Recovery, chapter ten
summary: Ian dies of cancer. Anthony has a dream and Kris has a confession.
warnings: foul language and gay sex
rating: pg-13
Wednesday was no better than the day previous for Anthony, and though he didn't have to face Ian's house again, he still had to face a thousand memories of him. He went to the offices early, where he had meetings upon meetings upon meetings, full of pitying faces and silent looks of doubt. Most were boring and painful, all about business affairs that needed to occur as the result of Ian's death. One, however, was less business and more personal, and it caused him a great deal of pain.
***
"Anthony, we know it's rough, but you need to start making videos again. Fans love Mari and all, but they're worried. They don't think you're recovering from this properly." Brandon was saying to him, increasing the anger he had carried from the moment he woke up.
"So tell me, Brandon, what's the proper way to recover from your best friend's death?" Anthony asked him, and Brandon took a step back.
"Look, what I'm about to tell you, you're not gonna like it. But it's necessary, and though you may argue with me, I think deep down you know it is, too." He seemed to be preparing to run from some sort of stampede.
"Oh God, what is it?" Anthony sighed and wondered when the entire company decided it was alright to make big moves without him.
"We've hired some people. From local community colleges, theaters, art schools. They're not replacing Ian, no one could ever do that, but we need workers. It's really nice that Mari's stepped up to the plate and guest youtubers are helping us out, but we need you back, and when you return, this can't be a one-man show." He finished and drew in a breath, waiting for Anthony to explode.
"That sounds fine, I guess." He commented, feeling defeated. He knew he would be back to filming some time, but it would've been slightly preferable if he could run away and hide from the memories, the responsibilities. "How many actors?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty?" Anthony yelped incredulously.
"We'll fire a few eventually, but for now it'll be nice to have them. They'll come in on a schedule, we'll see who the fans like, it'll be fun. Give it a chance, man."
"Fine. I don't care." He lied angrily. "Whatever."
But he was furious. At Ian, still, for dying, at the company, at the twenty replacements he hadn't even met thus far. He was angry at the world and its changes, and he spent the rest of that day buried beneath said anger, not at all prepared for what would come the next morning.
***
The hot breath tickled his neck as the person it belonged to bit and nipped at his skin, moving all over, finding just the right spots. It was quick and desperate, all moving so fast, but it felt so good to be dirty that he didn't want the one kissing him to slow down.
"Fuck." Anthony muttered, struggling to remain on solid ground. He didn't really know the details, but he knew he was in bed, he was naked, and he was underneath someone with a rather skilled mouth. Said person bit at his jaw line, then traced his tongue along the spot before leaning over and looking into Anthony's eyes.
"You're gorgeous." Ian said to him, biting his own lip, and Anthony felt his cock get even harder against Ian's thigh.
"Ian-" He was interrupted when Ian moved forward, connecting their lips. Ian's were angelically soft against his, but he still played devilishly dirty, biting Anthony's lower lip, then forcing his tongue deep into his mouth. Anthony felt warmer than he'd ever been, and like he could barely breathe, but God did he love the sensation.
Ian broke the kiss and moved his head, so his breath now heated Anthony's ear. He whispered to him.
"Do you want to get fucked, Ant?"
He ran his hands agonizingly slowly down Anthony's sides. Anthony moaned in response, staring at Ian's pristine neck and longing to make it red and raw with hickeys.
"Do you want me to fuck you so hard you can't walk in the morning?"
Ian's hands stopped at Anthony's waist, his thumbs drawing circles near his pelvic bones. A large part of him wanting to beg for those hands to move somewhere they could satisfy him much more, he refrained and instead gripped the sheets tightly with one hand. With the other, he ran his fingers up Ian's back, touching the vertebrae and feeling the toned muscles beneath his soft skin.
"Fuck me." He whispered back, and he felt Ian grin. The hands went lower again.
"Tell me what you want." Ian shifted his position slightly, his hands cupping Anthony's ass. Anthony could feel a warmth against his thigh, and knowing what is was, he wanted it. He felt Ian grin again before he could piece together an appropriate response.
"Do you want to get spanked?"
He gasped and arched his back as he felt Ian's hands tightly squeeze his ass, his nails digging into his skin, and at that moment he realized he'd never been so turned on in his entire life.
