Right Place, Right Time 4/5
Title: Right Place, Right Time
Author: lavenderpisha09
Pairings: Ian/Anthony
Rating: R
Genre: Angst
Summary: And thus starts an on-again, off-again relationship that lasts for ten years.
Author's Notes: For abisalilshit who wanted me to write a fic based on All Time Low’s “Tidal Waves”. She deserves a million apologies because this prompt is two months old already, and as always, I probably missed what she wanted me to write by, like, a mile or twenty. Also, I don't really know how this fic became this long. I swear this was meant to be maybe 3,000 words long.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Smosh. I don’t make money from this.
Part three here.
Twenty Six (Part 2)
Ian is exhausted.
They've just finished a shoot in the Smosh house, and now they're driving to Los Angeles. Ian would have stayed at his house, but there's a meeting with some of the Youtube executives the day after, and Ian and Anthony had already talked about Ian staying at Anthony and Kalel's apartment the night before, hence the driving.
It's about two hours in when Anthony starts talking about the wedding he and Kalel are trying to organize. And Ian-Ian is too tired for this shit, too exhausted to try and convince Anthony that he's happy for him when he's not. So when Anthony starts talking about Kalel's wedding dress, Ian opens his mouth.
“I'm still sort of in love with you,” Ian blurts out, and immediately he is hit by the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel.
The sun is setting, dark reds and oranges slowly being overcome by myriad shades of violet and blue. It's a wonderful day. Why the fuck didn't Ian keep his mouth shut?
The temperature inside the car might as well have dropped several degrees, with how still the air is. For a few moments, Ian finds it hard to breathe, finds it hard to keep his eyes on the road before him, finds it hard not to squeeze the steering wheel until his knuckles are white, finds it hard not to just fling himself out of the car while it's still moving 60 miles per hour.
Anthony is frozen beside him. Normally, Anthony is constantly moving, whether it's his fingers tapping against his lap or it's his head minutely moving as he tries to find a comfortable position against the headrest, but now, he is absolutely still. Ian is aware of this even through a single glance in Anthony's way.
Ian deflates. “I shouldn't have said that,” he says, his voice low and whisper-soft. In the stillness of the car, Anthony doesn't have to strain to hear what Ian just said.
This time, Ian doesn't have to force himself to look at the road before him, scared as he is to see Anthony's reaction.
Anthony clears his throat. “When were you planning on telling me?” Anthony asks, and his voice is small as well, as if he's afraid to shatter the silence that's enveloping them both.
Ian shakes his head and glances at Anthony for a short moment before focusing back on the road. “I wasn't planning on telling you, I promise,” he says, because it's important for Anthony to know that even if Ian clearly hasn't moved on, he's still doing his best to be worthy of being called Anthony's best friend, still doing his best to support Anthony in his decisions no matter what his personal opinion may be. Ian tries to ignore the way his heart is beating in double-time, but he can't quite do it, not when there isn't much of a distraction for him to get lost in.
Anthony nods slowly. “So you weren't planning on telling me.”
Is that the wrong answer? Anthony's tone tells Ian that he gave the wrong answer, that Anthony's this close to being properly angry.
Ian settles for the truth. “I wasn't,” he says. He wishes that he didn't open his mouth, wishes that he could have settled for driving while Anthony's talking as he rides shotgun, something that Ian is so very intimately familiar with. He wishes he hadn't snapped, wishes he could have this conversation with Anthony somewhere else, not while in a car as Ian is driving down the freeway.
His hands clench on the leather steering wheel. He forces himself to speak. It's a little bit like when he was 17 and telling himself that talking about this entire thing with Anthony will ultimately be beneficial to their friendship, and yet not quite. Not quite, because he knows that talking about this will open a can of worms.
Now, though, it's too late to back out. He has opened the can already. He might as well clean up the surroundings.
And really, it's impossible to clean up his mess without getting his hands dirty.
“I wasn't going to tell you, because I knew you had moved on. I mean, you met Kalel.” Ian swallows past the lump in his throat. “You found something for yourself. You were happy. I wasn't going to mess with that.”
