The Secret Message
A fine misting drizzled down from the a dull gray expanse of sky. The gray muted all colors below, making the world a soupy, dreary mess. The whole atmosphere was simply depressing. It was just as depressing inside Anthony’s house, it didn’t help that every room was utterly silent, as Ian had taken a min-vacation to go visit his long-distance girlfriend.
Anthony lay on his side in his bed, unmoving, staring at the blank wall beside him. The room was completely dark, the only light was that which seeped in from a half-closed curtained window. And the little bit that leaked in had a bluish-gray tinge, it did nothing to brighten the room.
It was just one of those days were he was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. A common human occurrence. He felt this way not for any particular reason: Smosh stuff was going fine- he was doing a little more editing then he would have liked but that was nothing new. He hadn’t had any fight or disruption with his own girlfriend- he loved her as much as ever, and had no complaint towards her character or actions. Nothing in his life threatened to collapse under his feet. Everything was normal. It was just one of those days where he felt no inclination to pick up his head, let alone be productive or talk to anyone.
He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, muffled silence and strange apathy settling over him, suffocating him. He decided it was probably unhealthy to simply do nothing all day. It was dangerous to be left with one’s own thoughts for a long time. Plus, he realized suddenly, he hadn’t eaten in awhile. That was apt to happen to Anthony, he would get caught up in editing, shooting, planning, or- like today- doing nothing and he would forget his stomach. Never was his primary focus, unlike Ian. The fatty.
The thought of his goofy, food-obsessed best friend brought the tiniest semblance of a smile to his face. First one in awhile, unfortunately. It quickly fled from his mouth, however. He suspected nothing much could really cheer him up right now. Pulling himself out of bed, and trudging toward his door, Anthony tired to think about why he was so goddamned sad. These days sucked, when an emotion would hit you hard and unexpected, staying for as long as it damn well pleased and just refusing to leave.
He continued his trek through his door, down the carpeted hallway, across the floor, making his way to the fridge. The trip, however short, was arduous and painful. His shoulders were slumped, face pale and down turned. The fridge opened with a soft plunk and he surveyed the contents uninterestedly. Nothing looked good. He wasn’t really hungry, anyway. Instead, he reached for a can of Pepsi.
Removing the can, he saw a tiny scrap of paper flutter from the box holding the rest of the contained beverages. Confusion contorted his once stoic features as he stooped to scoop up the fallen paper. He unfolded it, revealing a half-sheet of printer paper that was torn at the bottom and covered in Ian’s scrawl.
Dearest Anthony,
CONGRATULATIONS. You found the secret message. Yeah. That’s it. What? Do you want a fucking prize? I dunno why I left this. Stop looking at me like I have a fourth nipple, do I need a reason, asshole? No. I’m Ian Hecox and I need no reason for my randomness- or epicness. Whichever you prefer to call it.
Well, I hope you know I miss your face. I mean, is that weird to say? Pfft, whatever. I do. We fucking live together, dude. Of course I miss you, what do you expect? Try to survive without me (who am I kidding, you’re probably ready to jump off a building without the best part of your life by your side)! I’ll see you soon, because- knowing you- you’ve forgotten to eat or drink and found this note days after I left it. Yeah, do I know you or what? Lemme give you a hint, I know you.
See you soon, man.
Forever, With an Intense and Undying Love that Burns True and Strong,
Ian Hecox
Surrounding the written words were a bunch of doodles, many of which were crude penises, boobs, little pokemon. Others came from the vast inside joke repertoire they had built up throughout the course of their over-a-decade-long friendship. Anthony traced the doodles with light fingertips as his lips turned up into a face-paining grin.
The little message was hilarious, and completely Ian. He could almost see Ian’s face if he said aloud the final, cheesy, homosexual line admitting his “undying love”. It would be exaggerated and hilarious, he would probably drop to one knee, his blue eyes shining with fake tears and hands cupping Anthony’s melodramatically. He would whisper the words soulfully, voice stuttering. Anthony barked out a laugh into the once depressing and silent house at the thought of the visual. They should throw that into a video one day.
Anthony felt like he was right there with him, teasing, joking, reprimanding him for forgetting to eat. If he was here, he would be his normal loud, comical self, making jokes and causing Anthony to double over with laughter. Still smiling to himself, he folded the note back up.
Anthony pulled out a box of cold, half-eaten pizza that Ian and him got out at some pizza place right before he left. His hunger had been roused suddenly, so he threw three pieces to heat up in microwave.
Pressing the timer, he looked down at the note once again. He noticed for the first time that Ian had drawn a series of little hearts in the very top corner of the paper. His smile grew, if that was even possible. He stuck the scrap in his pocket, planning on to later put it in the little box under his bed that held treasures from their years together as friends. Tiny little mementos that he would sometimes take out and simply reminisce over, memories flooding back to him and making him smile. This note would be the perfect addition.
