Chapter Text
Anthony tells Ian he’s leaving Smosh on a Tuesday, in the middle of a shoot week.
Hands combing through his hair. He says, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Ian doesn’t say anything meaningful in response. In the coming years, he does feel badly about this. Anthony deserved more than a shrug and a, “Could you hold off until it’s the end of the shoot week? We could use the creative meeting next Monday, even. Make it easier for everyone.”
Anthony stares at him for a while, and then says, “Sure. Whatever makes it easier, I guess.”
Ian nods at him. Then he goes to a private office somewhere on the fifth floor of the Defy building, the one that’s always unlocked. He feels himself cry, and he still doesn’t feel it.
***
David meets with him on Fridays. In the late afternoons. Anthony does not know about these meetings, except for the first one.
Ian had felt strangely about it the first time it appeared on his calendar. He didn’t want to take a one-to-one about Smosh without Anthony. He even told Anthony about it.
Anthony was very concerned with a Smosh Games video at the time. He was overseeing the edit, even though it wasn’t really his job. He was leaning over Tommy’s shoulder in the editing bay, frown set in his face. Ian tried to pull him off to a corner, but he could tell that Tommy could still hear them. He had his headphones set an angle, left ear free.
“Oh,” said Anthony, after Ian explained the situation. “Well, why don’t you tell me what it’s about. We can see what to do from there.”
“Sure,” said Ian, and Anthony clapped him on the shoulder and went back to looking at the edit, seemingly not noticing the way Ian’s stomach was flipping over in his chest.
That was 2016.
***
When Anthony leaves, they film a video about it. Ian hugs him in the video and tries to pretend that his skin isn’t crawling.
There’s no wrap party. Ian doesn’t throw one either. He gets the feeling that Anthony wouldn’t appreciate it.
There’s a moment as they’re leaving the office. It’s the day after the last cast sketch with Anthony was filmed. It’s just Ian and Anthony in the office. Ian had gone to Dave’s office punctually. Anthony hadn’t asked where Ian was going and Ian hadn’t told him anything. The meeting lasted thirty minutes. Ian had kept track of the time on his watch religiously.
They both walk to their cars together. Ian, more slowly than Anthony. Anthony slows down to keep pace with him. They’d long since dropped the habit of parking next to each other, but this time, they’d managed it. Ian wonders quietly if Anthony had done it on purpose.
Anthony clears his throat as he reaches the door of his car. He’s just before Ian’s.
“I’ll miss you,” he says. “I really will.”
“Me too,” says Ian, and is surprised by how much he means it. He hadn’t thought he was capable of that kind of sincerity anymore.
“Maybe—maybe…” Anthony began to say, and then hesitated. His hand jerked out, aborted. Ian still stepped away, and he could feel the movement through the air as he did.
“I’m glad you don’t have to stay,” Ian suddenly says, unsure why he’s talking. He jams his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You shouldn’t have to. Defy’s a—Defy’s evil. You gotta go while you can.”
Anthony stares at him. His eyes grow wider. “Then why won’t you come with me?”
Angry. He’s angry at me, Ian thinks, and swallows so hard it hurts his throat.
“If I go,” he says, “I don’t know what will happen. And that—that’s terrifying, and I can’t…”
“You and I,” says Anthony suddenly. “You and I could make something else. We’ve done it once, we could do it again.”
He steps up to Ian. Ian, without ever meaning to, steps back. The moment breaks like wind against a mountain.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Anthony, under his breath. He reaches into his jacket pocket and presses a button on his car fob. Ian hears the doors click open.
And that’s that, Ian supposes.
***
It was before Ian met Melanie and Anthony met Kalel.
It was seven months. It was nothing in the grand scheme of their other relationships. But it was something—maybe because they still remained friends afterward, or that they still lived together for a month after, and it was okay. Maybe it was because their relationship didn’t break apart until much later, making it something rare, something no one else could understand.
Between when Ian and Anthony graduated, and when Smosh really started taking off—between eighteen and nineteen years old—they were together. They were in love.
And it was Ian who ruined it, completely and utterly. And that was just how it went.
***
The Defy collapse is unexpected. When it’s announced, Ian can’t say how he feels.