Anthony awoke with a gasp that loosely resembled a strangled yell, actually sitting up in his bed. Beads of sweat were collecting on his forehead, even starting to drip, and he was breathing heavily. Looking over to Kalel, he found her still asleep, and gave a sigh of relief. Then, looking down, he noticed a problem that clearly wasn't going away.
Stumbling out of bed, he rushed to the bathroom, closing the door and falling to his knees just in time to vomit into the toilet, his entire body shaking. He scooted over a few inches and leaned against the wall, then glanced down at his painful erection. He could remember every moment of the dream vividly, and it terrified him in ways he wasn't even certain of.
He stood, shaking, and removed his t-shirt and boxers, then entered the shower. Turning on the cold water, he stood still for a long time, not allowing himself to indulge on the dream.
***
He felt quite awful calling Kris later, after all the yelling that had occurred a few days previous, but he knew he needed help, and Kris seemed like his only option; he certainly wasn't talking to Kalel about it. Kris told him to meet him at his office, and at 8:00 in the morning, Anthony found himself talking to a young blonde named Ruby before sitting in the waiting room, nervous and alone.
"Mr. Padilla? You can go in now." Ruby called out, and as he passed by, she stopped filing her nails for a moment and leaned in. "Hey, sorry about Ian. I couldn't make it to the funeral but he was a good kid."
"Thanks." He muttered in response, not enjoying the pity.
He went into the office and halted a moment, surprised. The room was hot, but the thick curtains were drawn, and the lamps in the room were the only source of light, so the heat felt homely instead of typical July weather. Everything was a rich, deep color, so the whole place screamed comfort. Directly ahead of him sat the therapist, in one of two large, inviting chairs.
"Good morning, Anthony!" Kris smiled. "Have a seat."
Anthony sat in the armchair across from him, settling in comfortably. It occurred to him that if Ian had therapy with the man every Monday when he said he was volunteering at the Y, then he'd sat in that chair often. It felt odd being in what was apparently Ian's place.
"So Anthony, you sounded quite distressed when you called this emergency meeting. What happened?" When Anthony stayed silent, he added "I'm not here to judge people, Anthony. I'm here to help."
"I...I had a gay dream about Ian. A really, really gay dream." He raised his eyebrows, and Kris nodded, understanding. "But I threw up when I woke up. It scared me. I don't want to have sex with him, so I don't know why I dreamed it."
"Perhaps because of your newfound knowledge of his affections for you." Kris mused.
"You mean I'm having gay dreams about him because I just found out he's gay?" Anthony questioned doubtfully.
"Well, I wouldn't label him as gay. He never told me so, and he certainly seemed to love- what was her name, Melanie? - very much. Another human being cannot identify another's sexuality, but if I had to presume, I would say Ian was bisexual."
"I don't know, you're the one who spent all this time with him. I don't even know the details, all he wrote in the note was that he was in love with me in high school, and that I was embarrassed, and he just let me be happy..." Anthony trailed off.
"Note?" Kris looked confused, and Anthony realized Ian didn't tell him he wrote it. He probably didn't tell anyone, wrote it just before he died.
"He- he didn't tell me about the ca- he didn't say he was sick. He didn't say he loved me, either, until he was gone. He just wrote a little note." He paused, an unpleasant thought entering his head. "Did you know that he wasn't telling me?"
Kris gave a heavy sigh, full of burden. "Anthony, remember when you called and asked when to come over, and I said whenever you like?"
"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" Anthony asked curiously.
"I usually have patients nearly all day. I've been transferring them to other psychologists because I'm retiring." He looked Anthony directly in the eyes, and his next words were a confession he'd never said aloud. "Ian was my biggest blunder. I have always been good at my practice, but I slipped up. I let him keep this secret, maybe even wanted him too. I got too close, I befriended him, and the clarity disappeared. I'm getting to old for this game, and you can start to see it in my work. It's time to move on."
"You let him keep all that from me?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "Why?"
"Because he was in denial. Because it would break him if he told. Because he was too afraid to ask for help. As a therapist, I'm supposed to help my patients accept change and learn from it, even if it means hurting them, so long as it's beneficial in the long run. But with Ian, I knew his life was ending, I didn't see a long run. I just wanted to protect him, even if that meant keeping his life from changing. But I failed him. And his mother, and you. And for that I am truly sorry."