“And you thought it would be a great time to tell me this now?” Anthony asks, and there it is, the layer of anger and frustration just beneath the tone of his voice, subtle, but nearly becoming anything but. Like the glittering blue of the ocean, Anthony's anger is the darker undercurrent, the waves preparing to rise beneath the surface.
Ian inhales sharply. He deflates, the anger that he wants to overcome him not quite coming because now, he knows he's in the wrong. “I'm sorry.”
“Fuck, Ian, you should be!” Anthony says, and the anger is there now, present and not even trying to hide itself. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn't be telling me this!”
And Ian-Ian is finally overcome by that tide of anger that he wanted to. “Well then what the fuck do you want me to do, huh? I told you that I didn't plan on telling you, and you got angry. Now that I'm actually telling you, you're angry again. What the fuck do you want?”
It's a rare show of anger. Usually, Ian would keep everything bottled up inside, would clamp his mouth shut, not wanting words to make their way past his lips, but now, anger shoots out of him like a geyser, exhausted as he is to even try and tamp everything down.
“I'm getting married!” Anthony shouts, frustrated, and Ian-
-Ian deflates, all the pent up anger disappearing from within him so quickly, he almost curls into himself at the feeling of this yawning emptiness inside him where the anger used to be.
He doesn't have to worry about the empty space, though. Soon enough, an extraordinary combination of wretchedness and sheer pain fill it, and Ian suddenly has to focus more on the road, has to try and ignore how it feels like there are cotton balls in his mouth, making it hard for him to try to speak, making it hard for him to try to explain.
Ian glances at Anthony. Anthony's looking out his window, his gaze somewhere far away from here, from them. His hands are clenched on his lap and he's absolutely still. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Ian returns his focus back on the road before him.
Anthony inhales sharpy, then releases his breath slowly. He's trying to calm himself. Ian has seen this happen plenty of times, but he was almost never the cause of it.
“I'm getting married.” Anthony laughs, self-deprecating. “Fuck, you're my best man, and you're telling me this. Now, of all times. Christ, Ian.”
Ian wants to joke. He wants to dispel this still, icy air between them, wants to say, “well, it could be worse-I could be telling you this right before you're about to wait by the altar for Kalel,” but he does neither of those. After all, no amount of perfume will be able to mask the scent of rotting flesh.
The only way to remove the odor is by cleaning up the place.
Ian bites his lip for a few seconds, thoughtful, before he finally asks, his voice soft and hesitating, “well, when would you have wanted me to tell you?”
Another laugh. It's sad and slightly spiteful, though Ian thinks it isn't meant to spite him, but rather to spite Anthony himself. “I don't know,” he says, truthful. “Before? Before I met Kalel? Before you met Melanie? Fuck, you're the one who broke us up!” Anthony shakes his head, glancing at Ian before looking back out the window. “You don't get to do this. You don't get to break a good thing and beg for me when I've finally moved on. You don't get to dictate all the rules. I won't let you.”
Ian feels like there are needles in his ribcage, feels like with every beat of his heart, the sharp metal sinks in even further, for all the pain that he's feeling. His mouth clamped shut, he focuses on the road.
God, and he's going to have to stay at Anthony and Kalel's apartment, going to have to try and pretend that everything's okay so soon after this explosive conversation. He's going to have to make nice, going to have to shut his eyes and ignore how Anthony and Kalel are lying together in bed just a few feet away from him.
“I'm not trying to,” Ian says softly, feeling just that bit ashamed of himself. He shouldn't have opened his mouth.
Anthony swallows, and in the stillness of the air between them, the sound is louder than it should have been. He thumps his head against the window. Outside, it starts to rain, water falling in small drops. Anthony inhales sharply. “I thought you've moved on.”
Ian chuckles sadly, glances at Anthony from the corner of his eyes. His hands clutch the steering wheel just that bit tighter. “I thought so too,” he says, honest.
Anthony closes his eyes. His head is still leaning against the window. “You thought? That's not good enough, Ian.”
Ian sighs. “I know. I'm sorry.”
Anthony doesn't reply.
The rain falls harder.