Everyone panics. Courtney starts crying and immediately calls Shayne, then reports that he’s coming by with a six-pack of Michelob. Damien can’t stop laughing and high-fiving people as if he’s just won the lottery, not lost his job. Ian can swear that he’d seen Tommy leaving with a computer monitor and hard drive tucked under his arm. Olivia keeps asking Noah questions about taxation and company law, as if he knows anything, and Noah keeps answering like he knows. Keith gets high in the parking lot with Spencer and looks Ian right in the face as he announces that that was what they were going to do.
All Ian can think about is that Dave hadn’t come into work, wouldn’t come into work, and would never again, and Ian will never have to see him again. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.
He winds up in a stairwell, saying that to himself. Both arms wrapped around him. Someone above him says, “It’s okay, man, it’s not over,” and he almost screams as hands reach out to touch him. It’s just Mari. She’s just trying to comfort him.
He looks her dead in the eyes, and says, “Don’t fucking say that, please, please, I won’t ever have to see that fucking bastard again,” and her face changes suddenly, and Ian wishes deeply that he hadn’t said that, that it hadn’t come out of his mouth like that.
“Baby,” she says, softer, and Ian’s crying, he knows he’s crying. Her touch is welcome now, gentle like a mother’s.
“Oh, my god,” she says so softly. “Oh, Ian.”
***
Dave’s office had one window. That one window had a blackout curtain. No one ever asked about it except in jest.
Once, Damien had made a joke about it. He hated Dave. Everyone did. Everyone did.
“It’s so that when he kills virgins and commits heinous acts, no one will see the blood on his carpet. He’s trying real hard not to get MeToo’d,” said Damien, in passing, when Courtney had pointed out, yet again, how weird a blackout curtain in an office setting was.
It was a funny joke. Courtney laughed. Shayne laughed. Sohinki laughed, and Mari laughed. And Anthony laughed.
Ian left the room and breathed in the bathroom, slowly, trying to copy Anthony’s mom’s anxiety techniques. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for four. And repeat.
***
Smosh was homeless. There was a time that Ian had thought he’d be happy about it. He hadn’t wanted it for so long. He’d just been with it so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else.
But there were jobs at stake. Courtney, and Damien, and Sarah, and even Shayne—they want it to keep going. They love it. They were so sad when it shut down.
A week after the Defy collapse, Ian started to meet with investors.
They would ask what Smosh was, why they should spend their money on it, and at first, Ian had no real answer for them. So he went through old videos. Every Blank Ever, of course, but also his sketches with Anthony, and the cast’s Show with No Name, and the genuine moments of friendship in Smosh Games. He wrote and rewrote mission statements. He breathed even and slowly. He perfected his pitch, his monetary estimations, his arguments toward the benefits of an independent business.
It didn’t work until Rhett and Link reached out.
The day he gets the email, asking him to meet in the next few days—he can’t help himself. He would have sent that email to Anthony, but.
So he sends it to Mari instead.
An hour and a half later, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Mari with a handle of whiskey. She smiles in the face of his Ring camera, and nods at him as she walks through the foyer. She would have hugged him in the past. Instead, she compliments his family and friends photos, pausing over a still of him and Anthony, and then asks what kind of mixers he could have.
“So if they make an offer, will you take it?” Mari asks him, once she pours ginger ale and whiskey into a glass and folds herself up on his couch.
“I mean,” says Ian, “I’ll want to advocate for as many employees as I can, but—yeah, I think so. They’re the only ones who can really—really understand what Smosh is. What it needs.”
She nods and sips at her drink. Ian’s had just enough that he feels warm. Fuzzy.
After a moment, Mari says, “I want to talk to you about something. And it doesn’t have to be today, because it may not be a pleasant conversation.”
“I know you and Peter are probably moving out to Vegas in the next few months,” Ian says. “You’ve already said. That’s okay. I want to offer a month-to-month invoice contract, actually, until you leave. If everything works out with Mythical, that is.”
“That’s not it,” says Mari, though her smile was growing on her face. “But that’s wonderful, Ian. I’d love that.”
“Good,” says Ian, and stretches out on his armchair. Then, after a moment: “Wait, so what is it?”