Anthony grabbed the now hot pizza from the beeping microwave and took his place at their kitchen table. He patted the note that rested in his pocket. It reminded him that he should be happy, he wasn’t alone, it would always get better.
Yeah, he would be able to survive the next few days, Anthony decided.
Anthony lay on his side in his bed, unmoving, staring at the blank wall beside him. The room was completely dark, the only light was that which seeped in from a half-closed curtained window. And the little bit that leaked in had a bluish-gray tinge, it did nothing to brighten the room.
It was just one of those days were he was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. A common human occurrence. He felt this way not for any particular reason: Smosh stuff was going fine- he was doing a little more editing then he would have liked but that was nothing new. He hadn’t had any fight or disruption with his own girlfriend- he loved her as much as ever, and had no complaint towards her character or actions. Nothing in his life threatened to collapse under his feet. Everything was normal. It was just one of those days where he felt no inclination to pick up his head, let alone be productive or talk to anyone.
He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, muffled silence and strange apathy settling over him, suffocating him. He decided it was probably unhealthy to simply do nothing all day. It was dangerous to be left with one’s own thoughts for a long time. Plus, he realized suddenly, he hadn’t eaten in awhile. That was apt to happen to Anthony, he would get caught up in editing, shooting, planning, or- like today- doing nothing and he would forget his stomach. Never was his primary focus, unlike Ian. The fatty.
The thought of his goofy, food-obsessed best friend brought the tiniest semblance of a smile to his face. First one in awhile, unfortunately. It quickly fled from his mouth, however. He suspected nothing much could really cheer him up right now. Pulling himself out of bed, and trudging toward his door, Anthony tired to think about why he was so goddamned sad. These days sucked, when an emotion would hit you hard and unexpected, staying for as long as it damn well pleased and just refusing to leave.
He continued his trek through his door, down the carpeted hallway, across the floor, making his way to the fridge. The trip, however short, was arduous and painful. His shoulders were slumped, face pale and down turned. The fridge opened with a soft plunk and he surveyed the contents uninterestedly. Nothing looked good. He wasn’t really hungry, anyway. Instead, he reached for a can of Pepsi.
Removing the can, he saw a tiny scrap of paper flutter from the box holding the rest of the contained beverages. Confusion contorted his once stoic features as he stooped to scoop up the fallen paper. He unfolded it, revealing a half-sheet of printer paper that was torn at the bottom and covered in Ian’s scrawl.
Dearest Anthony,
CONGRATULATIONS. You found the secret message. Yeah. That’s it. What? Do you want a fucking prize? I dunno why I left this. Stop looking at me like I have a fourth nipple, do I need a reason, asshole? No. I’m Ian Hecox and I need no reason for my randomness- or epicness. Whichever you prefer to call it.
Well, I hope you know I miss your face. I mean, is that weird to say? Pfft, whatever. I do. We fucking live together, dude. Of course I miss you, what do you expect? Try to survive without me (who am I kidding, you’re probably ready to jump off a building without the best part of your life by your side)! I’ll see you soon, because- knowing you- you’ve forgotten to eat or drink and found this note days after I left it. Yeah, do I know you or what? Lemme give you a hint, I know you.
See you soon, man.
Forever, With an Intense and Undying Love that Burns True and Strong,
Ian Hecox
Surrounding the written words were a bunch of doodles, many of which were crude penises, boobs, little pokemon. Others came from the vast inside joke repertoire they had built up throughout the course of their over-a-decade-long friendship. Anthony traced the doodles with light fingertips as his lips turned up into a face-paining grin.
The little message was hilarious, and completely Ian. He could almost see Ian’s face if he said aloud the final, cheesy, homosexual line admitting his “undying love”. It would be exaggerated and hilarious, he would probably drop to one knee, his blue eyes shining with fake tears and hands cupping Anthony’s melodramatically. He would whisper the words soulfully, voice stuttering. Anthony barked out a laugh into the once depressing and silent house at the thought of the visual. They should throw that into a video one day.
Anthony felt like he was right there with him, teasing, joking, reprimanding him for forgetting to eat. If he was here, he would be his normal loud, comical self, making jokes and causing Anthony to double over with laughter. Still smiling to himself, he folded the note back up.
Anthony pulled out a box of cold, half-eaten pizza that Ian and him got out at some pizza place right before he left. His hunger had been roused suddenly, so he threw three pieces to heat up in microwave.
Pressing the timer, he looked down at the note once again. He noticed for the first time that Ian had drawn a series of little hearts in the very top corner of the paper. His smile grew, if that was even possible. He stuck the scrap in his pocket, planning on to later put it in the little box under his bed that held treasures from their years together as friends. Tiny little mementos that he would sometimes take out and simply reminisce over, memories flooding back to him and making him smile. This note would be the perfect addition.
Anthony grabbed the now hot pizza from the beeping microwave and took his place at their kitchen table. He patted the note that rested in his pocket. It reminded him that he should be happy, he wasn’t alone, it would always get better.
Yeah, he would be able to survive the next few days, Anthony decided.