Twenty Six (Part 3)
Ian is ending the longest romantic relationship he's ever had, and yet neither of them are crying. Instead, there is relief bubbling just beneath his skin, and there is Melanie, smiling at him in understanding.
He should be sadder. They both should be, to be perfectly honest, and there should probably be tears. There aren't, though. This is just another testament to the fact that Melanie is too good for him.
“I'm sorry,” he says, and he does mean it. He's sorry that he couldn't be enough for Melanie, sorry that Melanie couldn't be enough for him even though she has been, in a way, more than enough as well at the same time. He's sorry that he's 26 and he still hasn't moved on from his best friend, sorry that Melanie's been put in second place when she shouldn't have been, sorry that he's wasted so much of her time.
The thing is, Ian could see himself loving Melanie, but only in a universe where he hadn't already met Anthony. And that's not this universe.
Melanie nods, still smiling in that sad way she does when she knows there's nothing she can do about something. “I understand,” she says, and Ian knows that she's saying the truth. She leans back and brings her legs up on the couch, sits with her back against the armrest, facing Ian. “I guess, I sort of knew, you know?”
Ian's eyebrows furrow. He does as she did, raising his legs up and planting his feet on the couch, sitting with his back against the armrest. He hugs his knees to his chest, fingers entwined. “What do you mean?”
Melanie shrugs. “You know,” she says, as if Ian has any idea about what she's trying to say, “you. Your thing. I mean, well, I know best friends don't look at their best friends the way you look at Anthony.”
Biting his lip, Ian avoids Melanie's gaze, his eyes running over everything in the room but her. In one corner of the living room, Daisy is on her way to falling asleep, eyelids fluttering shut as she rests her head on her front paws. “I'm sorry,” he finally says after a few more moments of silence. There isn't much he can say. Hell, he doesn't even know what to say.
Melanie shrugs. “It's okay.”
It's not okay. Ian knows she's hurt. She knows this would come eventually, though, so she's not hurting that much.
God, Ian feels even more like a douchebag.
“Please stop saying it's okay,” Ian says, quiet. Removing one hand from his legs, he brings it up and runs his fingers through his hair, his frustration making itself known to the world through that small movement. “God, Melanie, it's anything but okay.”
“What do you want me to do?” Melanie asks, genuinely curious. “Do you want me to shout at you? Be angry?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I'm not.” Melanie shakes her head. “Ian, honestly, I'm good. Well, as good as I can be considering that you just broke up with me.” At this, she gives a sad little laugh. “But, you know, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Is that bad?”
Ian cracks a smile. “I think so.” He doesn't want to say it out loud, but he's relieved that Melanie is just as clueless as him, that they're both just trying to find their way in the dark. “I thought you would cry, actually,” he admits.
Melanie laughs, throwing her head back. And oh, that's something, isn't it? Her laugh reminds Ian of a time way back when, when Ian had honestly thought he was happy with her. “Right. Do you still want me to cry? I can probably squeeze out a few tears,” Melanie says, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Fuck you,” Ian says, affectionate.
“Look,” Melanie says, removing her feet from the seat cushions and putting them back down on the ground as she sits back up, “I understand. I guess that all this time, I was just sort of waiting for this.”
Ian inhales deeply and slowly exhales. He sits beside Melanie once more, putting his feet back on the ground, his legs and hers side by side. “I'm sorry, Melanie. I really am.”
Melanie leans her head on Ian's shoulder. “I know.” A deep breath. “I'm guessing this means I'm going to move out.”
“You don't have to.” Ian owes her a lot of things. He's not about to go and kick her out of the house they both picked and worked hard on.
Melanie's hand come up to cover his on his lap. “I know that,” she says. Her hand is warm-it reminds Ian of that time when they were in Paris, their fingers entwined as they walked half-quickly, half-slowly, wanting to enjoy the sights and at the same time wanting to get indoors as quickly as possible. “I want to, though. I think I want to move back to New Jersey,” she says, hushed. “I left so many people there.”
She says it with no contempt in her voice. To her, it's just a simple fact, not something she can hold over Ian's head. She has given up so many things just to be with him here, and now he's ending their relationship. He feels bad, really, feels like he should just take it all back and kiss her and make up, but he knows it won't work. He knows that Melanie deserves someone better than him, knows that Melanie deserves something more than a one-sided relationship.