From his vantage point, he can see Mari chewing on her cheek. She sets her empty glass on an end table. “You’re not going to be happy with me,” she says.
Ian slowly straightens up from his seat.
“It’s just—when I found you,” she says. “During the Defy collapse.”
“It was nothing,” Ian says immediately.
Mari puts both of her hands up. “Then that’s fine,” she says, then chews on her cheek. “It’s just—if you ever… if it ever was something else. I would listen. That’s it, and I hope you know that.”
Ian sucks in a deep breath. His chest hurts. Is he breathing well? He may not be. He touches his sternum. His eyes are blurring. Jesus Christ, Ian thinks.
“Okay,” says Ian, and it’s choked. Mari is standing now, and then kneeling beside him.
“Can I touch you?” she’s asking gently. “You can say no. You can say no, Ian.”
"You can,” says Ian, and Mari grabs him like he’s a man in freefall. She shushes him, which is how he knows he’s crying and cannot really stop it.
“I’m sorry,” says Ian. “I really am, I’m so—I’m so sorry, fuck, I just—I’m so… it’s okay. I’m okay. Fuck, sorry, but I’m really okay, I swear.”
***
When Ian kissed Anthony, it wasn’t on purpose, really.
It was right after graduation. They celebrated with their parents, then found each other and it was so predictable that his mom had sent him to bed, saying, “We left the window unlatched for you and everything.”
Ian had driven to Anthony’s, and when he asked where Anthony wanted to go, Anthony said, “I sorta just want to cruise.”
So they did. They cut through downtown, then up through the wealthy section of town. Ian did donuts in the parking lot of their high school just for fun, and as they were driving down the boulevard away from it, Anthony said, “Hey, pull over here.”
It was the middle school, the one they both went to, and just down the road from the high school. Ian pulled into the parking lot, and Anthony reached over, hand over Ian’s on the gearstick, and put the car in park.
“I just wanted to say,” said Anthony, “that I’m really glad we met. That it really means a lot to me, and I’m happy everything’s been how it is. Smosh is—well, I don’t know where it’ll go, but I’ve been happier than I ever thought I would be, and that’s huge, and it wouldn’t be anything without you.”
And Ian looked over at Anthony, and couldn’t help but see how the street lights overhead reflected in his eyes, or the glare of headlights passing through the boulevard and the way it lit his face like a beacon every so often. It wasn’t really his fault that he leaned in and kissed him. And Anthony kissing back, hands wrapping around Ian’s cheeks so quickly?
It was everything he needed. In that moment, Ian couldn’t have ever been happier.
***
Rhett and Link are undeniably fantastic for the Smosh channels.
They agree to take on as much of the Defy team as they can, and it works out—some people Ian wouldn’t have hired back anyway, and some want to move on with different jobs they’ve gotten since the Defy shutdown. But the rest come back, save for the original Smosh Games crew.
Lasercorn writes Ian a kind note card signed by him, Sohinki, and Joven, and Mari gives it to him on a shoot day.
“They’re proud of you,” Mari says, and then wraps him in a hug. “I am, too.”
That’s been another change—Mari seems to look after Ian now. It’s not entirely unwelcome, but Ian wants to tell her it’s unnecessary. But telling her it was unnecessary would mean bringing up their conversation in Ian’s house, and Ian doesn’t want to do that either. So instead he accepts Mari’s hugs, her invitations to dinner every so often. It’s nice to catch up with Peter, at least, and to hear how he and Mari are doing aside from Smosh-related things.
Ian learns about Rhett and Link’s video schedules, the structure of their pitch meetings, and tries to copy it at Smosh. He learns that Shayne has ideas that for years were either ignored or warped by Defy. He asks for Tommy and Spencer to be in more videos after overhearing their jokes and snipes at each other in the editing bay. Shayne and Damien consistently make Try Not to Laugh better, more entertaining. Courtney is punctual, and cares deeply about Smosh, and her show pitches round out the channel, making it friendlier to teenagers and adults alike.
Ian has meetings with Rhett and Link on Fridays. It does not scare him. When he stops by their conference room, there were glass windows open wide with breezes flowing through. Rhett usually keeps a notebook on him, and Link asks Ian if he wants any coffee or tea. They praise the channels, the cast members, they talk about revenue sources and possible merch directions. They are nurturing.
