Title: Waiting
Wordcount: 620
Author's Notes: Waiting for Ian. Anthony's POV.
Anthony is up first. It's become kind of a habit. He gets up first, makes his bed, goes to the kitchen, prepares breakfast and then... and then he waits for Ian to join him.
The first week Anthony cared a lot about Ian not showing up for breakfast. He would drag him out of his bed, throw away Ian's blanket, turn on the lights, play loud music in the living room. Until Ian would finally show up. He would sit with Anthony at the breakfast table, he would butter up a piece of bread and slurp down his coffee. He would sit there and just be. He wouldn't wish Anthony a "Good Morning." He wouldn't say a single word. His eyes would be fixed on his food. Ice-blue eyes. Cold. Lifeless. Emotionless. His mood would vary between mild anger, hardcore rage and just being pissed at Anthony. After he'd finish his poor excuse of a breakfast, he would go back to his room, close the door and continue sleeping.
So that's why Anthony cared less the second week, only waking Ian up every second day. The third week Anthony wanted to have Ian around at least for a big Sunday breakfast. Yet since that was barely possible to accomplish with Ian having changed the locks to his room, Anthony began to eat and live alone in the big house. It seemed more empty now than ever.
It's the fifth week of Ian's silent treatment. Anthony doesn't know how it all started and why and what happened and honestly,... He doesn't care anymore. He cares for his tea, and his bowl of fruit.
Anthony's sitting on the couch, watching TV, eating his breakfast. It's 2 hours later that Ian shows up. Anthony feels Ian's eyes drilling into his side. He takes a quick peak and sees tousled hair, red eyes, untrimmed beard. Anthony can smell Ian's alcohol breath all the way to the couch. Makes him want to puke.
"When did you come home last night?", he asks.
"Four.", is the short answer. Ian's voice is rough, deep, almost inaudible. Bored even?
"Wanna eat?"
No answer. Ian just walks over to the kitchen and opens the fridge.
"There's nothing in here but your fucking vegan stuff." He slams the fridge door shut. "What the hell am I supposed to eat?"
Anthony doesn't respond. He grabs the remote and turns the volume of the TV up shutting out Ian's rants completely.
Ian storms past him. Anthony keeps on watching TV. This is the only thing he can focus on right now. Music videos. Loud music. Colors. Fast cuts that almost trigger seizures. He has finished his fruit salad and his tea. He waits for Ian to reappear. He waits. Again.
Ian comes back five music videos later with a packed traveling bag in his hand.
"Guess it would have never worked out anyway, huh?", Ian says to a completely stunned Anthony.
He doesn't expect these kinds of words from Ian. Not after all those horrible weeks of silence and desperation. Of unnoticed tears he cried in his bedroom. Of lonely hours in the big house without Ian. Of waiting for Ian to return home from his nightly trips.
Anthony can't quite figure out Ian's tone. Does he sound sad? Or defeated? Angry? But there's no more time to answer, or to react. His silence has said it all.
"See you around, Anthony."
With that, Ian walks past Anthony, opens the front door and … he is gone. Just like that he vanishes from Anthony's life.
Anthony doesn't stop him. His heart feels lighter, no more burden on his shoulders, no more weight that is dragging him down. No more waiting for Ian.