“You can have the furniture,” Ian says. He doesn't care much about the stuff-he can always buy new ones.
His eyes land on Daisy, peaceful as she sleeps. Ian chews on his lip. Now she will be hard to replace. “You can have Daisy,” he says, and it's painful. God, he's going to miss her.
“Nah, I'm good,” Melanie says, and Ian knows that she would be shaking her head if only she didn't have her head on Ian's shoulder. “I mean, I'm going to move into my parents for a while before I figure out what I'm going to do, so I really don't think I'll have space for the furniture. I would love to take Daisy, but I don't really know if there's space for her at the house.”
It's almost shameful, how relieved Ian feels. After this, Ian doesn't think he'll continue to live here. He'll move, he thinks, and it would be a lot better if he had someone with him in his new place.
“What about you?” Melanie asks, her voice soft. “What do you plan on doing?”
“I want to move too,” he says, honest. “I think it will feel too weird if I continued to stay here without you.”
Melanie hums in understanding. “Space will be good for us.”
Ian agrees. “I think so too.”
Melanie turns her hand over and holds Ian's, their fingers intertwining just like before. “Hey, loser?”
Smiling, Ian asks, “what?”
Melanie squeezes his hand. “Good luck, okay?”
Biting his lip, Ian leans his head on Melanie's. “Thanks,” he says, his voice a little broken. “You, too.”
Twenty Seven (Part 1)
Kalel and Anthony break up.
Like the proposal, Ian doesn't hear about the entire thing through Anthony. No, he learns about it the same way everyone else has-by watching the video. The video that, apparently, was posted one month after the exact date of the break up.
Ian really shouldn't be bothered that Anthony didn't tell him-after all, Anthony is entitled to have his own life, to have something that's just entirely his-but he is. Right now, as Ian gapes at his laptop screen, his hands are itching to reach for his phone and text Anthony. Something along the lines of “dude, wtf?” will probably do, he thinks.
Guilt starts gnawing on his insides when he realizes that hope is blooming anew in his chest. God, his best friend just broke up with his fiancee and here Ian is, already thinking about getting back together with Anthony.
He is seriously reaching new levels of pathetic.
Sighing, Ian lowers the lid of his laptop and puts it aside.
The move to Los Angeles was a good call. Ian and Melanie still talk to each other, texting one another when they're busy and calling whenever they have the time to do so, and to be honest, Ian likes it better this way. He and Melanie are even more of a better fit as friends, he thinks. Of course, getting to hang out with his best friend outside the office is another bonus-during that time when Ian had been living in Sacramento and Anthony had been living in Los Angeles, Ian had been struck by how much he had taken for granted the amount of time he got to spend with Anthony outside of work.
Daisy, probably sensing Ian's internal distress, pads over to him from the living room, before sitting down on her hind legs once she's in front of Ian and cocking her head to the side. Ian's eyebrows rise as he looks at his dog, an unbidden smile twisting his lips.
Leaning forward, Ian lightly scratches Daisy's head with one hand, his smile becoming gentler, softer.
No matter what happens, he'll still have Daisy.
Twenty Seven (Part 2)
It's evening, and Ian just opened the door to his house to find Anthony standing on the other side, looking just that bit uncertain. There are creases on his forehead, and his mouth is twisted in an unhappy line, worry shining clear in Anthony's eyes.
Ian blinks. “What's wrong?”
Anthony blinks, as if just now realizing where he actually is, and now that Ian has thought about it, he can see that Anthony looks a bit dazed, like he just mindlessly drove to Ian's house from wherever he was. Once Ian realizes this, the worry he feels curling in his gut becomes that much more intense, and he has to stop himself from putting his hand on Anthony's shoulder and physically bringing him inside the house.
Anthony shakes his head, the wavy hair bouncing with the motion. “Nothing,” he says, and Ian doesn't believe him. “Can I come in?”
Alarm bells start ringing in Ian's head. Anthony never asked before-he just sort of stepped into Ian's house whenever he wanted to. Now, Ian isn't quite sure what to do.
