Ordinary, chapter 34
summary: Ian is diagnosed with cancer. In this chapter, Ian goes to see Kris.
warnings: sadness and foul language
rating: pg-13
Ordinary, chapter thirty four
Come Monday morning, Ian felt better, but not much. The end was still near for him, but he was just thankful he had survived through the night; after the time he had with Marrow, he was sure he'd slip away the moment his head hit that pillow. But he stayed alive, persevered, and, after several long hours of rest, drove once again, to see a man he desperately needed at that time.
He arrived a bit early as always, just because he didn't want to miss a minute's time with his friend. He sat in the waiting room and recovered the strength that was lost driving there, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. His time with yoga, while he was strong enough to do it, had paid off, and although he found himself still weak when Ruby called his name a few minutes later, he was strong enough to walk into his friend's office once again.
Kris sat in his comfortable chair expectantly, and a sad smile came to his face when Ian walked in. Ian returned it, both grateful to see the other, but upset by the circumstances. He stepped over, shook his hand, and sat in the large chair beside Kris', heaving a great sigh as he did so. He was so often tired by then.
"How are you, m'boy?" Kris asked, voice soft, as if he was already in mourning.
"Sick. Upset." Ian felt there was so much more he could say to answer that question, but that was the simplest answer, and certainly true.
Kris knew he was both, he had spent enough time with Ian to know of his sadness, and he could clearly see his sickness. Ian was so pale now, and so thin, his clothes loose. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his hair was dull and flat against his head, which was sprinkled in a light sweat, making him appear clammy and ill. His breath was sharp, his hands perpetually dry, his posture poor due to the lack of energy he had to sit straight. No, it should have been painfully obvious to anyone who saw him that he was inches from death.
"Upset?" Kris finally said, struggling to keep his breath from catching in his throat. Kris knew Ian would not be able to hold on for long if he saw him, whom he looked to as a father, break down.
"I wish..." Ian gulped and looked down at the globe for a moment. "I wish I knew you longer. You've been such a good friend. I wish we didn't have to meet this way."
He looked back up, into Kris' eyes, and saw what was almost always there; warmth, protection. Sunlight. There was never anyone like Kris. No one had ever made Ian feel loved like a son, before meeting this man. This kind, smart, gentle man, that helped him through the hardest time of his entire life, his ending, his undoing. And every ounce of hope and love Ian had ever seen was there in his eyes, his wrinkled face, his gentle smile, a driving force that pushed Ian forward, that gave him a reminder of the little bit of good that remained in the world.
And Kris looked back at him, and he knew how much he helped the boy, and he felt a strangling sadness at his friend's future, and that sadness mixed with every other sadness he had ever felt, until any good feeling he'd once known and any relief at knowing of his help was overshadowed by this cloud, this darkness taking their sunlight away, until they were only two old men sitting together, both needing that sunlight, that reminder of what strength can give you, and how good the world can be when you have it.
"I know the circumstances of our meeting are upsetting." Kris said at last, looking upon his friend with a sad smile. "But we can't change the past. Wishing won't help us achieve our goals, Ian. Wishes are merely band-aids. To do what must be done, we need strength." Ian nodded, his eyes dry of tears. "Please, Ian, remember to have strength. Think of all that is good, all that is warm. Gather strength from where you can, and fight the storm until it passes. And it will pass, it always does."
Ian swallowed thickly and nodded, the sadness over them fighting the words, but those words were the truth, and they were as strong as mankind had the ability to be.
"Just stay strong now, Ian. It will all be over soon." Kris said to him, tears in his eyes, and his sad smile faded.
"Thank you, Kris. Thank you so much." Ian said, sad smile also gone as he nodded seriously to his great friend.
The pair stood, facing each other, and Kris enveloped him in a warm hug. Ian stayed silent, sadness making his whole body physically ache, but he did love his hug. He never got to say goodbye to his father, and while he hoped the hug he was in wasn't a goodbye, while he hoped he would be alive to see the man next week, he knew that if he died, that moment was enough.
