary: During the day, Anthony is able to distract his mind and be himself. During too-quiet nights, however, his struggle with depression often returns, luring him to his old razor blade. In a panic, he calls the one person he knows can help.
Rating/Warnings: PG13. Not a lot of Ianthony. Bad language. *Contains depression and self harm references which may be triggering to some readers.*
Disclaimer: No, once again I do not own Smosh, or either of the boys, or Kalel. In fact, I'm not affiliated with them in any way other than being a loyal fan.C: I do, however, own this story, that I made up in my own head.
A/N: Hey! So, I haven't posted in a long time, but only because I haven't had a single moment to sit and write, and have also had major writer's block for a while. This isn't the best I've ever written, but I think it's a more realistic fic that gives a warm, fluffy feeling towards the end. Hopefully it counts toward the monthly challenge, as it was the original inspiration for this. C: Thanks for reading if you do!
Scarred
Days were safe for Anthony. Daylight was filled with editing, planning, filming, goofing around...it was filled with distraction. He could be completely worry-free, aside from average day-to-day stress. Days were spent laughing over a stupid script with Ian, or making fun of overpriced clothes at the mall with Kalel. He could smile and really mean it, let his shoulders relax, laugh in a carefree tone. Days were good.
Nights were different. When he lay his head against the pillow to fall asleep, Kalel curled up beside him, he was finally free of distractions, and the dark cloud looming over his head was able to brew up a storm. Suddenly, thoughts would bombard him; he wasn't good enough, he didn't do his fair share of editing that day, he wasn't home enough that week, he was worrying too much about everything, he looked awful and couldn't help it, he didn't deserve Smosh, he didn't deserve his girlfriend, he was nothing and didn't deserve anything...
Tonight was no different. Anthony lay in bed, turned away from the girl sleeping soundly beside him, and stared at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock. He watched the minutes pass by as midnight turned to one AM, trying desperately to silence the whispers in his mind. He rubbed his temple with one hand after a while, giving himself a headache with all the negative thoughts. Tonight was filled with self-loathing of his looks. His hair was stupid, he thought, he should get it changed. He hadn't changed it since he was practically a kid. With a sigh, he moved his hand down his face, brushing his fingers across his chin. Too stubbled. He needed to shave. He grabbed at the skin of his face, gathering it between fingers, a ball of anger forming in his center. Why did he have so much loose skin? He must be getting fat, he thought. Too much fast food. He looked horrible from it.
When the digital clock hit 1:00 AM, Anthony sighed with aggravation and quietly rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Kalel, and lumbered to the bathroom. He glared at the mirror after entering, locking the door behind him, and grimaced at what he saw. He wasn't surprised to see his eyes red and watery, tears already forming in the corners. He balled his hands into fists and clenched his teeth, unable to tear his gaze from the ugly reflection staring back at him with hatred. He swallowed hard, letting a tear roll down his cheek. He stood there, silently judging himself, losing willpower quickly.
He tore his gaze away, finally, and slumped down against the wall, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as he hit the cool tiled floor. he grabbed the fabric of his pajama bottoms with both hands, clutching tightly, and sobbed freely into his knees. Why, he wondered, couldn't he just like how he looked? Why couldn't he look normal? Why couldn't he act normal, instead of doing every little thing wrong? He groaned quietly, releasing his pajamas and running his fingers over one of his wrists, feeling the faded scars.
Anthony pulled his head up, reddened eyes flickering up to the bathroom cabinet. He could grab it, he thought. He could grab the razor. He could bring it to his skin, run it across, feel the relief he hadn't felt in too long. He could watch his imperfections dissolve away as warm crimson bled down his arms. He could let go of his thoughts, focus only on the fresh burning in his wrists. Anthony sighed, his heart already pounding at the thought.
The dark haired man blinked, realizing his thoughts, and abruptly pulled his eyes away from the cabinet. No, he thought, not again. He couldn't allow himself to get back into that. The look he'd gotten the last time he did it...the look Ian had on his face. No, he was past all that, with Ian's help. He thought he was, anyways. Now, though, the razor seemed so tempting, only a few feet away...
Anthony pulled his phone out of his pajama bottoms' pocket, calling Ian without even thinking about the time. He needed help right now, and Kalel just wouldn't provide the kind of friendship he needed. He closed his eyes, warm tears running down his face still, and listened as the dial tone rang. One ring, nothing. Two rings, same thing. Anthony held his breath, silently pleading for his friend to answer.
On the fourth ring, he finally heard a groggy, "Hello?" Anthony released his breath in a shaky sigh.
"Hey Ian..." Anthony began, pausing to try and steady his shaky voice. "Um...I know it's like, one in the morning, but...I-"
"I'll be right over," Ian stated, cutting Anthony off. Had his tone of voice been that obvious? Regardless, he felt a weight already lifting from his chest at Ian's words.
"Thanks." Anthony heard a click on the other line and hung up as well, then shoved the phone back into his pocket. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head in his legs, pulling himself into a ball once again.
It seemed like forever, waiting for Ian. After a good fifteen minutes had passed, Anthony's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and opened the text from Ian. 'Buzz me in?' Anthony inhaled sharply as he put his phone back in his pocket, and rubbed his hands across his cheeks, wiping away some of his tears. He pulled himself up and quietly made his way to the door of the apartment, pushing the small button, allowing Ian into the building. He stood silently as he waited for his friend, and opened the door when he heard footsteps approaching.
"Hey, thanks for-" Anthony started to say before Ian pulled him into a tight embrace. He stiffened for a moment before returning the hug. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his head on Ian's shoulder. The two stood there for a while, and Anthony took comfort from it. He was thankful to Ian for being nothing but support and comfort when this happened, even in the middle of the night.
