Smosh Fic: Words Unsaid
Title: Words Unsaid (Thanksgiving Challenge - "Giving Thanks")
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: One-Sided Ian/Anthony
Genre: Angst
Summary: Anthony remembers the first time for everything and the words that could've been said.
The first time, as far as Anthony could recall, the first moment of feeling, was the moment Ian had to coax Anthony down from a high reign of rage. It came without words. Anthony had come home, completely silent because disappointment and anger covered all his ability to communicate. He didn’t need to tell Ian what happened with the first girl he had ever offered his heart to. He only had to look his best friend in the eye and all was conveyed.
If words were not lost, he might have said, might have lied, crying, I cared for her. I thought we had something. I loved her.
But Anthony was glad. He hadn’t said anything he would regret, not allowing useless syllables to spill out of desperation. Instead, he was silent and Ian was too.
He didn’t need to ask. Anthony had only needed to sit and slump his body beside Ian, let the weight drip off of him and let Ian handle it. Ian was good at it, knowing exactly what to do. A smile that held a million promises blew out the fire in Anthony’s chest and filled it with cool waters.
His shoulder pressed against Ian’s was all Anthony needed for the moment and he was thankful for that.
***
This first time Anthony realized how much Ian meant to him was when they celebrated seven years of Smosh, thirteen years of friendship and the fact that Ian hadn’t died from his recent snowboarding accident.
They had decided to hold a party up on the white peaks of some mountain Anthony would never remember the name of. Snowboarding was Ian’s thing and Anthony went along with it for the sake of pleasing his best friend. Plus, he knew Ian wanted to impress Melanie who he hadn't seen in months.
It would be expected that Anthony would be the one in the clinic, holding onto a sprained arm and a bruised leg, but it was Ian. Ian was the one grunting pain and rocking back and forth with long seething breaths. And Anthony was the one sitting silently beside the hurt boy, running a hand up and down Ian’s hunched shivering back. Melanie, on the other side of Ian was frowning and leaving every so often to check for an available doctor.
He didn’t need Ian to say it to him. He knew, waiting for hours in a lanky white room at the edge of town without complaint what Ian would say. Anthony only pulled Ian in towards him after a particularly painful minute, letting the head of downy brown rest on his shoulder.
He might have called Ian an idiot, or told him, Don’t try to show off again, you douche. She wasn’t even looking. I don’t want you diving off a cliff for nobody.
But he only nodded his head when Ian looked up at him, blue eyes blinking back frustrated tears and he knew Ian was saying, thank you.
***The first time Anthony knew there would be nobody else in the world that would ever understand him like Ian, was when they had laughed so much, their mouths gaping wide open, that air was out of reach from their bodies.
He can’t even remember what it was that was so funny, only that it was funny enough to cause laughter to last all afternoon. If Anthony had to choose the happiest moment of his life, it would be this; watching Ian crumple to the floor, fistful of Anthony’s shirt and dragging him down too until they were a heap of a gasping mess.
And if words were to form between heaving gulps, they might have choked out, I can’t breathe! Gah, why is this so funny? Help me, I’m dying!
But Anthony could only manage to give Ian a look, taking in his friend’s red face and bright eyed look and pressing his face into Ian’s rumbling chest. They laughed like that for what seemed like hours until their faces hurt and their lungs ached. Anthony was thankful that they even made it through the day because every look, every touch, every smile, every incoherent word was followed by out-of-breath laughter.
***
The first time they laid beside each other all night without sleep was the moment Charlie died.
They both knew the time would come, as was the tendency for life to arrive and leave all on its own accord. There were no warning signs or days leading up to it. It came silently, stealthily like a cold wind at night.
Anthony expected it to affect his friend more than it would him. It wasn’t his pet after all, merely another form of entertainment for their audience. But one look at Ian’s quivering lips and light blue eyes so dark in the middle of the night, plunged a pang of loss deeper than expected in him.
It was enough to leave Ian still and motionless for a while and enough for Anthony to lead Ian into his own room where Charlie’s little grey lifeless body was not. If Anthony could remember, it was probably the second time he recognized this feeling, this impossible but so real feeling, as he took Ian’s hand in his without a thought, intertwining their fingers as he nudged a silent Ian into bed.
