Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ian walks through those doors he knows awfully well and sits down at his usual spot in the still quiet bar.

The bartender gives him a quick nod. "One moment, Ian. Just finishing up someone else's order," he says. 

"Sure, Barney, take your time," Ian responds lazily. 

"What can I get for you?" Barney asks him. 

"Whatever you have on draft," Ian responds. 

"We just got IPA delivered. Want that, my guy?" 

"Yeah, sure," Ian responds. 

While Barney gets him the beer, he looks around. 

"Is that a new painting over there? I like it," Ian says, a little suspicious of the fact that he hasn't seen it before, since he is here at least 3 times a week lately. 

"Here's your IPA. Yeah, it is. We got it last Wednesday. I got to say, not really my style man, a little too abstract I guess... But it's great you like it. You're here as much as I am, if not more," he said, laughing at his own joke. 

Barney's about to walk off when Ian stops him, "Wait, man. That doesn't make any sense. If you got it last Wednesday and I was here Thursday, then I should have seen it, right? Why do I only notice it now?" 

Barney looks at him a little confused, "Man, really? You really can't remem... Oh, okay, I see it now. Your acting skills go beyond, man! Like you really got me there, I'm impressed," he says, laughing like any of this was even just a little funny about all this. 

"Barney, I'm not kidding... I really haven't seen this painting before, and it's big! Way too big to miss! Please tell me what the fuck is going on," Ian said, sounding more desperate than he had intended to. 

"Ian, are you, like... Are you alright? You seem a little pale. Want some water?" As Barney was getting more concerned, Ian started to get frustrated. 

"Yes, Barney, I'm fine, I just need to know why the fuck I can't remember the damn painting! Or anything from that night, actually..." 

Barney looked a little shocked by the unexpected aggression, as Ian normally never talks like this. 

"Hey, man. Calm down, okay? If you raise your voice again, I will have to throw you out, just so you know," he said, warning Ian. 

Then, after seeing the irritation on Ian's face, he continues, "So, if I'm understanding this correctly, you really don't know anything about Thursday anymore?"

Ian, not wanting to waste any more time on this stupid conversation, just gave him a nod. 

"Well, I mean. I knew you had been drinking before coming here, but it was only 8 pm. I really didn't realise you were that far gone, or I would have never served you." 

"It all makes sense now," Ian says, more to himself than to Barney. "I woke up with a hickey... Barney, did you see me with a girl by any chance?" 

"Look, man, it was real damn busy. Way busier than ever before, and Charlotte had called in sick, so I had my hands full." 

"So you can't tell me anything? Come on, man, I'm so regular, I see you more often than I see my close friends..." 

"It's not that I saw nothing. No matter how busy I am, I still see everything that happens in this bar. It would be dangerous if I didn't people can do some crazy shit when they're drunk." Barney thought about that for a few seconds, then uttered the bizarre words: "You could call me God. At least, of this place." 

"Jesus Christ, man! You're out of your damn mind. But come on, this is serious. I have forgotten a full night and didn't even know I forgot it... because I woke up in my own bed..." Ian realised. 

Barney was about to walk away to help the next customer, done with his unproductive conversation with Ian. 

"Barney, BARNEY! Come on, man, I know you got shit to do, but the least you could do is inform me about what happened. I have the right to know about my own actions. Besides, you owe me." Barney doesn't owe him shit, but that isn't the point. 

He needed to know what he had done that night, and more importantly, where the damn hickey came from. Why didn't he question that before? Was he really that busy that he didn't even have time to question a hickey? 

"Barney, please. I need to know, or I'll go crazy. I think I'm already going crazy. I think I've been going crazy for months, now that Defy disappeared and the role I had to take on to keep the company alive. Barney, I think I've been going crazy for years now, been going crazy ever since Anthony left. Ever since he left, I have felt a void, felt empty, felt... depressed," Ian continued, voice soft now, almost a whisper. 

Barney knows Ian is being sincere and isn't just trying to guilt-trip him into telling him. He knows how hard it has been for Ian, and recognises the change in his voice. 

Recognises it from all the times he got to a point of drunkenness where he would get emotional and trauma-dump on whoever would listen. And Barney knew it meant Ian was being serious, being vulnerable. 

So he gives in. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the talk he's about to have, and finally turns to face Ian, "Man, let me tell you what happened that night." 

"Really? Oh, Barney, please do!"

"Come on, to that table over there. Evelyn, take the bar, will you?!” He yells to his coworker before walking off with the younger man.

“I know it looks a bit dark and gloomy, but people judge too quickly. It is the best spot there is. It's close, but not too close to the speakers, and far enough from the door that you don't get a blast of cold air every time someone walks in or out. Plus, you get some peace and privacy because nobody wants to sit near it." 

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it," Ian said earnestly.

They sit down opposite each other, Ian looking expectantly at his friend, waiting for him to say something.

Barney sighs, looks up into Ian's eyes and says: "I did see you with someone that night."

Chapter Text

“Ah, great start. You already lied,” Ian said sarcastically. 

“No, I didn't, you just asked the wrong question,” Barney explained calmly, hoping Ian might catch on to the obvious point he's trying to make.

Ian did not catch on and got even more confused. “Stop trying to be mysterious and poetic and talk already.”

This whole thing was making him very nervous; however, he couldn't even think of anything that might have happened that night that would require him to be this nervous about. What could Barney possibly be so scared to tell him?

“Okay, I will tell you if you want me to, but you can't blame me for the emotional damage.”

“That's not really helping you know? Right now, I'm pretty damn sure the buildup and the stress of not knowing are worse than whatever the truthmay be. But sure, wait longer. Maybe also tease some more. I have all the time in the world. Good thing I don't have any big responsibilities like running a damn business!”

“Fine. No, you weren't with a girl Thursday night. Yes, it is a hickey. You hooked up with a guy you met at the bar.”

“He ordered you a drink, and you guys started talking, flirting. You guys really seemed to have a great time. You clearly liked him a lot!”

“So when he asked you to dance with him, you took the last few sips of your vodka and took his hand, smiling from ear to ear.”

“You guys, while dancing, were staring into each other's eyes the whole time, making each other laugh and complimenting each other until one of you would giggle like a teenage girl.”

Ian felt even more mad after finally getting what he asked for, mostly because it didn't make any sense. He let out a small chuckle of disbelief at the ridiculous conversation. "I don't know if you just really like fucking with my head or if you're just bored and wanted some entertainment or some shit, but… This is what you were so damn secretive about?! This is what you've been holding onto all this time?! I thought you were gonna tell me I murdered a man, or was hallucinating or some shit. Like, I didn't know I was gay, but damn, you can overreact like crazy, you fucker. Ever considered a job as an actor? You would excel at dramatic reading." 

“If you wanted me to tell the story, then let me fucking tell it.”

Ian put his hands in the air as if he were being arrested, “Okay.” Ian says. Then he pretends to zip his mouth shut, locking it up at the end and throwing the imaginary key away, looking like a 7-year-old.