They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at each other. One had a weight lifted just a fraction off his chest, the other was trying to process everything that had been said. Finally, Anthony spoke, his mind hazy.
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. But I would like to earn it, eventually." Kris replied, his kind eyes twinkling in earnest.
"Then tell me this. Did he love me? Did he just settle for Mel?" Anthony leaned forward, his face determined.
"I believe so." Kris said.
"Then why did he wait until he was dead to tell me? Why didn't he tell me he had cancer? Didn't he know how this would hurt me?" Anger was edging into his voice. "It was selfish. I just - I don't understand why he did this."
"Maybe you never will. It'll take time, Anthony, but you need to accept what's been done. As for those questions..." He hesitated. "Ian was in denial. Of how much you cared for him, of how serious death is, of what would come after he left. And denial, Anthony, is a powerful thing, something you'll surely agree with when you look back on this."
"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly.
"You defined that dream as the exact opposite of what you want. You're seeing your friendship in a new light, and I understand that's difficult. But don't deny feelings and desires just because you once thought they were taboo. Did you enjoy the dream?"
"I don't know." Anthony confessed honestly, his words rushed and a bit too harsh. "I don't know what I want. But I know one thing. I'm angry. At everything and everyone. All of this hurts, Kris. I just want it to be how it used to be."
Kris' face got serious. "I didn't prepare Ian for change, and when it came he and those he loved were destroyed. I cannot let that happen to you, Anthony. Ian was my responsibility, and now you and Cheryl are too. You can't get things how they used to be, but you can accept what was and what is. I'd like to help you with that."
Anthony nodded and let out a shaky breath. He hadn't noticed how tense the air in the room had become.
"So let's meet again, shall we? How about Monday at three? Seems fitting." Kris suggested with a shrug, and Anthony grimly realized that Kris now had an opening in that time.
"Is this gonna be a weekly thing?" Anthony questioned.
"We'll see how it goes." Kris smiled and stood, and Anthony did the same. Kris shook his hand firmly, and Anthony made to depart before pausing for another question.
"How much-"
"Anthony, pardon my language, but..." He smiled mischievously so Anthony saw the youth he once had. "Fuck it, I'm retiring."
For the first time in days, Anthony smiled.
***
He really didn't want to think of the dream again. Or of denial or anything else he discussed with Kris. He just wanted to get home and act like everything was normal. Walking through the door, he was prepared to do that, until he realized he couldn't look Kalel in the eyes. He did just have a dirty dream about their dead friend, after all.
"Hey, babe, you left really early, where were you?" She said from the couch, and he looked over to see Kabuki snuggled next to her as she painted her nails.
"Nowhere. Work." He lied quickly, and when she looked up at him, he turned and avoided her gaze.
"Oh. Do you want to hang out with me and Kabuki?" She offered, hope in her voice, but he felt too awkward to join them.
"No, um, I'll just clean Charlie's cage or dust or something. Get the house nice and clean." He quickly grabbed a sponge from the sink and, feeling her eyes on him, started wiping down the counter. Sensing her turning away, he continued, until thinking of Ian, whom he recalled cleaned when he got worked up. He dropped the sponge and retired to his room, ignoring his girlfriend's questioning look.
Change was their big problem, and they had to face it and accept it. But unfortunately, big changes were coming, and Anthony wasn't prepared for the difficulties he would encounter. For now he could only ponder the past with Ian, and cringe at a future he didn't care for.
A/N: Hey guys, it's kind of a special day. A year ago today, I posted the first chapter of Ordinary, and though you may not be aware, that was sort of a huge deal for me. Before Ordinary, I wrote sparingly, and to be frank, not very well. Then I found the Smosh fandom and I found something I needed to dedicate to, and now here we are a year later with chapter ten of the sequel of a 36 chapter story. Without Ordinary, I wouldn't be writing everyday; I wouldn't be working on an original short story to publish, I wouldn't have my first novel planned out (I hope to publish by the end of next year), I wouldn't want to write screenplays and television shows or any of the other fanfiction that I write.