If words were spoken, Ian might have said, might have cried, I miss him. What am I going to do now? Anthony, why did this happen?
Anthony didn’t expect the tears that welled up in his eyes as Ian curled up beside him, moulding himself against Anthony’s body. The beating of his heart went in time with the pulse of Ian’s tight grip as he breathed in the warm scent of his friend.
He knew all Ian needed was this moment of vulnerability and Anthony would let him have it, thankful that the night was long.
***
The first time Anthony felt jealousy almost cave him in, even blind him, was when Ian didn’t come home from a date. He had come up with a dozen scenarios; the two of them laughing together, flirting with one another, embracing the other and the farthest he went was all the way to Ian and Melanie getting married and abandoning Anthony.
In that span of an hour, he had made himself miserable, flipping through television channels faster than his mind could take in. But then again, his mind was elsewhere; somewhere between irrationally driving around town looking for Ian and hurling the remote to the wall in his bit of rage.
But he didn’t do any of that. He only sat there, dazed after pulling himself out of that stupor of extremity. Anthony didn’t know where he went. He didn’t understand what was going on in his mind as he pushed away the jealousy. He didn’t even realize it was jealousy at the time.
Maybe he might have called it, Worry or Loneliness. His last relationship had left him hollow, always looking for something, somebody, usually Ian to smother the desperation.
He was a little sad but thankful Ian didn’t come home that night. He didn’t know what he might have done.
***
The first time Anthony tried to date again, after that two year long relationship that had left him bare and empty, all he could think about was Ian.
He thought about what Ian would think. Would he think Anthony was lying? Would he think Anthony was disgusting? Would Ian even believe him?
He didn’t know. He wanted to know. And he wished he didn’t feel.
If he had been brave enough, if he had been truthful enough, he might not have kissed her that night or watched her strip naked until she laid herself and all her secrets before him.
He might have told her, No. I’m sorry. This isn’t what I want. You’re not who I want.
But he didn’t.
He took her. He let her take him. But his mind and his heart was elsewhere completely.
Anthony was thankful he could fool her, even fool himself.
***
The first time Anthony almost lost control was when he saw Ian, pale and naked in the moonlight. He was standing, his back to Anthony, one palm laid flat and strong on the white of the wall and another moving slow, up and down, up and down.
Anthony almost opened the door to Ian’s room completely; the small crack between the frame and the door barely concealing Ian’s hunched back, moving in time with his quick, sharp breaths.
He knew he should close it, stop looking, but his eyes and his body would not move. The only thing in motion was the stirring of bubbling heat that pooled in the back of his throat and dripped like lava to the centre of his being. This wasn't something meant to be seen, as Ian sighed, head tilting back and hair falling around his shoulders.
Anthony imagined. He thought about walking in, quiet and slow. He thought about taking off his own clothes and how it would feel to press the entire length of his own body against Ian’s flush one. He thought about smoothing his hands down skin glistening with crystal heat and gripping Ian’s hips and thrusting his own right up against Ian’s bare ass.
He wanted to take Ian's cock in his hands, let his fingers wrap around the pulsating flesh and grip hard. He wanted to feel Ian moan, the sound reverberating between the two of them as he pumped harder and harder, moved faster and faster until white hot heat spurt between his fist and ecstasy danced wild and brilliant around them.
He wanted to see those eyes as Ian came, feel the arch of Ian's sweat-soaked back as he writhed in pleasure. Anthony wanted to take those lips in his and taste Ian, breathe him in until his lungs burst with too much. He wanted to lie down and spend the night, naked and helpless in Ian’s arms, just like they had been when Charlie died.
And Anthony might have, if not for his thoughts screaming at him, No, this is wrong! Stop, stop, stop! Fuck, you’re disgusting.
He shook himself out of it and backed away. He walked all the way outside in the dark, without a coat and let the icy wind punish him. The biting frigid night slashed away his disturbed thoughts and Anthony was thankful for the chill that cut him up and brought him back to reality.