A tear spilled down Kris' cheek as he embraced the friend. "Farewell, my boy."
They stood still for one more moment, before releasing each other. Kris, hand on Ian's arm, nodded seriously once more, the warmth burning encouragingly in his eyes, and Ian nodded to him, weak and tired, in an unspoken promise. He would stay strong. He took a step back, then walked slowly out of the office, not looking back in fear of losing control, of bursting into tears and clinging to Kris and begging for a world where there was no pain, a world that could never be. No. He could not turn around, he could not lose his strength. He gave Ruby a respectful nod, and she nodded back knowingly as he continued out the door.
Kris stood, watching, arm still outstretched. He had said farewell for a reason. He knew Ian wasn't coming back.
***
Ian had been exhausted by the time he got home, and sat on the couch for a long time, staring blankly at the dark television screen. The emotions of the therapy session had worn him down, and he wanted a moment without thought or feeling.
But of course, after a second, thought and feeling reigned once again, buzzing in his mind and jumping along his nerves.
He was scared. He was always scared; scared someone would find out, scared of how they would treat him, scared of dying. But at that moment, he was especially scared of leaving Anthony before they could finish all of the mail.
The mail, which they'd been opening on Mailtime with Smosh for awhile, was still in a stack in the garage, large, but not as large as it had once been. Ian had been determined over the past two months to finish it all, for several reasons. He wanted to read it all because it was from the fans, and he didn't want to miss anything great that they could've sent. He also didn't want the pile of mail sitting in the garage when his mother had to sell the house. But, most importantly, he didn't want Anthony to be stuck with it after his death- he couldn't imagine what his friend would do with it all.
So he stood, and dragged in as much mail as he and Anthony could open in the few hours they had, but disappointment flooded him when he noticed there was still some left. It would be impossible to finish the mail this week. As he grabbed a tissue and wiped some sweat from his forehead, a product of lifting the mail and the Summer heat, he could only hope that he would be able to finish it the following week, or even stay alive until then.
Anthony arrived a few minutes later, the permanent look of worry still on his brow. He never said a word to Ian about his mild concern, thinking things weren't that bad, that maybe his friend was just tired, a little under the weather and suffering from his low blood pressure, and only gave him a customary greeting and went to get the camera instead.
"Hey guys, welcome to yet another Mailtime with Smosh!" Anthony said with extra zeal to the camera, then sat on the ground next to Ian. They were sitting closer and closer towards the end, as though Ian subconsciously wanted Anthony protecting him, and Anthony wanted to do the protecting.
"Time for some mail!" Ian said to the camera with a forced smile. He was not sure how much longer he could go on. He spent the episode with that forced smile, and many more like it; he enjoyed his fan's mail, and Anthony's presence, but he was sick and tired, and no longer had the strength to be as jovial as he once was.
"Ian, I think this candy is pois-" Anthony made a face and fell over, playing dead at the end of the episode, something Ian no longer did. There was a moment of silence.
"I hope this is a valuable lesson to you all about taking candy from strangers." Ian finally said to the camera, fake smile now gone from his face, as he was too tired to pretend now. "Thanks for watching, leave a suggestion for Ian is Bored down below, even though we won't do it. Bye, bitch!"
Anthony laughed a little as Ian turned off the camera. In a comfortable (but tired) silence, they cleaned up what was left after the episode, Ian remaining seated the entire time. As Anthony stood and placed the camera on the table, Ian was reminded of what he needed to say.
"Oh, hey, no filming this week, it's July fourth on Wednesday." Ian insisted with a smile, but he was actually just too sick to pretend in front of the crew.
"Oh yeah, I got it." Anthony smiled back, though with worry and uncertainty. "I think we've cleaned up pretty good, I'm gonna head home. See you later."
"Yeah, see you." Ian smiled at his friend, still on the ground, and watched Anthony walk out the door without another word.
