The regret was immediate, gushing in to replace the fury that had been there seconds before. As soon as the hurt began to fully register in Anthony's earth-brown eyes, Ian was left wishing more than anything that he could take back his words.
But they had already done their job, cutting through the air between the two men, and with it that invisible line that had bonded them since sixth grade.
"Anthony…" Ian started to say, but the hurt was already gone from the other man's eyes, replaced by cold fury.
"Fuck you, Ian," he spat and turned away. He only paused long enough to gather Pip in his arms before he made for the door. The slam of it blew a gust of air in Ian's face, but he hardly felt it.
Oh shit, oh shit. What have I done?
Years ago, Anthony had joked on a podcast about how hard it was to read Ian's emotions. He'd suggested that his friend might have years of pent-up hatred and anger building inside him, waiting to explode out. That hadn't been true at the time, but now… things were a lot different between the two boys of Smosh. Lately, they'd been fighting so much that Ian couldn't help but build up a reservoir of harsh words and resentment. Tonight, the dam had broken and all his rage flooded out in an uncontrollable rush.
He'd said a dozen things that couldn't be taken back and at least twenty more that would burn for a while. And all of that relentless anger had been aimed directly at Anthony with the intent to wound. Anthony, who was his first real friend and second real lover.
Anthony, who probably wouldn't even want to look at Ian after the shit he'd said.
Ian sank to the floor, all his strength gone now that the heat of the fight was over. It wasn't his first argument with Anthony—not by a long shot. But it was definitely the most intense. Never had they said such hurtful, hate-fueled things to each other. This fight felt so final, like the damage done couldn't be taken back, like they'd reached a point of no return.
Ian sighed. Maybe they had reached a point of no return. After all their worst fights, he was always left to wonder if they even really still loved each other anymore, or if their feelings had been corroded away by time and work and stress. He put his head in his hands. Maybe there was no hope for his and Anthony's relationship. Maybe this was the end of the road.
The worst part about that thought was that it came with a hint of something like relief.
We need to talk. I'll be there in 30 mins.
Anthony didn't allow himself to pause before hitting "Send" and letting his phone deliver the text to Ian.
It was almost a week after their big fight and the hurt of Ian's words had worn off enough that Anthony was fairly sure he'd be able to stand being around his boyfriend without wanting to punch him.
God, are we even still boyfriends? Or are we exes at this point? He still thought of Ian as his boyfriend—soulmate, lover, other half, etc.—but that was mostly out of habit at this point. God knows boyfriends didn't usually end up shouting insults and cusswords at each other every other day.
Their relationship hadn't always been this bad. For the first year that they'd been together, Ian and Anthony had gotten along perfectly—their decade-long friendship made for a smooth transition into romantic partnership. It had been blissful: all gentle kisses and kind words and passionate nights. During that year, their lives were at their peaks and the world seemed infinite. The videos they produced for Smosh were some of their best ever because the two had become so in sync and comfortable with each other. They took a month-long break from Smosh over the summer, though, and travelled the world together. They moved into the same apartment and started planning how they'd spend the rest of their life together.
But, as always in life, the good days couldn't last forever.
Now, after six brutal months of non-stop relationship issues, Anthony was in his Volt, driving back to his and Ian's apartment. He hadn't set foot in the place since their fight five days prior. He and Pip had taken up temporary residence in Joven and Wes's apartment, which had ended up suiting them just fine. Of course, not even Joven and Wes's best efforts had been able to cheer Anthony up, but it was nice to have friends who were there to support him.
A pang went through him as he realized that, once upon a time, his go-to, always-supportive friend would have been Ian. Those were the days, he couldn't help but think. Things had been so simple and perfect back then. I have to see if Ian and I can get back to that point.
Because if they couldn't go back to being friends and their relationship continued to be the train wreck it had been lately, then Smosh—and everything Anthony had been doing during the last twelve years of his life—would have to end.
It felt immensely weird to be knocking on the door to his own apartment, but Anthony did so anyway. Hopefully, Ian wouldn't decide not to let him in. Hopefully, he'd actually be willing to talk in a civil manner. Hopefully, this meeting wouldn't end in another fight.
Ian opened the door after only twenty seconds. His expression was carefully blank, but Anthony knew him well enough to detect the stiffness in his posture and the residual hurt and anger in his eyes.
They stared at each other for a few moments while Anthony tried to drown out the last words Ian had said to him as they replayed in his head. The sight of his crystal blue eyes, stupid bowl haircut, and clean-shaven cheeks (incidentally, Anthony always preferred it when Ian had a beard—was that part of why he'd shaved recently?) brought a potent mixture of broken love and brewing anger to the forefront of Anthony's mind.
"Anthony," Ian said curtly by way of greeting.
"Hi, Ian. Can I come in?"
God, this was so weird. Why did it feel so much like when he'd tried to remain friends with Kalel after their breakup?
"Of course," Ian responded, but there was nothing gracious or welcoming in his tone. "This is your place too."
Anthony just nodded and stepped inside. Daisy bounded up to him, wagging, and gave him a greeting that was a thousand times more welcoming than Ian's had been. Anthony scratched the German shepherd's ears affectionately and tried to ignore her owner, who was standing just behind him and not saying a word.
Anthony straightened and walked farther into the apartment. The place was absurdly clean—cleaner than it'd ever been since Ian and Anthony moved in. Anthony quirked an eyebrow. Evidently Ian's way of coping with his emotions was by distracting himself. This observation made Anthony kind of sad and kind of illogically angry.
"So, Anthony, what are you doing here? I kind of thought you were gone for good." Ian's tone provided no hints regarding whether he'd hoped that would be the case or desperately wished that it wouldn't.