***
The first time Anthony accepted his feelings for Ian, was the first time Ian punched him in the face.
It was the first time Anthony cried himself to sleep, clutching his chest as his heart tried to break his ribs. The pain traveling through his body a dozen times more excruciating than the throbbing hurt on his cheek. It was the first time he woke up alone at home, knowing Ian would not come back. No Kalel, no Charlie and now, no Ian. He was only slightly thankful no one was there to hear him and see him as he spiralled downward into the dark.
The silence was deafening now.
***
The first words Ian said after a week long absence, standing at the front door with his backpack falling off one shoulder, were, "How's the bruise, man?"
Anthony only shrugged, blinking his heavy tired eyes and touching unconsciously his cheek where black and blue was fading into peach again.
"Can I come in?" Ian didn't wait and walked in, his shoulder touching Anthony's.
Anthony closed the door and turned around, watching as Ian tossed his bag onto the floor and stood to face him, hands at his sides fidgety and nervous.
They didn't say anything for a while, only looked at each other as if their eyes could speak days of words to each other.
Finally, Ian spoke, "I fucked up."
If Anthony hadn't spent the last week alone, dying and punishing himself, he might have responded with more. He might have told Ian how he should have listened, how he wished Ian felt the same. Anthony might have told him how awful the days were and how cold the nights were, thinking about the purposeless future. He might have told Ian how he hadn't eaten anything for two days and he didn't have the heart to fill his stomach. Anthony might have told him how much he needed Ian and how much he hoped Ian needed Anthony as well.
But he didn't. Anthony only said, "Me too."
And Ian had nodded, smiling a smile that should hurt Anthony, stab him with how carefree and willing it was to forget, forget any of this happened but it only made Anthony feel better that Ian was okay. They embraced, and for that long agonizing minute, with their hearts beating in time, thump thump, Anthony thought Ian would say, I'm sorry. I missed you. I need you. I love you.
But he didn't, only muttered against Anthony's neck, "Friends again?”
"Of course." Just friends. Only friends. Anthony hoped it was enough.
He felt Ian smile. "Thank you."
Side Story: Forget it the Next
Want more Smosh slash?
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: One-Sided Ian/Anthony
Genre: Angst
Summary: Anthony remembers the first time for everything and the words that could've been said.
The first time, as far as Anthony could recall, the first moment of feeling, was the moment Ian had to coax Anthony down from a high reign of rage. It came without words. Anthony had come home, completely silent because disappointment and anger covered all his ability to communicate. He didn’t need to tell Ian what happened with the first girl he had ever offered his heart to. He only had to look his best friend in the eye and all was conveyed.
If words were not lost, he might have said, might have lied, crying, I cared for her. I thought we had something. I loved her.
But Anthony was glad. He hadn’t said anything he would regret, not allowing useless syllables to spill out of desperation. Instead, he was silent and Ian was too.
He didn’t need to ask. Anthony had only needed to sit and slump his body beside Ian, let the weight drip off of him and let Ian handle it. Ian was good at it, knowing exactly what to do. A smile that held a million promises blew out the fire in Anthony’s chest and filled it with cool waters.
His shoulder pressed against Ian’s was all Anthony needed for the moment and he was thankful for that.
***
This first time Anthony realized how much Ian meant to him was when they celebrated seven years of Smosh, thirteen years of friendship and the fact that Ian hadn’t died from his recent snowboarding accident.
They had decided to hold a party up on the white peaks of some mountain Anthony would never remember the name of. Snowboarding was Ian’s thing and Anthony went along with it for the sake of pleasing his best friend. Plus, he knew Ian wanted to impress Melanie who he hadn't seen in months.
It would be expected that Anthony would be the one in the clinic, holding onto a sprained arm and a bruised leg, but it was Ian. Ian was the one grunting pain and rocking back and forth with long seething breaths. And Anthony was the one sitting silently beside the hurt boy, running a hand up and down Ian’s hunched shivering back. Melanie, on the other side of Ian was frowning and leaving every so often to check for an available doctor.