“Uh, sure,” Ian says, stepping back and letting Anthony slowly walk inside, his shoulders hunched and his gaze on the floor. Ian closes the door gently so as not to startle Anthony, taking his time to try and calm himself. He turns back around when he feels like he has more or less calmed down, and watches Anthony as he walks to the living room.
Itching to do something, Ian walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water. It's not often for him to see Anthony like this, and so he doesn't quite know what to do.
“Here,” Ian says as he sits beside Anthony on the couch. “Drink some water.”
Anthony accepts the glass of water wordlessly, taking a small sip before putting the glass of water on the coffee table. He takes a deep breath, as if preparing to say something, but then he exhales slowly, apparently having changed his mind. Sighing, he looks at Ian, something Ian can't quite name shining in his eyes.
Ian blinks, and it's in that small action when he realizes what it is that Anthony's trying to communicate to him with his eyes. He's pleading for Ian to understand, Ian realizes, but pleading for Ian to understand what, Ian doesn't quite know.
Ian has never been the one good at communicating between the two of them. The fact that Anthony is finding it hard to say what he's thinking isn't a good sign, and the fact that Anthony wants Ian to understand his wordless pleas is even worse.
Chewing on his lip, Ian looks everywhere but Anthony. Daisy is lying down with her head on her front paws in one corner of the room, brown eyes intent on Anthony. Sensing Ian's gaze on her, she looks at Ian instead and stands up on four paws, tilting her head as if to ask him what's wrong with Anthony.
Ian shrugs at her, before focusing back on Anthony. “Do you want to stay the night here?” Ian asks, because he might not know what Anthony's trying to tell him, but he does know that coming home to an empty apartment is something he would want to lessen experiencing as much as possible. Of course, Anthony has Pip in the same way that Ian has Daisy, but Ian knows that Anthony, being the one who more often craves human companionship, still finds it hard not to have any human being to come home to.
Anthony nods, relief evident on his features, and Ian smiles. At least Anthony looks a little better than before.
“Come on,” Ian says as he stands up, waiting for Anthony to do the same before walking to the guest room.
Having three bedrooms in the house, Ian had gone and designated a guest room even though he wasn't really the sort of person to have a ton of people staying at his home. At the beginning, he didn't really care about what he would do with the extra room-he had already figured out that one room would be converted into an office of sorts-but now, Ian is pretty thankful that he has a guest room, considering just how many times Anthony has stayed over, though the guest room is really less “guest room” and more “Anthony's room”. If Ian were to think really hard about the entire thing, he'll realize that there is a sense of codependency between him and Anthony that he doesn't think anyone else will be able change, regardless of whether or not that person is a future wife or husband, but that's only if he thinks really hard about it. And right now, he's trying not to think hard about it, because it's exactly the kind of thing that will keep him up at night, the kind of thing that will make him think about both past and future at the same time, the kind of thing that will make him remember how Anthony has a few items of clothing in the guest room's closet, because even after all this time, they still haven't figured how to live without the other.
So yeah, he's not going to think about that. Instead, Ian opens the door to the guest room and walks in, watching as Anthony sits down on the bed, one hand coming up to lightly scratch Daisy's head when she jumps onto the bed with him.
“Are you going to be okay?” Ian asks, leaning against the wall.
Anthony looks up from Daisy. He seems...lost, somehow. He nods. “I'll be okay,” he says, soft.
Nodding, Ian pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk to the door, calling Daisy. Hearing him call her name, Daisy immediately jumps off the bed and runs out the door.
“Hey, Ian?”
Ian pauses in the doorway, turning around to look at Anthony. “Yeah?”
Anthony offers him a soft, if slightly wavering, smile. “Thanks.”
Anthony's not just thanking him for the room, he knows, but Ian can't, for the life of him, figure out what exactly it is that Anthony's thanking him for. It's making him feel a little frustrated, but he's careful not to show Anthony the frustration he feels. “No problem,” he says instead, before walking out and closing the door behind him.
The urge to slide down the wall and just sit there is strong, but Ian resists it, walking instead to his own bedroom, where Daisy already is.
Part five here.