So this is a thank you. To everyone who's ever read or commented on any chapter of Ordinary, thank you so much, because without your support I'd probably be in a college I don't want to be in right now, learning about business or politics instead of pursuing what I really love. So thanks again you guys, happy anniversary :)
warnings: foul language and gay sex
rating: pg-13
Wednesday was no better than the day previous for Anthony, and though he didn't have to face Ian's house again, he still had to face a thousand memories of him. He went to the offices early, where he had meetings upon meetings upon meetings, full of pitying faces and silent looks of doubt. Most were boring and painful, all about business affairs that needed to occur as the result of Ian's death. One, however, was less business and more personal, and it caused him a great deal of pain.
***
"Anthony, we know it's rough, but you need to start making videos again. Fans love Mari and all, but they're worried. They don't think you're recovering from this properly." Brandon was saying to him, increasing the anger he had carried from the moment he woke up.
"So tell me, Brandon, what's the proper way to recover from your best friend's death?" Anthony asked him, and Brandon took a step back.
"Look, what I'm about to tell you, you're not gonna like it. But it's necessary, and though you may argue with me, I think deep down you know it is, too." He seemed to be preparing to run from some sort of stampede.
"Oh God, what is it?" Anthony sighed and wondered when the entire company decided it was alright to make big moves without him.
"We've hired some people. From local community colleges, theaters, art schools. They're not replacing Ian, no one could ever do that, but we need workers. It's really nice that Mari's stepped up to the plate and guest youtubers are helping us out, but we need you back, and when you return, this can't be a one-man show." He finished and drew in a breath, waiting for Anthony to explode.
"That sounds fine, I guess." He commented, feeling defeated. He knew he would be back to filming some time, but it would've been slightly preferable if he could run away and hide from the memories, the responsibilities. "How many actors?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty?" Anthony yelped incredulously.
"We'll fire a few eventually, but for now it'll be nice to have them. They'll come in on a schedule, we'll see who the fans like, it'll be fun. Give it a chance, man."
"Fine. I don't care." He lied angrily. "Whatever."
But he was furious. At Ian, still, for dying, at the company, at the twenty replacements he hadn't even met thus far. He was angry at the world and its changes, and he spent the rest of that day buried beneath said anger, not at all prepared for what would come the next morning.
***
The hot breath tickled his neck as the person it belonged to bit and nipped at his skin, moving all over, finding just the right spots. It was quick and desperate, all moving so fast, but it felt so good to be dirty that he didn't want the one kissing him to slow down.
"Fuck." Anthony muttered, struggling to remain on solid ground. He didn't really know the details, but he knew he was in bed, he was naked, and he was underneath someone with a rather skilled mouth. Said person bit at his jaw line, then traced his tongue along the spot before leaning over and looking into Anthony's eyes.
"You're gorgeous." Ian said to him, biting his own lip, and Anthony felt his cock get even harder against Ian's thigh.
"Ian-" He was interrupted when Ian moved forward, connecting their lips. Ian's were angelically soft against his, but he still played devilishly dirty, biting Anthony's lower lip, then forcing his tongue deep into his mouth. Anthony felt warmer than he'd ever been, and like he could barely breathe, but God did he love the sensation.
Ian broke the kiss and moved his head, so his breath now heated Anthony's ear. He whispered to him.
"Do you want to get fucked, Ant?"
He ran his hands agonizingly slowly down Anthony's sides. Anthony moaned in response, staring at Ian's pristine neck and longing to make it red and raw with hickeys.
"Do you want me to fuck you so hard you can't walk in the morning?"
Ian's hands stopped at Anthony's waist, his thumbs drawing circles near his pelvic bones. A large part of him wanting to beg for those hands to move somewhere they could satisfy him much more, he refrained and instead gripped the sheets tightly with one hand. With the other, he ran his fingers up Ian's back, touching the vertebrae and feeling the toned muscles beneath his soft skin.
"Fuck me." He whispered back, and he felt Ian grin. The hands went lower again.
"Tell me what you want." Ian shifted his position slightly, his hands cupping Anthony's ass. Anthony could feel a warmth against his thigh, and knowing what is was, he wanted it. He felt Ian grin again before he could piece together an appropriate response.
"Do you want to get spanked?"
He gasped and arched his back as he felt Ian's hands tightly squeeze his ass, his nails digging into his skin, and at that moment he realized he'd never been so turned on in his entire life.