He didn’t need Ian to say it to him. He knew, waiting for hours in a lanky white room at the edge of town without complaint what Ian would say. Anthony only pulled Ian in towards him after a particularly painful minute, letting the head of downy brown rest on his shoulder.
He might have called Ian an idiot, or told him, Don’t try to show off again, you douche. She wasn’t even looking. I don’t want you diving off a cliff for nobody.
But he only nodded his head when Ian looked up at him, blue eyes blinking back frustrated tears and he knew Ian was saying, thank you.
***The first time Anthony knew there would be nobody else in the world that would ever understand him like Ian, was when they had laughed so much, their mouths gaping wide open, that air was out of reach from their bodies.
He can’t even remember what it was that was so funny, only that it was funny enough to cause laughter to last all afternoon. If Anthony had to choose the happiest moment of his life, it would be this; watching Ian crumple to the floor, fistful of Anthony’s shirt and dragging him down too until they were a heap of a gasping mess.
And if words were to form between heaving gulps, they might have choked out, I can’t breathe! Gah, why is this so funny? Help me, I’m dying!
But Anthony could only manage to give Ian a look, taking in his friend’s red face and bright eyed look and pressing his face into Ian’s rumbling chest. They laughed like that for what seemed like hours until their faces hurt and their lungs ached. Anthony was thankful that they even made it through the day because every look, every touch, every smile, every incoherent word was followed by out-of-breath laughter.
***
The first time they laid beside each other all night without sleep was the moment Charlie died.
They both knew the time would come, as was the tendency for life to arrive and leave all on its own accord. There were no warning signs or days leading up to it. It came silently, stealthily like a cold wind at night.
Anthony expected it to affect his friend more than it would him. It wasn’t his pet after all, merely another form of entertainment for their audience. But one look at Ian’s quivering lips and light blue eyes so dark in the middle of the night, plunged a pang of loss deeper than expected in him.
It was enough to leave Ian still and motionless for a while and enough for Anthony to lead Ian into his own room where Charlie’s little grey lifeless body was not. If Anthony could remember, it was probably the second time he recognized this feeling, this impossible but so real feeling, as he took Ian’s hand in his without a thought, intertwining their fingers as he nudged a silent Ian into bed.
If words were spoken, Ian might have said, might have cried, I miss him. What am I going to do now? Anthony, why did this happen?
Anthony didn’t expect the tears that welled up in his eyes as Ian curled up beside him, moulding himself against Anthony’s body. The beating of his heart went in time with the pulse of Ian’s tight grip as he breathed in the warm scent of his friend.
He knew all Ian needed was this moment of vulnerability and Anthony would let him have it, thankful that the night was long.
***
The first time Anthony felt jealousy almost cave him in, even blind him, was when Ian didn’t come home from a date. He had come up with a dozen scenarios; the two of them laughing together, flirting with one another, embracing the other and the farthest he went was all the way to Ian and Melanie getting married and abandoning Anthony.
In that span of an hour, he had made himself miserable, flipping through television channels faster than his mind could take in. But then again, his mind was elsewhere; somewhere between irrationally driving around town looking for Ian and hurling the remote to the wall in his bit of rage.
But he didn’t do any of that. He only sat there, dazed after pulling himself out of that stupor of extremity. Anthony didn’t know where he went. He didn’t understand what was going on in his mind as he pushed away the jealousy. He didn’t even realize it was jealousy at the time.
Maybe he might have called it, Worry or Loneliness. His last relationship had left him hollow, always looking for something, somebody, usually Ian to smother the desperation.
He was a little sad but thankful Ian didn’t come home that night. He didn’t know what he might have done.
***
The first time Anthony tried to date again, after that two year long relationship that had left him bare and empty, all he could think about was Ian.
He thought about what Ian would think. Would he think Anthony was lying? Would he think Anthony was disgusting? Would Ian even believe him?
He didn’t know. He wanted to know. And he wished he didn’t feel.
If he had been brave enough, if he had been truthful enough, he might not have kissed her that night or watched her strip naked until she laid herself and all her secrets before him.
He might have told her, No. I’m sorry. This isn’t what I want. You’re not who I want.
But he didn’t.
He took her. He let her take him. But his mind and his heart was elsewhere completely.
