A/N: Hiii everyone, not my first smash fic but definitely my first Ianthony. I made a smash fic with an OC like... in 2010, but it was lame. I got bored of it and I didn't really discover gay fanfics until My Chem with Frerard. So, yaaaa.

I got my information on nightmares and nightmare disorders from - . and my own experience/knowledge of concealing I've had.

Hope you all enjoy! x

Ever since Ian was little, he's had these nightmares. These fucking awful nightmares, ranging from everyone he loved being mutilated and tortured or himself being buried alive or killed. Sometimes, he even had dreams about Anthony, his favorite person in the whole wide world, turning his back on Ian, betraying him or laughing at him. He would always wake in a sweated and after a moment of trying to remember his dream, shocked at what his mind made up. He would have to hold back a sob some nights.

His mom knew he had nightmares so if he had one, he was welcomed to crawl his little five year old body (or sixteen year old body) into her bed or wake her up and have his mom sleep in his bed. It always made him feel better.

When it got the point where seven year old Ian refused to ever go to sleep and his mother couldn't handle being awake anymore, they decided the best thing to do was to take Ian to concealing. He was recommended to a psychologist by his doctor and he couldn't have been more scared. His childish mind imagined the big word professional was scary and dark, old and something straight out of his nightmares. But he couldn't be more wrong. When he walked into the psychologist's office on his first day, he was greeted with a gracious-looking woman with rosy cheeks and eyes that squinted up when she smiled. "You must be Ian! Hi, I'm Vivian." Is all she had to say and Ian let out a sigh of relief.

Over the course of a couple of weeks, she had told his mother (and him, when he listened in on the adults speaking when they thought he was playing with cars) that Ian had PTSD. His mother didn't seemed surprised, just melancholy. She explained that the physical abuse from her ex husband (and Ian's dad) was traumatizing to him when he was smaller and that's the most likely reason for these nightmares. Also, that Ian had nightmare disorder- or dream anxiety disorder- spawning from the PTSD. Vivian said they should continue concealing.

So, now Ian has been seeing Vivian off and on for around ten years and they have reduced his nightmares down to one or two a week. Vivian had said this was phenomenal and that he was the brightest patient he has ever had the pleasure of working with. Ian couldn't help but blush and feel proud of his accomplishments. His mother congratulated him with McDonald's and allowing Anthony to come over the for the weekend, which was all the reward he wanted.

Anthony was his best friend. They had met when he was six and still having nightmares every night. When little Ian would go spend the night at Anthony's house, sometimes he would wake up crying and crawl into Anthony's bed. The other seventeen year old didn't seem to mind and actually might have enjoyed staying up all night with his best friend. When he started concealing, Ian explained to the best of his seven year old abilities and Anthony kind of understand, didn't judge and asked him if he wanted to play video games after school. As they were growing up, Ian would still crawl into Anthony's bed and ask him to sleep next to Ian. It was embarrassing but Anthony brushed it off because his best friend needed him. Now sixteen, they were closer than ever and okay, maybe Ian had a crush on him.

He hadn't realized until Ian couldn't stop staring at him a year before. Anthony was talking about something that he was really passionate about, spending a good ten minutes on the subject. If Ian had said he heard any of it, that would be a lie. Not because he was ignoring his best friend, but because he was staring at him. He was entranced in the way Anthony's lips moved as he spoke or how beautiful his eyes were. He stared at his whole face. His best friend had grown up really hot, like extremely fucking attractive. When Anthony stop talking, waiting for a response from Ian, he just stammered with a red face and agreed with him.

Okay so maybe it wasn't just the one time and maybe it was just a crush. Ian has always known he loved Anthony but it's a different kind of a love. A love where he could kiss this boy all over his face. Ian really fucking wanted to kiss him, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't live with the rejection.

"Are you gonna call Anthony?" Ian's mom pops her head in the frame into Ian's room. Ian looks up from the homework he was half-assing. He didn't understand calculus anyways.

"Oh, yeah." Ian chimes, smiles a bit. His mom walks in with a funny look on her face. The seventeen year old whips out his phone and dials the number. He looks at his mom when he puts his phone to his ear.

"What?" He questions his mother, waiting for Anthony to pick up.

"When are you gonna tell him?" She whispers.

"Tell him what?" Ian asks back, irritated because he knew exactly what they were talking about.

"You know what I'm talking about." She smirks.

Ian groans. "Ugh, mom! I don't like him, okay?"

"Hello?"

Ian feels his face go bright red and his mom must have heard the echo of Anthony's voice because she hurried out of the room with a chuckle. Sorta like a 'you can deal with that' move.

"Hey, Anthony! It's Ian." He says a bit too enthusiastically. Then he sighs to himself, realizing how much of an idiot he sounded like and facepalms.

Anthony laughs. "I know man, I have caller ID." Another facepalm. "Even if I didn't, I could've recognized your voice."

Ian laughs. "Duh."

"So what's up?" Anthony asks, voice sounded distracted. He was probably playing Mario Kart or something.

"Do you wanna stay the weekend? You can bring over some video games and we can eat junk food the whole time. Friday to Monday? We'll drive you to school." Ian offers and Anthony takes a couple of moments to answer.

"No, I hate you asshole. Definitely do not want to spend the weekend with my best friend and dick around. Sounds awful." Anthony monotones, but it's rough like he's holding back snickers.

Ian laughs. "It's a plan then. I'll see you tomorrow, dickwad."

Anthony chuckles as well. "Till tomorrow, slutbag."

With that, Ian hangs up. He holds the phone to his chest all girly like and sighs. Maybe he would tell him, this weekend would be the perfect time. But at the same time, he didn't want to get his heart broken in the middle of a junk and video game feast.

He just says, tossing his phone to the side and closing his homework.