Diagnoses
I know what you're up to Ian.
Stop trying. It's working too good.
That's not who you are.
You're trying to seem innocent and be the caring one when really,
The caring one is me.
January 2013
Anthony was sitting on his brown leather couch, a ball of fur curled up next to him. The house silent, the other living roommates out. The atmosphere consisted of small, faint purrs from the sleeping feline and the tatter of texting emitting from Anthony's IPhone. A knock disrupting the peace and serenity of the area. The tall brunette man gently lifted himself off of the warm couch and slipped on his sandals, heading to the origin of said knock.
He unlocked the door and was greeted by a pair of icy blue eyes and disheveled bowled hair.
"Oh hey man."
"Hey, um, here."
Anthony looked down at the USB the shorter man held out to him.
"Oh uh thanks but, you didn't have to drive all the way over here man. You could've called me so I could go and pick it up or even better e-mail it to-"
"No no, it's fine really."
"Well, would you like to come in? No ones home you know..."
Ian looked down at the dusty ground, as if contemplating the situation at hand. He lifted his head and with the best phony smile Anthony could clearly see through he simply stated,
"I have to go, see you later Ant."
And left.
March 2013
"So what game do you think we should play?"
Anthony questioned the blue eyed man knelt on the ground, adjusting the console in the Smosh Game room.
"I don't care."
Anthony looked up from his phone to question the stoic reply but, understood the circumstance as he witnessed the pale man texting on his android.
"That game was good right?" Anthony pushed aside his bangs to avoid his sweat sticking to them.
"Uh huh."
Ian replied once again busy texting on his phone.
"So how ab-"
"Listen man, I kinda gotta get going so..."
"Oh, it's cool, bye then."
April 2013
The duo had just finished filming the final scene for a video that was scheduled in two weeks. All that was left in the meantime was to edit it up until then. The film crew finished the last of carefully storing away their cameras and winding up their cables. They folded back the umbrellas and lights and put them in their desired compartments. They bid farewell and exited the suburban Sacramento house. Leaving the two youtubers alone. Anthony had just finished changing wardrobe when he heard the door close for a second time and lock. He sped walked to the living room to be greeted by nothing but and looked both ways.
"Ian?"
In response a car outside was backing out of the garage, lights illuminating the dark night of California and quickly driving away, away from their home. He left. Without a suggestion. They always stay afterwards to talk or just goof off but, it seems that even that liberty and pleasure has been taken away from the Latin man. Even if he didn't want to admit to himself why.
He had diagnoses.
He diagnosed that they were fading apart, little by little.
He diagnosed that all he ever did was work.
He diagnosed that he spent a little too much time with his significant other.
He diagnosed Ian as ill.
Ill in the sense that Ian missed him and he missed him too.
And he knew Ian would never admit it, so that's why he's running away, in a sense.
But what could Anthony say?
They were all just his,
Diagnoses.