Barney was about to roll his eyes and comment on his childlike behaviour, but instead decided to ignore it, not wanting to get Ian any more upset or annoying than he already was.

 “At some point, I see you getting a little closer. Still dancing, but now you're basically grinding against him. And then you guys start making out. Not long after, I see you dragging him off the dancefloor to a quieter corner to kiss some more. That must have been when you got the hickey." 

Barney stopped for a moment, staring at the painting hanging behind Ian. 

"What happens next? How did I get home? Did he get home with me? Who's the guy?”

"Somewhere around that time, a big entourage came in, all wearing some crazy Wild West themed costumes, so I lost track of you.”

“Until I, about half an hour later, went for a smoke break. I overheard someone, who was, though trying to hide it, clearly angry, talk about how ‘it wasn't fair,’ something about it being half a decade ago, and some other stuff I couldn't quite understand.”

“But since they couldn't see me and I could use the distraction, I walked a little closer, making sure they couldn't see me, but I could hear them a little clearer.”

“Then I heard your voice. Screaming at the man. So angry and so drunk that you were barely understandable. But knowing you and how you usually handle aggression, I knew you wouldn't just yell at a stranger, so you guys clearly had a history.” 

“I couldn't make out what exactly the thing was that you were mad about, but it honestly didn't really sound like you knew that yourself.”

“And while I was about to throw my cigarette on the ground to go back inside, I heard you make sobbing noises, followed by a hard smack. And then just silence.”

“Neither of you made any sound for the first time that night.” Barney stopped talking for a second, giving Ian some time to process all that he had told him so far. 

Then, after seeing Ian's facial expression turn a little less confused, and more like his expression from earlier, Barney continued. 

“After a few moments of you guys just standing there, not making a sound, the silence was finally broken. ‘I'll call you an Uber,’ the other man had said.”

“That's when I walked away so you wouldn't see me snooping around like that. The last thing I heard was you desperately trying to apologise a few times before I opened the door and could hear nothing except for the noise of an overfull bar around midnight.”

Ian stayed still for a minute, unsure what to say. So Barney went on with his story. 

“A few minutes later, I saw you stepping into an Uber. Alone.”

“And even though it took me some time to realise it. I'm pretty damn sure the man you were talking to that night was Anthony Padilla, wasn't it?”

Chapter Text

That one word, or name to be more precise, would (under other circumstances, where he didn't have to run a company, and actually had the time to have medical issues) be enough to put Ian in a coma.

How could it possibly have been Anthony?

They hadn't talked in over half a decade. He didn't even know he lived near here.

God, he hadn't even known he was gay. Or bi or whatever. And they had been friends for years before they had drifted apart. Years before starting YouTube, even.

Though, to be fair, he hadn't even known he was gay (or whatever) himself until just now.

Barney looked at his still unresponsive friend.

Ian didn't know what to think or say anymore, so he stood up, wanting to move his body. 

Ian began pacing through the room, deep in his own thoughts. He did that until eventually he was standing right in front of the painting, his feet automatically bringing him there. Almost like it had some sort of gravity of its own, pulling Ian closer.

After a few minutes of him just staring at the painting, he heard footsteps come closer, then when they stopped, he felt a hand on his shoulder, finally pulling him back to reality.

"You know who made us this painting?" Ian shook his head, unsure how he could possibly know, but definitely curious who could make something so majestic and beautiful. 

"Anthony made it for us. Or actually, he made it for you."

That made Ian turn around, "F-for... For me? He made this for me?" 

"Yes, Ian, he certainly did."

"He'd never been here before. Walked in, looked around, and told me he'd made a painting. He seemed a little uncertain, or maybe insecure? He had said we could hang it up if we wanted. I remember him quickly adding, 'Or not! Which, of course is fine too,' so scared I would feel pressured or forced to," Barney let out a low laugh. 

"When I had asked him how much it would cost me, he had quickly told me he didn’t want anything for it, just felt inspired and got to work. I like how that guy's thinking. He's a fine young man."

Then, all of a sudden, Ian can remember it again. He can remember Anthony telling him that same exact story, which then led to their first kiss.

"Ian? Hey, Ian!? Are you alright?" Barney says in a worried voice. 

"I can remember it now, I can remember what happened on Thursday night." Which, to be fair, was kind of an overstatement. But Ian did have flashbacks. 

Flashbacks in which he mostly just saw Anthony's beautiful face laughing at him. So, at least some of his memories were coming back, but only visuals, no sounds, no smells, no memory of how he felt. 

Then there's a memory of Ian and Anthony dancing. This was the part Barney had already told him about. The part where Anthony stood close behind him, hands firm on his hips, their bodies moving together without thinking.

Why did he ruin something so hot, so great, and so beautiful? What was he even mad about? 

Although it seemed like it was about something that had happened years ago, or at least, from the things Barney had said, it sounded like that, but Ian wasn't mad about all that anymore. 

And Ian wasn't one to yell, just for the yelling. He always had a good reason to do it, or he would just talk at a normal volume.

It also didn't seem likely that Anthony had already gotten him pissed off about something after just a few hours of them spending time together. Especially when you consider how sweet and flirty they had been to each other.

So… what other reason could there be? 

Was it the alcohol? He did have a lot of it in his system that night, so that could be the case. But he had never gotten aggressive because of alcohol before, so that didn't seem to fit either.

Maybe Barney was just making this all up, or maybe this is just some kind of fucked up prank. But Ian knew it wasn't. He knew Barney would never do that, or at least come clean the moment he sees Ian freak out, which he clearly is.

Could it be that there never was a reason? That it was just suppressed emotions coming to the surface, triggered by the stress he had felt lately. But then still, it wouldn't justify using Anthony as an outlet for his own internal wreckage. He still had no good reason to start a fight. And like he had just said, Ian wouldn't explode over nothing… right?

He needed to talk to Anthony. Needed to see him, to see his beautiful face. And needed to make things right, whatever their fight had been about. 

He couldn't lose him. Not again.

Chapter Text

Ian turned around, murmured something to himself and walked off to the front door. 

“Ian! Ian, wait, where are you going?!” Barney yelled, but Ian was too concentrated on getting to the door without fainting, screaming or having a panic attack that he didn’t hear what Barney was saying and just kept walking.

Ian kept on walking until he finally got to his car. He quickly opened the door to the back seat and sat down, his mind racing, his breath racing almost as fast. 

And even though he just said it wasn’t a big deal, that he liked men, it kind of was. Not that he felt any internalised homophobia whatsoever, and he knew that his friends, coworkers and fans would be totally cool about it, but damn. He had never thought of himself as anything other than straight, but now he had no idea what he was. One could say he was having a proper, full-on gay crisis!

And weirdly enough, he just starts laughing. He starts laughing hysterically and can’t stop. He feels so overwhelmed by his own mind and all the emotions he has felt in the last hour or so. 