Anthony awoke with a gasp that loosely resembled a strangled yell, actually sitting up in his bed. Beads of sweat were collecting on his forehead, even starting to drip, and he was breathing heavily. Looking over to Kalel, he found her still asleep, and gave a sigh of relief. Then, looking down, he noticed a problem that clearly wasn't going away.
Stumbling out of bed, he rushed to the bathroom, closing the door and falling to his knees just in time to vomit into the toilet, his entire body shaking. He scooted over a few inches and leaned against the wall, then glanced down at his painful erection. He could remember every moment of the dream vividly, and it terrified him in ways he wasn't even certain of.
He stood, shaking, and removed his t-shirt and boxers, then entered the shower. Turning on the cold water, he stood still for a long time, not allowing himself to indulge on the dream.
***
He felt quite awful calling Kris later, after all the yelling that had occurred a few days previous, but he knew he needed help, and Kris seemed like his only option; he certainly wasn't talking to Kalel about it. Kris told him to meet him at his office, and at 8:00 in the morning, Anthony found himself talking to a young blonde named Ruby before sitting in the waiting room, nervous and alone.
"Mr. Padilla? You can go in now." Ruby called out, and as he passed by, she stopped filing her nails for a moment and leaned in. "Hey, sorry about Ian. I couldn't make it to the funeral but he was a good kid."
"Thanks." He muttered in response, not enjoying the pity.
He went into the office and halted a moment, surprised. The room was hot, but the thick curtains were drawn, and the lamps in the room were the only source of light, so the heat felt homely instead of typical July weather. Everything was a rich, deep color, so the whole place screamed comfort. Directly ahead of him sat the therapist, in one of two large, inviting chairs.
"Good morning, Anthony!" Kris smiled. "Have a seat."
Anthony sat in the armchair across from him, settling in comfortably. It occurred to him that if Ian had therapy with the man every Monday when he said he was volunteering at the Y, then he'd sat in that chair often. It felt odd being in what was apparently Ian's place.
"So Anthony, you sounded quite distressed when you called this emergency meeting. What happened?" When Anthony stayed silent, he added "I'm not here to judge people, Anthony. I'm here to help."
"I...I had a gay dream about Ian. A really, really gay dream." He raised his eyebrows, and Kris nodded, understanding. "But I threw up when I woke up. It scared me. I don't want to have sex with him, so I don't know why I dreamed it."
"Perhaps because of your newfound knowledge of his affections for you." Kris mused.
"You mean I'm having gay dreams about him because I just found out he's gay?" Anthony questioned doubtfully.
"Well, I wouldn't label him as gay. He never told me so, and he certainly seemed to love- what was her name, Melanie? - very much. Another human being cannot identify another's sexuality, but if I had to presume, I would say Ian was bisexual."
"I don't know, you're the one who spent all this time with him. I don't even know the details, all he wrote in the note was that he was in love with me in high school, and that I was embarrassed, and he just let me be happy..." Anthony trailed off.
"Note?" Kris looked confused, and Anthony realized Ian didn't tell him he wrote it. He probably didn't tell anyone, wrote it just before he died.
"He- he didn't tell me about the ca- he didn't say he was sick. He didn't say he loved me, either, until he was gone. He just wrote a little note." He paused, an unpleasant thought entering his head. "Did you know that he wasn't telling me?"
Kris gave a heavy sigh, full of burden. "Anthony, remember when you called and asked when to come over, and I said whenever you like?"
"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" Anthony asked curiously.
"I usually have patients nearly all day. I've been transferring them to other psychologists because I'm retiring." He looked Anthony directly in the eyes, and his next words were a confession he'd never said aloud. "Ian was my biggest blunder. I have always been good at my practice, but I slipped up. I let him keep this secret, maybe even wanted him too. I got too close, I befriended him, and the clarity disappeared. I'm getting to old for this game, and you can start to see it in my work. It's time to move on."
"You let him keep all that from me?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "Why?"
"Because he was in denial. Because it would break him if he told. Because he was too afraid to ask for help. As a therapist, I'm supposed to help my patients accept change and learn from it, even if it means hurting them, so long as it's beneficial in the long run. But with Ian, I knew his life was ending, I didn't see a long run. I just wanted to protect him, even if that meant keeping his life from changing. But I failed him. And his mother, and you. And for that I am truly sorry."