Eventually, Ian pulled away, keeping one hand on Anthony's arm. Anthony blinked away new-forming tears, seeing how tired Ian looked. His eyes were rimmed with light shadow, and his hair stuck up in different directions. Anthony chuckled once as he smoothed down Ian's hair. Ian hit away his hand, his face quickly reddening. Silence enveloped them for a moment before Ian spoke up.
"How are you feeling?" he whispered, blue eyes full of concern. Anthony swallowed, trying to find his voice.
"Not good, I guess." Anthony averted his gaze to the floor, staring at the swirled pattern on the wood in the dark room. "I just kind of...broke down. I wanted to get the razor out, and I couldn't think of anything else to do but call you." He could hear the shakiness in his voice and felt himself growing flustered, face beginning to redden.
Ian sighed. "I thought you threw out that stupid thing." Anthony shrugged. "Well I'm glad you called." Ian closed the door behind him and pulled Anthony over to the living room, and the two sat down on the large couch. Anthony pulled his legs up, hugging them against him once again. Ian put a hand on his knee, offering Anthony a sympathetic look as the older man sighed. Anthony shook his head, trying to blink away tears.
"I don't get it. I just can't accept that I'm a fucking loser. I can't stop breaking down like a baby because of it." He closed his eyes, hiding his face as tears escaped. Ian was quiet beside him, moving his hand to Anthony's back to rub small circles.
"You're not a loser, Ant. I don't know how many times I've tried to tell you that. You know you have problems seeing things how they really are. You know your mind always makes things seem negative."
"What if it's not just my mind, Ian?" Anthony blurted out louder than he intended as he pulled his head up. Tears streamed down his face and he let them. "What if, maybe, I'm seeing the truth; thinking the truth? Why would you tell me I'm ugly, or that I mess everything up? You wouldn't. You're my fucking friend." Ian pursed his lips. Anthony stared at his friend for a few moments, bottom lip quivering, and couldn't stop himself from breaking down again. He pushed himself onto Ian, burying his face in his best friend's chest, leaning his curled up legs against him. Ian kept his hand on Anthony's back and wrapped his other arm around him, resting his chin on Anthony's head.
"Anthony, I wouldn't lie to you. Remember all those times I called you a douche, or an idiot? Yeah, I meant all that. I'm honest. Sometimes you're just a dick. Sometimes, not all the time. 'Cause usually, you're fucking hilarious, and you always do way more work than you have to, and you make time for everyone in your life, and I'm not trying to make this wicked gay, but I'm pretty sure you're not ugly. Dude, look at your girlfriend. No offense, but she's hot."
Anthony gave a chuckle against Ian's chest, sniffling. His friend continued. "Think of her, and me, and our fans, and all your friends. We probably wouldn't be around if you were a total loser that everyone hated, right? To be honest, and I'm seriously being honest, I don't think anyone sees any flaws in you except...well, you." Anthony stayed quiet, the tears slowing. "You have problems with depression, Anthony, and you know that. Depression is a mother fucker that tries to ruin your life, but you can't let it. You can't let it take over your mind and make you think whatever it wants. You have to fight against it and try to believe what I tell you, because I'm your best friend, and I wouldn't lie."
The two of them were quiet for a long time. Anthony tried to steady his breathing as he took in Ian's words, his face still pressed against him. He took a deep breath after a while, and breathed out a quiet, "Thanks, Ian." He wanted to say so much more to his friend, about how hard it was to fight against this thing, or not believe his own thoughts. He wanted to thank him for coming, for dealing with his sobbing mess of a friend, for offering all the words he said, for being there whenever he possibly could. He wanted to say that he'd try as hard as possible to believe his words. He wanted to say so much, but all he got out was "Thanks, Ian."
Ian tightened his arm around Anthony, pulling him closer, and mumbled a "You're welcome," against Anthony's hair. Anthony sighed, content, relaxing in the warmth of Ian's arms. The two stayed like that for a long time; Anthony was unsure of how long, exactly. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. At one point, Ian moved his arm to pull out his phone, probably texting Melanie, and soon slung it back around Anthony.
When he finally came to, Anthony raised his head and looked around. His cheeks felt stiff from dried tears as he looked around, seeing Ian asleep, arms still around him, and light just beginning to shine into the room. Anthony rested his head back against Ian's chest and straightened one leg out, dangling it over the side of the couch with Ian's, and watched dust dance through the early sunlight. Kalel would be awake soon, he thought, so he'd have to wake Ian up and get him out the door. It'd be just a bit awkward for her to walk out to see them practically cuddling on the couch.
Ian stirred beneath Anthony, interrupting his thoughts. He released his arms from Anthony, raising them to stretch upwards. "Hey," his friend mumbled, "You up?" Anthony nodded before pulling himself upright, sitting himself up beside Ian. His friend gave him a smile. "Feeling okay?" Anthony nodded after a moment, returning the bright smile with a small one of his own. Ian pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. "I guess I should get going. I'll pick you up around one to film Lunchtime, all right?" Anthony nodded again, standing up with his friend and stretching out.
He walked with Ian over to the door and opened it for him, patting him on the shoulder as he walked out, and closed the door behind him. He sighed and let his forehead fall against the door. It was daytime again, just like that, and he was safe. "Thanks, Ian," he whispered again, and made his way back to his and Kalel's bedroom, quietly getting back under the covers. He ran his fingers over the old, faded scars again, closing his eyes.
"...Thanks."
Thanks again for reading! Fair winds, all~