Anthony was thankful he could fool her, even fool himself.
***
The first time Anthony almost lost control was when he saw Ian, pale and naked in the moonlight. He was standing, his back to Anthony, one palm laid flat and strong on the white of the wall and another moving slow, up and down, up and down.
Anthony almost opened the door to Ian’s room completely; the small crack between the frame and the door barely concealing Ian’s hunched back, moving in time with his quick, sharp breaths.
He knew he should close it, stop looking, but his eyes and his body would not move. The only thing in motion was the stirring of bubbling heat that pooled in the back of his throat and dripped like lava to the centre of his being. This wasn't something meant to be seen, as Ian sighed, head tilting back and hair falling around his shoulders.
Anthony imagined. He thought about walking in, quiet and slow. He thought about taking off his own clothes and how it would feel to press the entire length of his own body against Ian’s flush one. He thought about smoothing his hands down skin glistening with crystal heat and gripping Ian’s hips and thrusting his own right up against Ian’s bare ass.
He wanted to take Ian's cock in his hands, let his fingers wrap around the pulsating flesh and grip hard. He wanted to feel Ian moan, the sound reverberating between the two of them as he pumped harder and harder, moved faster and faster until white hot heat spurt between his fist and ecstasy danced wild and brilliant around them.
He wanted to see those eyes as Ian came, feel the arch of Ian's sweat-soaked back as he writhed in pleasure. Anthony wanted to take those lips in his and taste Ian, breathe him in until his lungs burst with too much. He wanted to lie down and spend the night, naked and helpless in Ian’s arms, just like they had been when Charlie died.
And Anthony might have, if not for his thoughts screaming at him, No, this is wrong! Stop, stop, stop! Fuck, you’re disgusting.
He shook himself out of it and backed away. He walked all the way outside in the dark, without a coat and let the icy wind punish him. The biting frigid night slashed away his disturbed thoughts and Anthony was thankful for the chill that cut him up and brought him back to reality.
***
The first time Anthony accepted his feelings for Ian, was the first time Ian punched him in the face.
It was the first time Anthony cried himself to sleep, clutching his chest as his heart tried to break his ribs. The pain traveling through his body a dozen times more excruciating than the throbbing hurt on his cheek. It was the first time he woke up alone at home, knowing Ian would not come back. No Kalel, no Charlie and now, no Ian. He was only slightly thankful no one was there to hear him and see him as he spiralled downward into the dark.
The silence was deafening now.
***
The first words Ian said after a week long absence, standing at the front door with his backpack falling off one shoulder, were, "How's the bruise, man?"
Anthony only shrugged, blinking his heavy tired eyes and touching unconsciously his cheek where black and blue was fading into peach again.
"Can I come in?" Ian didn't wait and walked in, his shoulder touching Anthony's.
Anthony closed the door and turned around, watching as Ian tossed his bag onto the floor and stood to face him, hands at his sides fidgety and nervous.
They didn't say anything for a while, only looked at each other as if their eyes could speak days of words to each other.
Finally, Ian spoke, "I fucked up."
If Anthony hadn't spent the last week alone, dying and punishing himself, he might have responded with more. He might have told Ian how he should have listened, how he wished Ian felt the same. Anthony might have told him how awful the days were and how cold the nights were, thinking about the purposeless future. He might have told Ian how he hadn't eaten anything for two days and he didn't have the heart to fill his stomach. Anthony might have told him how much he needed Ian and how much he hoped Ian needed Anthony as well.
But he didn't. Anthony only said, "Me too."
And Ian had nodded, smiling a smile that should hurt Anthony, stab him with how carefree and willing it was to forget, forget any of this happened but it only made Anthony feel better that Ian was okay. They embraced, and for that long agonizing minute, with their hearts beating in time, thump thump, Anthony thought Ian would say, I'm sorry. I missed you. I need you. I love you.
But he didn't, only muttered against Anthony's neck, "Friends again?”
"Of course." Just friends. Only friends. Anthony hoped it was enough.
He felt Ian smile. "Thank you."
Side Story: Forget it the Next
Want more Smosh slash?