They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at each other. One had a weight lifted just a fraction off his chest, the other was trying to process everything that had been said. Finally, Anthony spoke, his mind hazy.
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. But I would like to earn it, eventually." Kris replied, his kind eyes twinkling in earnest.
"Then tell me this. Did he love me? Did he just settle for Mel?" Anthony leaned forward, his face determined.
"I believe so." Kris said.
"Then why did he wait until he was dead to tell me? Why didn't he tell me he had cancer? Didn't he know how this would hurt me?" Anger was edging into his voice. "It was selfish. I just - I don't understand why he did this."
"Maybe you never will. It'll take time, Anthony, but you need to accept what's been done. As for those questions..." He hesitated. "Ian was in denial. Of how much you cared for him, of how serious death is, of what would come after he left. And denial, Anthony, is a powerful thing, something you'll surely agree with when you look back on this."
"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly.
"You defined that dream as the exact opposite of what you want. You're seeing your friendship in a new light, and I understand that's difficult. But don't deny feelings and desires just because you once thought they were taboo. Did you enjoy the dream?"
"I don't know." Anthony confessed honestly, his words rushed and a bit too harsh. "I don't know what I want. But I know one thing. I'm angry. At everything and everyone. All of this hurts, Kris. I just want it to be how it used to be."
Kris' face got serious. "I didn't prepare Ian for change, and when it came he and those he loved were destroyed. I cannot let that happen to you, Anthony. Ian was my responsibility, and now you and Cheryl are too. You can't get things how they used to be, but you can accept what was and what is. I'd like to help you with that."
Anthony nodded and let out a shaky breath. He hadn't noticed how tense the air in the room had become.
"So let's meet again, shall we? How about Monday at three? Seems fitting." Kris suggested with a shrug, and Anthony grimly realized that Kris now had an opening in that time.
"Is this gonna be a weekly thing?" Anthony questioned.
"We'll see how it goes." Kris smiled and stood, and Anthony did the same. Kris shook his hand firmly, and Anthony made to depart before pausing for another question.
"How much-"
"Anthony, pardon my language, but..." He smiled mischievously so Anthony saw the youth he once had. "Fuck it, I'm retiring."
For the first time in days, Anthony smiled.
***
He really didn't want to think of the dream again. Or of denial or anything else he discussed with Kris. He just wanted to get home and act like everything was normal. Walking through the door, he was prepared to do that, until he realized he couldn't look Kalel in the eyes. He did just have a dirty dream about their dead friend, after all.
"Hey, babe, you left really early, where were you?" She said from the couch, and he looked over to see Kabuki snuggled next to her as she painted her nails.
"Nowhere. Work." He lied quickly, and when she looked up at him, he turned and avoided her gaze.
"Oh. Do you want to hang out with me and Kabuki?" She offered, hope in her voice, but he felt too awkward to join them.
"No, um, I'll just clean Charlie's cage or dust or something. Get the house nice and clean." He quickly grabbed a sponge from the sink and, feeling her eyes on him, started wiping down the counter. Sensing her turning away, he continued, until thinking of Ian, whom he recalled cleaned when he got worked up. He dropped the sponge and retired to his room, ignoring his girlfriend's questioning look.
Change was their big problem, and they had to face it and accept it. But unfortunately, big changes were coming, and Anthony wasn't prepared for the difficulties he would encounter. For now he could only ponder the past with Ian, and cringe at a future he didn't care for.
A/N: Hey guys, it's kind of a special day. A year ago today, I posted the first chapter of Ordinary, and though you may not be aware, that was sort of a huge deal for me. Before Ordinary, I wrote sparingly, and to be frank, not very well. Then I found the Smosh fandom and I found something I needed to dedicate to, and now here we are a year later with chapter ten of the sequel of a 36 chapter story. Without Ordinary, I wouldn't be writing everyday; I wouldn't be working on an original short story to publish, I wouldn't have my first novel planned out (I hope to publish by the end of next year), I wouldn't want to write screenplays and television shows or any of the other fanfiction that I write.
So this is a thank you. To everyone who's ever read or commented on any chapter of Ordinary, thank you so much, because without your support I'd probably be in a college I don't want to be in right now, learning about business or politics instead of pursuing what I really love. So thanks again you guys, happy anniversary :)