He takes a few deep breaths, and after a minute or so, his breathing returns to normal, and finally, he has stopped laughing.

Okay, so let’s try to get a grip on all that has happened just now and let's see what the logical next step would be.

First, he found out he had forgotten an entire night, and with that, he now sees how problematic his life has been lately, that he had no idea and just lived on without questioning it, but that's for another day.

Then he learned he had hooked up with a man for the first time in his life, which was some fun new information. And not long after, he learned that the man in question was his ex best friend, whom he hadn’t talked to in about seven years.

Lastly, he learns the reason he hadn’t heard from Anthony again was that at the end of the night, he had managed to start a fight, and had screamed at the other man and had, as it seems to be, slapped him in the face, which then led to an awkward silence followed by Ian apologising again and again and again until Anthony had had enough and had called an Uber for Ian to then never talk to him again. And he still had no idea what the fight even was about.

But it wasn’t all negative because now he at least had some part of his memory back, and maybe if he tried, he could get back some more.

Ian tried really hard to get back his memories from that night, and it was kind of working. He still had no idea what the fight was about, but he now has a pretty clear image of everything that had happened before that. 

He runs through everything he remembers from that night again, now in order of the events, seeing if he misses anything that could have possibly led to their fight, still not having found anything.

What happened on Thursday night:

Barney puts down a drink, right in front of Ian. 

“You giving away free drinks now?” Ian asks. 

“Not from me,” he nods his head towards the other side of the circular bar. “The kind man over there bought it for you,” Barney adds, smirking, giving Ian a wink before walking off. 

Ian looks over, surprised anyone would buy him a drink. 

He looks around, trying to find the man the drink came from, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

He quickly turns around to see those oh so familiar eyes. He hadn’t seen those in one hell of a time, but he immediately recognised them. 

“Oh my fucking god! Anthony!?! What a crazy coincidence! I haven’t seen you in forever, how are you doing?!” Ian said, enthusiastically, although still a little in shock at all that was happening. 

“Hey, man! I’m doing great! Greater now that I see you,” Anthony said while hugging Ian. “How about you? Like my drink?” 

“So you’re the nice man who bought me a drink. How generous of you,” Ian said in a bit of a playful, teasing voice. 

“Well, how could I not buy a drink for such a gorgeous-looking man, sitting on the other side of the bar. I had to shoot my shot,” Anthony teased back, “But really, you look great!”

That made Ian blush a little, so he quickly took a sip, not wanting to look at the man sitting beside him.

“So… You seeing anyone, or whatever?” Anthony asked, trynna be casual, but doing an awful job at being so.

“Nah. Haven’t been for some time now.” And even though Anthony really tried not to let it show, the relief in his eyes was clearly visible. “How about you?” Ian continues, a little doubtful.

“No. No, I haven’t been dating lately.”

“Cool. Yeah, that’s chill.” Ian answers, unsure what to say.

Anthony’s desperately looking for a way to let the awkwardness disappear when he hears their song, the song they went crazy on at prom. 

So Anthony jumps up from his seat. He half-bows in front of Ian, looks Ian in the eye, takes Ian’s hand and kisses it. 

Then he says, over-the-top formal, "This piece is quite sublime, and I confess, it demands to be danced to with a gentleman of your obvious grace. Would you do me the honour?"

Ian laughs a little, then responds with: “Well, if you insist,” and stands up.

They, still holding hands, walk towards the dance floor. Both had had enough to drink to not give a fuck about their surroundings and be able to go crazy. 

The dance floor was already pretty crowded, but as the next song came on, a slow dance, more people joined in. Ian and Anthony got pushed a little closer to each other. 

As Ian was about to suggest going back to the bar not to make things uncomfortable again, he felt Anthony get closer. Ian’s breath hitched with how close they were standing now.

Then, Ian felt Anthony’s arms slip around his waist. “Is that okay?” He asked.

“Yes,” is all Ian could get out. His cheeks getting as red as a tomato.

Ian put is arms over Anthony’s shoulders, as they swayed on the beat of the song.

“I have missed you so, so much, Ian,” Anthony whispers in his ear.

“I missed you a lot, too, Anthony,” Ian answers, “Smosh has been shit without you.”

At that, Anthony gives a small, humourless, low laugh, “That’s very sweet, but I’ve been keeping up with what you guys have been doing, and I know that’s a lie. You’re doing such a great job, Ian. Even though you probably can’t see that yourself. I just want you to know I’m so grateful you still had so much trust in smosh, even when I left. And, I know I did the right thing by leaving, but I should have been a better friend before and after I left. And I still think about this every day, how I fucked up. So, could you please give me a second chance and let me be in your life again?” Anthony looked up into Ian’s eyes, scared of what the brown-haired man in front of him would say.

Ian had gotten really quiet, mostly because he didn’t wanna cry on the dancefloor. And as Ian was still looking for words, he saw Anthony get more doubtful of his reaction, so instead of talking, Ian smiled at Anthony. Then, slowly came closer to his face and kissed him. He had never kissed a man before, and it felt kinda weird to feel another man’s facial hair instead of the soft skin of a woman, but it did feel right. 

Anthony quickly stepped back, in shock at what had just happened, “I… uh…”

“I’m so sorry I did that. I really shouldn’t have. I don’t even know why I did it. I just didn’t know what to say, so I just kissed you. And I’m so, so, so sorry I did, because I do want you in my life. But if you never wanna see me again, then I totally understand.” Ian was ranting, his eyes looking everywhere but at Anthony. Embarrassed of what he had done, of how stupid he had been.

But all Anthony did was kiss him back even harder than before. Anthony’s hands resting on Ian’s hips.

That’s where the memory ends, and it all gets blurry again.

It kind of made sense he could remember those moments the best since he was the least drunk when that had happened, but he really wanted to know what had led to him exploding and even hurting his… his what? Ex best friend? Again friend? More than a friend? Or maybe the fight had ruined it all and made them strangers again? Or even enemies?! 

Let’s not worry about that now. The point is, he got so mad that he yelled and slapped Anthony, and he still doesn’t know why that is. And momentarily, he only sees one possible way to find out and fix this… He needs to talk to Anthony, even though he really doesn’t want to.

Chapter Text

Ian needs to talk to Anthony. He wants to talk to him, but at the same time, he desperately doesn’t. He is terrified of how Anthony might react, and even more terrified of what would happen to him if this ended with them never speaking again.

What if Anthony had only acted the way he did on Thursday because of their history? What if everything that happened that night had been born out of nostalgia and far too much alcohol, and nothing more? What if this had simply been the closure Anthony needed in order to finally move on?

Or maybe Anthony had truly felt the same indescribable thing Ian had, and Ian had simply ruined it with his outburst. Maybe the fight had shown Anthony the truth. Maybe it had snapped him out of the dream that things could be like they were all those years ago, and forced him to see that Ian had changed. That Ian was no longer the naïve boy Anthony once knew. Maybe the fight had shown Anthony just how imperfect Ian really was, and maybe Ian’s good side simply hadn’t outweighed his ugly one.