Just one more week, Ian thought of the mail, desperation in his head. Just one more week.
warnings: sadness and foul language
rating: pg-13
Ordinary, chapter thirty four
Come Monday morning, Ian felt better, but not much. The end was still near for him, but he was just thankful he had survived through the night; after the time he had with Marrow, he was sure he'd slip away the moment his head hit that pillow. But he stayed alive, persevered, and, after several long hours of rest, drove once again, to see a man he desperately needed at that time.
He arrived a bit early as always, just because he didn't want to miss a minute's time with his friend. He sat in the waiting room and recovered the strength that was lost driving there, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. His time with yoga, while he was strong enough to do it, had paid off, and although he found himself still weak when Ruby called his name a few minutes later, he was strong enough to walk into his friend's office once again.
Kris sat in his comfortable chair expectantly, and a sad smile came to his face when Ian walked in. Ian returned it, both grateful to see the other, but upset by the circumstances. He stepped over, shook his hand, and sat in the large chair beside Kris', heaving a great sigh as he did so. He was so often tired by then.
"How are you, m'boy?" Kris asked, voice soft, as if he was already in mourning.
"Sick. Upset." Ian felt there was so much more he could say to answer that question, but that was the simplest answer, and certainly true.
Kris knew he was both, he had spent enough time with Ian to know of his sadness, and he could clearly see his sickness. Ian was so pale now, and so thin, his clothes loose. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his hair was dull and flat against his head, which was sprinkled in a light sweat, making him appear clammy and ill. His breath was sharp, his hands perpetually dry, his posture poor due to the lack of energy he had to sit straight. No, it should have been painfully obvious to anyone who saw him that he was inches from death.
"Upset?" Kris finally said, struggling to keep his breath from catching in his throat. Kris knew Ian would not be able to hold on for long if he saw him, whom he looked to as a father, break down.
"I wish..." Ian gulped and looked down at the globe for a moment. "I wish I knew you longer. You've been such a good friend. I wish we didn't have to meet this way."
He looked back up, into Kris' eyes, and saw what was almost always there; warmth, protection. Sunlight. There was never anyone like Kris. No one had ever made Ian feel loved like a son, before meeting this man. This kind, smart, gentle man, that helped him through the hardest time of his entire life, his ending, his undoing. And every ounce of hope and love Ian had ever seen was there in his eyes, his wrinkled face, his gentle smile, a driving force that pushed Ian forward, that gave him a reminder of the little bit of good that remained in the world.
And Kris looked back at him, and he knew how much he helped the boy, and he felt a strangling sadness at his friend's future, and that sadness mixed with every other sadness he had ever felt, until any good feeling he'd once known and any relief at knowing of his help was overshadowed by this cloud, this darkness taking their sunlight away, until they were only two old men sitting together, both needing that sunlight, that reminder of what strength can give you, and how good the world can be when you have it.
"I know the circumstances of our meeting are upsetting." Kris said at last, looking upon his friend with a sad smile. "But we can't change the past. Wishing won't help us achieve our goals, Ian. Wishes are merely band-aids. To do what must be done, we need strength." Ian nodded, his eyes dry of tears. "Please, Ian, remember to have strength. Think of all that is good, all that is warm. Gather strength from where you can, and fight the storm until it passes. And it will pass, it always does."
Ian swallowed thickly and nodded, the sadness over them fighting the words, but those words were the truth, and they were as strong as mankind had the ability to be.
"Just stay strong now, Ian. It will all be over soon." Kris said to him, tears in his eyes, and his sad smile faded.
"Thank you, Kris. Thank you so much." Ian said, sad smile also gone as he nodded seriously to his great friend.
The pair stood, facing each other, and Kris enveloped him in a warm hug. Ian stayed silent, sadness making his whole body physically ache, but he did love his hug. He never got to say goodbye to his father, and while he hoped the hug he was in wasn't a goodbye, while he hoped he would be alive to see the man next week, he knew that if he died, that moment was enough.