His inability to read Ian was already starting to piss Anthony off, but he told himself to remain calm. You're not here to fight. "Ian, we need to talk. About us and the future."
Ian frowned. "Let's sit down then."
They took seats across from each other at the dining room table and Anthony was once again harshly reminded of how weird this was. They'd hardly ever sat at this table in the years that they'd lived here.
"Our relationship's a mess," Anthony said bluntly, deciding to dive right into the central issue. "Hell, I'm not even sure we have a relationship at this point, but whatever. We've got to fix it."
"If you're looking for an apology—"
Anthony held back a sigh. "I won't get one. I know. All I want is to talk about what we're going to do. If we break up, what happens to Smosh?"
Ian looked away from Anthony. "I don't know," he said tensely.
"Yeah. And that's why I'm here." He gave up trying to hold back his sigh and exhaled heavily. "Look, I think we both know we're not going to be able to be romantic partners at this point. Shit, that's been obvious for months now, I just…." He cleared his throat, not wanting to admit how much he'd fought against the notion that his relationship with Ian was ending. "Anyway, I think we need to see if we can go back to being friends, or at least, you know, get to a point where we can stand to make videos together."
"No," Ian said firmly, crossing his arms and redirecting his attention to Anthony. "You think we can just go back to being friends after all this? It's not gonna happen."
"I know it doesn't seem likely, and it's probably about as desirable to you as it is to me, but what's going to happen to Smosh if we can't manage to get along?"
"It ends. Smosh is us, Anthony, and it always has been. If our relationship is over, then Smosh is too."
Anthony felt a cold trickle of dread deep in his gut at Ian's words, but he covered it with the heat of an angry scoff. "Is this your way of saying you want us back together? Because that's a hell of a lot different from what you seemed to want last time I saw you."
Ian scowled at him. "No, I'm saying that after all we've been through, we can never go back to what we were. It's not going to work."
"Great," Anthony snarled, fed up with Ian disagreeing all the time. "Aren't you just so fucking helpful, Hecox."
"Why the hell should I be helpful?" Ian growled back.
"I'm just trying to figure this out, goddammit! We can't abandon our life's work and the twenty-five million people who love us for it just because we're fighting every other fucking day!" Anthony bolted to his feet and started pacing around the dining room, running a hand through his hair over and over, damning the fact that he'd spent half an hour carefully styling it that morning. How the hell had his control of his temper slipped away from him so fast?
He turned back to Ian and sighed again, this time blowing out as much air from his lungs as he could. "We're not going to fix anything if we're fighting," he said woodenly, looking at the table rather than his former lover. "Let's try to be civil."
Ian opened his mouth to say something but then shut it before snapping, "Fine. But I'm not taking anything I said back. Face it, Anthony: this is the end of Smosh."
"So that's it for you? Our relationship doesn't work out and suddenly you're just willing to throw everything away and damn the consequences?"
"Don't you dare suggest I don't give a shit about Smosh," Ian said, his blue eyes flashing. "Because I do. I always have. But if we keep making videos and they turn out to be utter bullshit, do you really think that's worth it? You think the fans are gonna be happy with that?"
"Who says the videos would be bullshit?" Anthony asked indignantly. "You don't think we could work something out?"
"No! For god's sake, Anthony, where the hell have you been the past six months?! We can't do anything without fighting about it, much less make decent Smosh videos!"
What Ian was saying finally sunk in for Anthony. "I—I can't lose Smosh, Ian," he said softly, looking at the shiny wood floor at his feet. "It's been my whole life."
For the first time, Ian's expression softened and Anthony was able to glimpse the man he'd fallen wildly in love with. "I know. But we always said it would have to end at some point."
"Not like this," Anthony said adamantly, shaking his head. "You don't get it. I've never even had a real fucking job—what the hell would I do with myself?"
Ian's expression shifted back to one of annoyance. "Well, maybe you should try what I've been doing the last few days and figure something out instead of sitting there and insisting that we can still be friends!"
Anthony blinked and frowned. "You—you've actually been thinking about this?"
Ian rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid. I knew things between the two of us were falling apart. I wanted a backup plan. For the record," he said venomously, "I've found a job writing scripts for another YouTube channel."
The fact that Ian had already found a replacement for Smosh hurt almost as much as some of the things he'd said during their last fight. Anthony was swiftly slipping into a panic. Smosh… ending. What would the fans think? Would they ever get to know the truth, or would the videos just suddenly… stop? "Ian, we can't do this. We just can't!"
"Dear god, Anthony!" Ian exclaimed. "Is this really all about Smosh for you? Is that the only damn thing you care about? Because I haven't heard you say a single thing about not wanting our relationship to end! What about the fact that we're throwing away seventeen years of friendship?"
Anthony glared at Ian. "Of course I care about that! But after the past six months, I barely even remember what it was like to actually get along with you! It's pretty damn hard to mourn something that's been gone that long. And to be honest, I'm fucking relieved that all this bullshit is finally going to be over!"
No matter how hard Ian was to read at times, his barriers were totally gone in that instant, letting Anthony clearly glimpse his hurt, despair, and hint of agreement at Anthony's words. "Fine," he said, sounding more weary than angry. "Then get out of here, Anthony. We're done."
Anthony stared at his former boyfriend for a long moment, feeling inexplicably as though he needed to memorize every curve and line of his face. He felt like there was a bottomless void in his chest and his heart was now in permanent freefall.
Then he forced himself to turn and leave the apartment—and the life—they'd shared behind him, closing the door on the man he loved and hated more than anyone.