If he was honest with himself, that sounded far too likely, but he had to stop spiralling and just do what needed to be done. No matter how this ended, he couldn’t leave all these years of (both attracting and repulsing) tension unresolved. He simply couldn’t live with that.

Even if it meant being rejected, which might lead to depression and most likely burnout, at least he would finally have an ending. And if nothing else, he would at least have a story to tell, even if it was only to entertain people back home. Besides, people always say trauma makes you funny, so in some twisted way, it might even improve his life. He just wasn’t sure yet whether that improvement would be personal or professional.

Hadn’t he just said he would stop thinking for one second and just do?

He decided to turn the radio on and make it loud enough to drown out his own thoughts. It didn’t matter what played, as long as it was the only thing he could hear.

Ian turned on the radio, selecting the first station he recognised, while simultaneously opening his phone to search for Anthony’s address.

The first thing that came on was a slow, melancholic piano song he recognises, but what was the name again? "Small-town boy in a big arcade." Ah, that's right, Arcade. Who sang this again? "Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh." Donnie or some shit. De- Da- Dave? Danny? No, that’s not it. Du- Du-... Duncan? Like... Duncan Donuts? "Loving you is a losing game." Right, Duncan Laurence. Fucking hell, great timing, man.

He couldn’t handle that right now, so he quickly switched stations, hoping for something a little less depressing. Thankfully, the next song fit what he was looking for much better.

He didn’t recognise the song, but he liked its jazzy, funky, Gen-Z type of vibe. Not that he fully knew what that meant, but who cared. It’s art, you don’t have to understand it to like it. He had never listened to this station before, but it might just become his new favourite.

He returned to his stalking research, which, luckily, was done in no time. Sometimes it’s pretty convenient to be an online figure in an era where there are so many creepy people online, you barely have to do any of the stalking yourself.

He typed the address into the built-in GPS system in his car. Only twenty minutes. He could do that... right?

No. No, he could not sit in a car for twenty minutes without getting so distracted by Anthony that he became a borderline traffic hazard. It took six different cars honking at him to pull him out of his daydream about every possible way their conversation could end. He kept weighing positive and negative outcomes, trying to decide which one was most realistic. Well... the future didn’t look particularly bright for poor little Ian.

So he kept turning the music up whenever he caught himself drifting into his thoughts.

Somewhere, he had once read that if you forced yourself to smile long enough, you would eventually start to feel happier. So that’s exactly what he did.

He kept smiling, even though it began to hurt and felt completely unnatural, but against all odds, it actually seemed to work. Maybe it was just a placebo effect, but he didn’t care. He managed to keep driving, and right now, that was all that mattered.

He wasn’t going to stop until he was standing right in front of Anthony’s fucking house! Then he would walk up to the door, ring the bell, pray Anthony was home, and pray even harder that their conversation somehow ended well.

“You have arrived.”

He made it. Finally.
Okay, so now he just had to walk up to the door, ring the bell, and hope for the best.

“Okay,” Ian muttered to himself. “Alright, you’ve got this, Ian.”

Ian takes a deep breath and finally steps out of the car. He pulls his phone from his back pocket to check the address one last time, then walks up to the door and presses the doorbell the moment he can reach it, before he can talk himself out of it. He can’t quit now, not now that he has come this far.

He felt dizzy, slightly nauseous and like a thousand butterflies had just spawned in his stomach. But he did it. He fucking did that shit!

As long as he didn’t faint or run away, he should be good.

Now came the next step, praying Anthony was home, because Ian was certain he would never find this kind of courage again.

“Come on,” Ian murmured. “Please open the damn door.”

Just as Ian was about to give up and cry himself to sleep, he heard faint shuffling from the other side of the door.

And then the door opened.

For a second, or maybe much longer than that, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. It was like the world around them suddenly turned down in volume, the background noise fading into something distant and meaningless.

Ian’s breath got stuck somewhere in his chest the moment he saw Anthony standing there, real, solid, and only a few steps away from him. Not a memory, not a story Barney had told him, not a face in an old photo, but him. Right there. In front of him.

Anthony, on the other hand, looked like he had just been hit by a lightning bolt. His eyes widened, his body going completely still in the doorway, like he didn’t quite trust that what he was seeing was actually happening. After days of replaying Thursday night in his head, of wondering what Ian must think of him, of assuming he’d never see him again... there Ian was. On his doorstep.

And yet, despite all the shock and confusion crashing through Anthony at once, something softer took over almost immediately. His gaze softened, drifting over Ian’s face like he was trying to take in every detail, the same way you look at someone you care about deeply after you’ve been apart for too long.

For Ian, the moment felt stretched thin, like time had slowed to a crawl. Everything else, the car, the street, his racing thoughts, even the chaotic mess of Thursday night, fell away. All that existed was Anthony’s eyes on him, and his on Anthony.

They just stood there, caught in that impossible, breathless space between past and present, between everything that had broken and everything that still lingered between them. A single, charged moment where neither of them knew what would come next, but both of them knew, without saying a word, that something between them had shifted in a way that could never fully be undone.

After a few seconds of complete silence, Ian finally let out a quiet, breathless “Hi...”

Chapter Text

“Come on. Let’s get inside, alright? It’s cold out.” Anthony gestures with his hand for Ian to follow him.

Ian nods and follows the other man through the door.

His house was just like him. Interesting, artistic, giving horror movie, while at the same time looking inviting and friendly. 

“Over here.” Anthony opens a door that leads into a big, spacious living room.

“Sit wherever you want. Couch or chair. Make yourself comfortable. Want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine, thanks.”

Anthony nods and disappears into the kitchen.

Ian looks around the room. There’s so much to see, it’s like a Pinterest board brought to life. Paintings covered the walls, little sculptures and strange decorations filled every shelf.

He steps closer to the mantelpiece and picks up one of the objects displayed there, a small porcelain elephant.

When he hears footsteps approaching, he quickly places it back exactly where it had been. He doesn’t want Anthony to think he was snooping around.

Like, he was, but Athony didn’t need to know that.

They sat down on the couch. For a moment, the silence between them felt awkward. Both of them were new to this strange dynamic they suddenly found themselves in.

But Ian couldn’t keep pretending anymore. So finally, he broke.

He stopped trying to keep this casual. Keep it light-hearted. 

Because it’s not.

And he can’t run away from it anymore. He just has to face it.

So he starts talking.

Ian didn’t think about what he was saying. He didn’t plan his words or worry if the story made sense.

He just said whatever came to mind.

There was no clear beginning or end to the story. No order. No structure.

Eventually, he began talking about Smosh.

Ian started telling him about all the stress Smosh had put on him, the pressure he had felt.

About everything that had happened after Anthony left.

He explained how he had thrown himself completely into the company. Looking back, he had simply been too busy, too stuck, and too scared of losing Smosh. 