A tear spilled down Kris' cheek as he embraced the friend. "Farewell, my boy."
They stood still for one more moment, before releasing each other. Kris, hand on Ian's arm, nodded seriously once more, the warmth burning encouragingly in his eyes, and Ian nodded to him, weak and tired, in an unspoken promise. He would stay strong. He took a step back, then walked slowly out of the office, not looking back in fear of losing control, of bursting into tears and clinging to Kris and begging for a world where there was no pain, a world that could never be. No. He could not turn around, he could not lose his strength. He gave Ruby a respectful nod, and she nodded back knowingly as he continued out the door.
Kris stood, watching, arm still outstretched. He had said farewell for a reason. He knew Ian wasn't coming back.
***
Ian had been exhausted by the time he got home, and sat on the couch for a long time, staring blankly at the dark television screen. The emotions of the therapy session had worn him down, and he wanted a moment without thought or feeling.
But of course, after a second, thought and feeling reigned once again, buzzing in his mind and jumping along his nerves.
He was scared. He was always scared; scared someone would find out, scared of how they would treat him, scared of dying. But at that moment, he was especially scared of leaving Anthony before they could finish all of the mail.
The mail, which they'd been opening on Mailtime with Smosh for awhile, was still in a stack in the garage, large, but not as large as it had once been. Ian had been determined over the past two months to finish it all, for several reasons. He wanted to read it all because it was from the fans, and he didn't want to miss anything great that they could've sent. He also didn't want the pile of mail sitting in the garage when his mother had to sell the house. But, most importantly, he didn't want Anthony to be stuck with it after his death- he couldn't imagine what his friend would do with it all.
So he stood, and dragged in as much mail as he and Anthony could open in the few hours they had, but disappointment flooded him when he noticed there was still some left. It would be impossible to finish the mail this week. As he grabbed a tissue and wiped some sweat from his forehead, a product of lifting the mail and the Summer heat, he could only hope that he would be able to finish it the following week, or even stay alive until then.
Anthony arrived a few minutes later, the permanent look of worry still on his brow. He never said a word to Ian about his mild concern, thinking things weren't that bad, that maybe his friend was just tired, a little under the weather and suffering from his low blood pressure, and only gave him a customary greeting and went to get the camera instead.
"Hey guys, welcome to yet another Mailtime with Smosh!" Anthony said with extra zeal to the camera, then sat on the ground next to Ian. They were sitting closer and closer towards the end, as though Ian subconsciously wanted Anthony protecting him, and Anthony wanted to do the protecting.
"Time for some mail!" Ian said to the camera with a forced smile. He was not sure how much longer he could go on. He spent the episode with that forced smile, and many more like it; he enjoyed his fan's mail, and Anthony's presence, but he was sick and tired, and no longer had the strength to be as jovial as he once was.
"Ian, I think this candy is pois-" Anthony made a face and fell over, playing dead at the end of the episode, something Ian no longer did. There was a moment of silence.
"I hope this is a valuable lesson to you all about taking candy from strangers." Ian finally said to the camera, fake smile now gone from his face, as he was too tired to pretend now. "Thanks for watching, leave a suggestion for Ian is Bored down below, even though we won't do it. Bye, bitch!"
Anthony laughed a little as Ian turned off the camera. In a comfortable (but tired) silence, they cleaned up what was left after the episode, Ian remaining seated the entire time. As Anthony stood and placed the camera on the table, Ian was reminded of what he needed to say.
"Oh, hey, no filming this week, it's July fourth on Wednesday." Ian insisted with a smile, but he was actually just too sick to pretend in front of the crew.
"Oh yeah, I got it." Anthony smiled back, though with worry and uncertainty. "I think we've cleaned up pretty good, I'm gonna head home. See you later."
"Yeah, see you." Ian smiled at his friend, still on the ground, and watched Anthony walk out the door without another word.
Just one more week, Ian thought of the mail, desperation in his head. Just one more week.