The responsibility for its success had felt entirely his, and somewhere along the way, he had started putting Smosh first, second, and third, while his own needs barely made the list at all.

His mental health? His physical health?

Those things weren’t part of the picture anymore.

Other people had to remind him to go home after long days, to relax for once, to stop obsessively refreshing the YouTube statistics.

They kept telling him he didn’t have to worry about every tiny detail of the complicated machine the company had become. Even as president, he didn’t have to be Smosh.

And when he wasn’t—when he was sent home for the night, when the work stopped and he had to exist as a normal human being—he didn’t know what he was anymore. Who he was.

Because he had stopped being Ian a long time ago. Ian was just… gone.

When it got to the point where he felt completely lost whenever he wasn’t in the office working his ass off, he started doing the only thing that still felt right: continuing to be Smosh.

His colleagues might have sent him home, but he would simply continue there.

Checking the numbers. Refreshing statistics. Constantly busying himself with thoughts about the future of Smosh.

From that point on, his health and happiness declined quickly.

He wasn’t living like a person anymore. He was trying to be a machine. Just another part of the massive mechanism that was Smosh. Except this part never shut down.

And it was killing him. 

But things got even worse when there suddenly wasn’t any work left to do.

After pushing himself so hard for so long, eventually, the work was just done. There was nothing left to do. And without work, he felt like a useless mess.

As exhausting as it had been, the endless work had at least given the machine a purpose.

Sometimes it even gave him brief moments of joy. But once that stopped, he realised he had gone too deep; he couldn't return. He didn't know how to and didn’t have the strength to try. 

So he did what they all do. He turned to drinking. 

He's no alcoholic by any means, but there's no denying he abused it. 

By then, he knew he wasn’t doing well, but he didn’t know what he could do about it.

Didn’t even know that there was something he could do. 

So instead, he just went numb.

He still did everything that was expected of him, but he didn’t feel anything. Not a single thing. 

His work performance did a complete 180, and suddenly, he struggled to keep up. 

His coworkers had obviously seen how badly their boss had been doing for a while now, but the work had always been finished on time.

Now things weren’t getting done anymore, and they watched him get worse.

They didn’t really talk about it. At least not when he was around.

Except for a few attempts, mostly by Courtney, they didn't mention it, but all knew the situation couldn’t be ignored forever. 

Ian felt like he was stuck in a constant loop. 

He was never really present anymore. 

The machine was still there, doing what it was supposed to do.

But the part of him, somewhere deep down, that still was Ian wasn’t really alive anymore. Not quite dead, but not alive either.

At least, that’s what it felt like.

It felt like a coma. Or like sleep paralysis, but the other way around. 

His body still moved. Still brought him to work, to meetings, to wherever he needed to go. But his mind simply refused to cooperate.

Burnout.

He spent most of his days doing nothing.

Not the kind of nothing a bored teenager does in history class: staring out the window, sleeping, doodling in textbooks, whispering with friends. 

More like his body started doing things without him. 

Sometimes he managed to start something—opening his laptop, laying out the papers he needed—but the moment his brain actually had to do something, everything simply stopped. 

Every single time, he just sat there, confused.

It felt like his body was asking him questions.

“So… what now?”
“What do we write down?”
“What do we do?”

But there was never an answer.

Weeks passed like this, and almost nothing that was asked of him actually got done.

Still, nobody said anything about it.

Partly because his earlier overworking had more than made up for it, and partly because everyone knew the problem ran deeper than what was visible on the surface.

But there seemed to be an unspoken agreement not to talk about it directly.

All a little scared to speak up and all aware Ian wouldn't do anything about it anyway, seeing how overly obsessed he had been only weeks ago. 

If work had been bad, home was always worse.

He no longer had work to hold him together, so when he went home, there was nothing left to distract him.

The friends he used to have were gone. Most of them had left during his obsessive work period, moving on with their lives instead of waiting for Ian to get over himself. And Ian couldn’t even blame them, because they had tried.

They had tried to help him, but he had refused to admit that anything was wrong.

So eventually, he had pushed them out of his life.

So now he was just numb all the time. 

At work, feeling a deep, heavy exhaustion pressing down on him and at home, making sure he never had to face any of it—by going to the bar instead.

The same bar he always went to: Barney’s.

Not even so much to drink, well, of course, that too, but he was numb most of the time anyway, so it didn’t take much alcohol to push him into that fuzzy, detached mood. 

And once he reached that headspace, he started acting like the guy he used to be.

Smosh had taught him a lot about acting and characters, so he played the one character he knew best: himself.

And he didn’t even really know why.

It didn't exactly make him any happier, and it didn’t bring his old self back either.

If anything, it mostly just made him sad.

But what it did give him was something to hold on to.

A way to hold onto himself. 

Hold on to the person he used to be.

It showed him something he could return to someday. A goal.

Still, every time he went home after spending hours at the bar, he felt awful.

Like a failure. 

Pathetic. Disgusting. 

And yet he kept doing it anyway.

And the feelings he got afterwards got worse and worse, until eventually not only his mind but also his body began to slow down from the constant lack of sleep, but he still kept going back.

Like candy you couldn't stop eating.

Like a drug he had grown addicted to.

And every single time, in that moment, it felt worth it.

Holding on to the memory of who he used to be felt more important than actually fixing the real problem.

Instead, he was only digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole, fully aware of it, yet unable to stop.

Unable to ask for help. Because he believed he had already lost. 

He thought he was just counting down the days.

Holding on to the little bit of himself that still remained.

The small pieces of joy and love he could still feel. 

He had already given up.

And the worst part was that the next morning, he often couldn’t even remember what had happened the night before.

Not because of the alcohol, but because the memories didn’t feel like his.

They didn’t feel like his memories at all.

They felt like the memories of a naive, innocent man, full of life, laughter and bright ideas. 

Someone who didn’t resemble him at all. At least, not anymore.

That was old Ian, but he's dead now. 

And the memories of a dead man are gone. They die with him. 

They don’t belong to Ian. 

Aren’t his to replay in his head. 

Not his to smile about. 

They weren't with him, never were. 

Only the feeling he had felt after stayed with him. 

Those were the ones he was left to deal with.

Until this one beautiful man had bought me a drink. 

A man so handsome, so sexy, flirting with me. 

A man so kind, creative, and full of passion talked to me, laughed with me, danced with me. 

Then this man, the most perfect thing that had ever walked the earth, kissed me, and it felt like I had finally woken up from my coma. 

As if all youth and life had reblossomed in my chest, something I didn't think possible. 

It felt like the moment my eyes landed on you, I finally, for the first time in months, stopped digging my hole. 

I looked up from the hole I had been digging for years that had almost reached its end, almost reaching eternal nothingness, and for the first time in ages, I saw the light. 

I had been stuck in that pitch-dark hole for so long, always digging deeper, that I had forgotten what it even felt like to climb out.

Forgotten how the light felt. Forgotten how easy life could be. 

But when I finally looked up from my cave, I saw this beautiful angel glowing in the sky, brightening my world.

When you kissed me, it felt like being lifted into the air. Like you were holding me, and we were floating up, out of the dark, dark hole that suddenly didn’t seem all that dark anymore.

That night, I could once again feel happiness. 

Taste life. 

Feel inspiration, pride, glory. 

All the things that had once been only vague memories became vivid again.

And I never wanted to lose them. 

But I did. 

The next day, all was back to the way life had been before. 

I didn't even try remembering the night before, knowing those memories wouldn't be there anyway. 

Those weren’t mine. 

So the hickey I found on my neck that morning didn't belong to me either. 

I just went to work like usual, still telling people I was fine when they asked, even though everyone could clearly see I wasn’t. 

Except, as we now know, that morning I actually had a full night of my own to remember. 

To replay in my head. 

To smile about. 

I had accepted the lie I’d been living. I was somewhat satisfied with it.

But then, earlier this night, when I walked into the bar, slipping into character, unlocking the memories of the fun, playful person I stepped into, but didn't remember Thursday,  things slowly began to fall into place. 

Very slowly, and not before my whole world—both worlds—got even more fucked than they were before. 

And I began to wonder.

If this character wasn't here Thursday, then who was?

Chapter Text

Anthony listened closely, feeling deeply for Ian and everything he had gone through.

Ian paused for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts.

Trying to put words to everything he was feeling.

He was telling it like a story to Anthony, but in reality, he was only just figuring most of it out himself.

He had never really taken the time to look deep enough into his own mind to understand the problems buried there. But now that he had no choice but to speak the truth, he finally did, and, weirdly enough, it felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders.

Like he could finally breathe again. 

"You okay to continue, or do you need a break?" Anthony asked, his thumb gently caressing Ian's cheek.

Ian had felt so awful and trapped for such a long time. But now, with this wonderful man beside him on the couch, quietly listening without interrupting once, he finally felt like he had the space to just be.

Finally, he felt heard. Seen. Understood.

Felt like he was allowed to be exactly the way he was, fucked up, unhappy, in pain, and it was okay. 

He was allowed to talk about all of it. Anthony let him talk about it, wanted him to talk about it and listened. 

He was just there, encouraging him to speak his truth.

So Ian nodded. 

He was willing to continue. 

He wanted to. 

He felt safe to, which Ian hadn’t felt in such a long time. 

The moment I saw the painting, I knew it hadn’t been the character but the real me who had lived that night.

Even though it still took me a whole ass talk with Barney to really get it through me, the realisation had happened way before.

Anthony, I’m so sorry that night had to end the way it did. 

I’m so sorry you had to deal with my crash-out. 

I should have never gotten mad at you like that, because I wasn’t mad at you. 

I have no idea what got into me, what happened, because I’m not like that. You know that, right?

But even though I’m not sure what had gotten me so mad, I know it wasn’t you. 

It could never be you, because you were the happiest thing in my life that night. 

The happiest thing I’ve had in years. 

I’m so sorry you had to deal with all my shit, I really am. And I hate that I’m asking so much of you and can’t seem to just let go of you. 

But I can’t help it. 

Can’t stop myself from wanting you. 

From needing you.

And I know it’s unfair, so "no" is an answer too. 

A valid answer, really, but I had to give it a shot. 

Had to try. 

Couldn’t just give up on us.

Ian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then turned to Anthony again and looked into his eyes. 

Ian's hands were trembling, and a scared expression was on his face.

Anthony took Ian’s hands in his own, thumb brushing small, grounding circles. 

He gave Ian an encouraging smile and saw Ian relax more. 

Anthony then squeezed his hands. Ian squeezed back and finally found the courage to talk. 

“Anthony, do you think you could ever forgive me? Start over. Give me one last chance?”

Ian looked away now, not wanting Anthony to see how red he had gotten. To see that he was on the verge of tears.

Anthony smiled at that. How was this boy, even after all those years, still so cute? 

Most may say Ian is a totally different person from the one he used to be. That old Ian wasn’t the same person as he is now. And at first, Anthony thought that too. 

When he bought Ian that drink, it wasn’t even meant in a flirty way. He just wanted to say hello and catch up a little. 

But then he met Ian, new Ian. And never before has he fallen so hard for someone in less than 5 minutes. 

New Ian was just as cute as he used to be; that didn’t change one bit. But now he wasn’t just cute, now he was straight-up hot too. 

His voice had dropped a few octaves, he had a full-on beard now, and he had fixed his hair. 

But not only had his appearance undergone an upgrade, but his personality had undergone a great metamorphosis as well. 

He used to be seen as a dumb, innocent, curious, naive little boy. 

An extroverted optimist, excited for life and everything it had to offer. 

That's not who Ian is now. Not at all. Or at least not how he presented himself to the world. 

If you told people who had only been in his life in this last decade about always-smiling, passionate, creative teen Ian, they would most likely burst out laughing, and Anthony totally gets why they would. 

Anthony had been genuinely caught off guard when he talked to Ian that night and found none of the enthusiasm Ian used to radiate, none of that constant excitement over even the smallest things in life.

Anthony actually had doubted himself for a moment. 

It was the fact Ian's face (except for getting a lot hotter) hadn't really changed over the years, and the fact that he listened to the name "Ian". 

Otherwise, he would have seriously started doubting if that even was his Ian. 

Ian was now a wise, confident, charismatic, composed and sensible man. But he also was a cynical, pessimistic, depressed person, who wore his stress all over his face.

But unlike most people, Ian couldn’t fool Anthony. Even if the rest of the world couldn’t see it, Anthony knew the old Ian wasn’t dead. Just hidden behind walls and guards, and that grumpy old man persona. 

Locked away like Rapunzel in the highest tower, hidden from the world and all its pain. 

It's hidden well. 

So well, it seems like even Ian himself doesn't know it’s still up there, locked in the tower, quarantined from every aspect of existence. But Anthony can see right through the walls, right past those guards. 

When he looks deep into Ian's eyes, he can still see it. 

Can see the beautiful princess of a person Ian once was, looking longingly out the window. 

Anthony feels bad for her, being trapped up there all alone for years. Forgotten by the person who once locked her up. 

And nobody seems to hear her when she screams. 

Seems to see her in that dusty tower. 

She's still waiting for her Prince Charming to save her from this prison she didn't even deserve to be in, in the first place. 

But Anthony would save her. 

Would be her knight in shining armor. 

She just has to hold on a little longer. 

“Don't give up now, stay hopeful, and I promise I will make sure you're released once again.” 

“That you'll be shown to the world with pride like you used to be all those years ago.”

He just has to get Ian to believe, and before you know it, Rapunzel will be living freely once again. 

And if Anthony can help it, there will never be any walls, guards, or towers again. Anthony will protect Ian with everything he has, even if it costs him everything. He’ll be the one keeping Ian safe.

He just had to make sure Ian knew that, because it didn't seem like Ian had any idea how Anthony felt about any of this. 

And Anthony needs to make sure he won't be digging his hole again. 

Before he gets too far and gets to a point of no return. 

No light ever again, just never-ending dark. 

Never-ending nothingness.

Anthony felt a tear slide down his face and heard himself make an ugly, broken sound. 

He was crying. 

He felt disoriented and a little dizzy. 

His vision was blurred by the buildup of tears in his eyes. 

When he finally could see clearly again, he saw the beautiful man who had been stuck in Anthony's mind for days now. His head down, nervously playing with his hands, looking exhausted and scared.

Anthony found him so adorable. And he cares so much about him that it hurts to see him like this, clearly fighting his own demons, while Anthony was daydreaming about the wonderful man right in front of him. 

Anthony slowly lifted his hand to Ian's face and very gently let his thumb caress Ian's cheek a few times before letting his hand trail down a little until it was on the other man's jawbone, following it further down his face. 

When his hand had landed on his chin, he let it rest there before forcing Ian's face up to look at him. 

It wasn’t like he had to push it up, though, more like guiding it in the right direction.

Ian clearly felt a little uncomfortable being seen like this. Anthony could see by the way his eyes darted around the room, never quite landing on his.

"It's okay, darling." Anthony moved his hand back to the other's cheek so he could caress it again, hoping it would help calm Ian's nerves a little. 

"Ian, look at me," he said, affectionate yet stern.

The caresses did seem to calm him down a little, and finally Ian looked up into Anthony's eyes. 

Still, he wasn't quite at ease, but he didn't look as anxious as before, more so impatient.

"Ian, of course, I forgive you." 

Anthony immediately sees a weight lifted off Ian's shoulders, and all worry falls off his face and gets replaced with a shy little smile and a small twinkle in his eyes. 

"I see you, Rapunzel, don't you worry." 

"You do?" Ian asks, sounding genuinely surprised and sounding a lot like old Ian. 

"I hear you, Rapunzel. See, I told you I would save you!"

"How could I not? You're the most amazing person I know, Ian, and I'm so proud of you. 

Proud of you for your amazing job as President of Smosh, and I'm so proud you found the bravery to come to my house. 

Dare to face me after you've learned all that happened that night, then found the strength to tell all that has been going on in the last few years. 

Dare to share all of that with me, dare to be so vulnerable, dare to be so honest and open to me. 

That takes so much, I don't think I would've been brave enough if I were in your position."

Anthony then gets a lump in his throat and his eyes begin to tear up again, but he fights against the tears and continues, "I'm so happy that you are the way you are, someone who never gives up, who fights for what he wants..." 

Anthony gets cut off by a loud noise coming from Ian, who was sobbing now. 

"I-I'm s-sorry. I'm ug-gly-y cry-ying over he-here," Ian says between sobs and whimpers in.

"Oh, stop it! You're making me cry, too." Anthony says, but it doesn't matter anymore because he only gets through half the sentence before the tears begin to stream down his cheeks, too.

"Look at us. Two men in their mid-thirties, crying on the couch of a real-life Pinterest board decor-filled house." Ian snickered softly.

That made Anthony break too. 

Both men laughed and cried for a little while, until they both eventually fell quiet. Not an awkward silence, though, a relaxed one.

Anthony then opens his arms, the universal way of offering a hug, and Ian immediately falls into his friend's arms.

For a while, they just sit there, in a comfortable silence. They're softly rocking back and forth, while Anthony's playing with Ian's hair and Ian's drawing figures on Anthony's back with his finger. 

"Ian?" Anthony says after what must have been 15 minutes of complete silence. 

Anthony leans back a little. Not releasing Ian from the hug, just leaning back a little so he can look into Ian's beautiful blue eyes.

"Hmm?" Ian answers, now looking at him too, smiling kindly. Eyes looking open and friendly, ready for whatever Anthony has to say. Letting Anthony know he's listening.

Anthony takes a deep breath, gives Ian a small peck on the lips, and rests their foreheads together.

“I love you,” he says softly.

Ian immediately backs away and stands up from the couch. 

For a moment, Anthony starts to panic, but the moment he looks at Ian, all panic instantly leaves his body and mind. Disappearing even faster than it came. 

Ian was standing there, looking down at Anthony with the biggest smile he had ever seen in his entire life, of anyone. 

"Hey, Rapunzel. How does it feel to be back?"

"Do you really?" Ian asks enthusiastically, not a trace of doubt to be found in his voice.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone before. Always have." Ian's smile widens even more with that, if that's even possible. 

"I love you too!" Ian says, then visibly thinks about it. 

He then shakes his head and says, "No. I love you way more!"

"Oh, do you now?! Hmm, well, I'm sorry to break it to you, but that's quite literally impossible. I definitely love you more." Ian giggles at that, though trying to look offended, but failing awfully, which makes Anthony laugh even louder.

"Ahh, mister Padilla, how dare you even suggest such an utterly bizarre thing?!" Ian says, now totally getting in character, acting it out like it were an overly dramatic scene, hand on his chest, shocked expression on his face and his voice just slightly higher than usual. 

Ian was clearly enjoying himself, and Anthony certainly loved the show. "I for sure love you a thousand times more than you love me, boy."

"Now you've crossed the line, sir Hecox. How disrespectful of you, I can barely believe it! First of all, how dare you talk to me like that? I'm no boy, I'm a gentleman, and I won't accept any title lower than that." Anthony put on a rich person's voice and acted like he was smoking a cigar. 

Ian laughed, and Anthony could feel his heart quite literally melting at the angelic sound. 

"And second of all," Anthony continues, acting like one would when playing in a dramatic scene of a musical. "You've underestimated my powers, Hecox. I, Anthony ‘ambitious lover’ Padilla the third, love you, Ian ‘handsome’ Hecox the first, more than anyone has ever loved another ever before.”

They both then burst out in laughter and are unable to stop. 

"Alright, I give up. You win, gentlemen Padilla." Ian says, shaking Anthony's hand. 

"Thank you very much. Well played, sir Hecox." Anthony responds, before they both break out in laughter again.

They’re now drinking a beer, enjoying each other’s company. Anthony grins to himself, feeling a sense of victory and pride at the fact that he had freed Rapunzel. 

She’ll probably slip back into the cage once all of this excitement fades, but he’s just happy he got to see her. 

And next time, it’ll be easier to let her out, because now he has proof. Proof to show Ian that she’s still there, that they can get her past the walls and the guards.

All we have to do is make her feel safe, and soon enough, those walls will go down, and the guards won't be needed anymore.

Chapter Text

A few days have gone by since The Talk, and things have been great.

All they've been doing is getting to re-know each other and just hanging out together.

Ian has been feeling good about himself and has been feeling pretty optimistic about the future.

Ian's a little surprised by how well they still click together, even after all this time, but they really do.

He loves how they can just hang out together for hours on end, not saying a word, just existing, and it makes him feel the happiest he has felt in a long time.

The most alive he has felt in a while, even in those silent domestic moments.

And he knows Anthony's happy too, but he can't deny the fact that he can feel Anthony is withholding something from him.

Or maybe he’s scared of something?

Scared of the truth, perhaps?

Scared to break the wonderful bubble they’re living in, so he just acts like nothing’s up.

Like everything’s fine, when it’s not.

And Ian wanted to give him the space and time he needed, but he can see something is bothering him.

And he doesn’t want to push him, but he knows from personal experience that if you walk around with it too long, it’ll fuck you up.

He doesn’t want Anthony to get stuck in his head as Ian used to.

And still kind of does.

Anthony's happy for him. 

He really is, but he can't stop himself from worrying too.

Ian's still been under a lot of pressure for such a long time, and even though the pressure has lessened and the cause has turned into something positive, he still doesn’t let his mind take a breath.

Take a moment to actually process everything happening in his life. 

And eventually, that will lead to burnout.

Anthony's very happy at the way their relationship is right now, and he really doesn't want it to fall apart.

But for that to work, they have to put in the effort.

Which on Ian's side means he has to calm the fuck down, go on vacation and get in contact with a therapist.

Anthony's side is a little different. 

He pretty much just has to be there, in this relationship, and encourage and help Ian through life.

Easy enough.

Though he has another little task he has to do now.

He has to speak up.

Helping Ian wasn't just getting him from start to finish in his healing process. 

His job as boyfriend started before that.

Helping Ian take the first step.

Showing him he still has to fix things, no matter how amazing he has been feeling the last few days.

Urging him to find help to regulate his emotions and create healthy habits and actually get better, instead of living as long as he could off the high that was their relationship.

That's where Anthony really has to step up and make an effort for change.

If he ever wants his Rapunzel to actually break free and live without fear of being locked up again, then he has to do something.

Talk about his concerns.

Make sure Ian is as happy as he could possibly be.

Make sure he never has to see Ian the way he has.

But if he doesn't intervene, he knows he will have to see him like that again.

And to then try to fix things would be way harder than it is to do something now that he's still thinking straight. 

He just doesn't want to.

He's scared it will take him out of the high he's been riding on.

After all this time of suffering, he deserves the happiness he’s experiencing now.

And, it's a little selfish, but Anthony likes happy Ian so much.

He's obsessed with his laugh and seeing Rapunzel sparkle in his eyes.

But he knows he has to.

Knows Ian won't get better on his own.

And if Ian could be so brave and vulnerable just days ago, then he can do it too.

For Ian.

"I'm home!" Ian yells.

Anthony smiles.

He has been calling Anthony's house "home" the last few days, and it makes Anthony feel all warm inside.

Such a small thing, yet it feels so good to know he feels at peace here.

In his house, with him.

"In here!" He yells back.

Ian walks in, instantly walks up to his boyfriend and gives him a kiss.

He then sits down next to him, "Hey, baby," he says in a sweet voice.

"Hey," Anthony says, matching his energy as best he can.

It wasn't good enough, though, because Ian instantly recognises that something’s off.

"What's wrong?" He asks in a worried voice.

"I'm fine, it's just..." he begins, but doesn't find the right words.

Ian takes Anthony's hand in his own and gives him a supportive, approving nod.

"You're not," he says in a small voice, barely audible.

Ian did hear him, though.

He lets out an awkward little laugh, "Wha- I'm sorry, what?!" 

He feels a little off, sick almost.

"Ian, I know you think you're fine, you're not. And you have to do something about it before you fall back into the same bad place you were, barely a week ago."

"I know I wasn't alright, but now I am. I haven't felt this good in years, Anthony. Don't you get it? It's all good now."

"No! No, it's not, and I know it's hard to face that, mostly when you don't feel like something’s wrong, but if you keep going like this, keep running this hard, you will end up back where you started. And as your boyfriend, that's the last thing I want."

Ian was listening silently.

Slowly processing all his partner was telling him.

Ian's head felt numb.

Not like it had felt for so long, because it wasn't like he wasn't there at all.

But he wasn't quite in his body either.

It was like he was watching all of this go down from the outside.

As an observer, unbiased, subjectively.

And now, he could see what Anthony was saying.

Could take a step back, and it was painfully clear.

You couldn't just heal out of nowhere.

No matter how great a thing happened to you, healing took time.

Time he hasn't taken.

He then breaks down into tears.

"You're right," he gets out, just barely.

He then falls into his boyfriend's arms, who holds him tight.

"I do need help," he says in a weak voice and then starts crying even harder (than before).

"It's okay, let it all out. I know it's hard, but trust me, you'll be fine, really. I'll be right next to you, every step of the way. I promise."

And Ian cries into Anthony's shoulder, until there are no tears left to cry.

He has been running from all of his problems for so long.

Has ignored his emotions and refused to cry for such a long time.

And now all comes out at once, in the embrace of his boyfriend.

"I love you so much, Ian. You don't even know how much I love you. And I know you'll get through this. You're strong. Way stronger than me, but that doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. You’re just a human, with feelings and weaknesses too."

Ian nods, wipes his tears, and gives Anthony a small, watery smile.

"You're right," he says. "For the record, though, I love you more."

"I'm always right, and no, I love you more!"

"Well, usually, yes, but you're wrong about that! I love you impossibly much. Insufferably much. Too much. So much that I might have a heart attack! And then it's your fault."

"Oh, fuck you, you drama queen!" Anthony says, laughing.

"Yes, please," Ian says teasingly.

"Oh, you dirty-minded bitch. All you get is tickle death," Anthony says as he pushes Ian back, so Ian’s now lying on his back on their couch.

Their couch in their house.

Not officially, but there's no need for that, because it is theirs, period.

And as promised, Anthony tickles him until he screams it out of laughter and is begging for forgiveness.

"You win, you win! Have mercy, please!" He yells out, and finally Anthony stops tickling him, but he doesn't get off yet.

He leans in a little more.

"You're so pretty," he says.

Which makes Ian giggle, and his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red than they usually are.

They stay like that for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes, enjoying the view.

"Ugh, why are you just so breathtakingly hot!" Ian says in an annoyed voice.

"Oh, yeah, sounds like a real bad problem you got. Must be hard living with a hot boyfriend," Anthony says sarcastically.

"It is! I always have to worry if he won't get kidnapped for his great ass or worse, leave me for someone in his league!"

"Your boyfriend might be hot, but he has taken two karate classes a few years ago, so nobody is going to kidnap him. And for cheating, he's already dating the love of his life, who's way prettier than he could ever be, so he would be out of his mind to ruin what they got." 

"We really are one great-looking couple, aren't we?" Ian asks with a small grin, looking up into his partner's eyes.

Anthony gave him a kiss on the lips and answered, "Damn right we are."