It’s a good environment. Everyone seems a lot happier. Shayne laughs more, and Spencer actually holds full conversations with Ian, and their views start climbing, even past what they had been at Defy. Ian’s surprised.
At least, he thinks he’s surprised.
It’s Courtney who says it first. They’re at a pitch meeting, and she’s said something funny, and so Ian chuckles at it. She stops and looks at him.
“What?” says Ian.
“Nothing,” she says, and then bites her lip. “Well, it’s just that… you’ve been a lot more stoic. Since Anthony left. It’s nice to see you laugh a little, I guess.”
Ian blinks. Thinks about it. He’s never considered himself stoic. It’s just more that he doesn’t feel many things, nowadays.
Courtney quickly says, “We just want you to be happy, is all.”
“Oh,” says Ian quietly, suddenly feeling horribly out of place. Everyone at the table nods as if she’s said something true. “Well. Um. Thanks.”
***
Dave was a monster. Ian would have told anyone who listened to him.
But they didn’t, really. Or at the very least, when he complained about him, everyone would say, “Yeah, he sucks,” as if they understood. They didn’t understand.
Dave should have been locked up. He should have been rotting in a prison cell.
When Anthony finally got around to asking what Ian’s one-on-one was about with Dave, Ian’s brain hiccuped. His eyes were blank. He must’ve said something about not wanting to be there, in that room with him.
Anthony had laughed a bit and clapped Ian’s shoulder with his hand. “So real, man,” he said. “I don’t know anyone who would want to be alone in that creepy fucking office of his. And anyway, what’s up with that crazy blackout curtain of his?”
***
Mythical is big enough to have a human resources department, but Smosh isn’t big enough to have its own branch. Rhett and Link talk to him about it, and say that there should be a representative from Smosh who can advocate on behalf of a Smosh employee if necessary. Ian blinks at Rhett and Link and then says, “I don’t think I should be the representative.”
Rhett cocks his head at Ian while Link says, “Yeah, we agree. We were going to ask you to nominate an employee, actually. Someone you trust, and who is generally trusted around the office.”
“Oh,” says Ian. He feels a bit dumb. He crosses his legs and settles his hands around his knee, then they migrate to the conference table in front of him. “It’s just—um. That’s not how it worked at Defy. At Defy… someone with a lot of power also was the HR representative for Smosh. And I don’t think it should’ve been that way. That’s all. So. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that.”
Rhett nods. He taps his fingers on his notebook.
Link leans forward and says, “I’m sorry you had such a toxic work environment before, Ian. I hope you know that that’s something we actively try to avoid here at Mythical.”
“Yes,” says Rhett. “Yes, it is.”
Ian swallows hard, and then nods. “Thank you. I feel at home here. I know all of the other Smosh members do, too.”
***
There’s always been something beautiful about Anthony.
Even with his terrible haircut, his ill-fitting clothes, it was impossible to hide. He was radiant, Ian thought, like a moonbeam, like a street lamp over an empty highway. You can’t help but look at him.
He knew that everyone who watched Smosh agreed with him—hell, he knew that a lot of their viewers watched for him, and him alone. Ian can’t argue with them. He thinks he would be the same way if he was on the other side of it all.
In retrospect, it may be what tore them apart.
When they kissed, they didn’t talk about it. They just started kissing. It was the same with the sex. One-on-one, Anthony would extend his arm and Ian would lean into it. They switched off paying for takeout. Sometimes, they went out to lunch and Anthony would wrap his ankle around Ian’s under the table.
Ian sometimes wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t want to ever seem too earnest. It wasn’t as if Anthony didn’t have prospects. Everyone knew he was a catch. The fact that Ian had caught him first must have been some kind of cosmic fluke.
A month into their new dynamic, Anthony speaks up while they’re watching television. Arm around Ian’s shoulder, he said, “What are we?”
Ian had said, “We can be anything you want,” and then pressed his forehead into Anthony’s neck. Anthony took that as the end of the conversation, then, and just kissed the top of Ian’s head.
***
Ian asks Lisa to be the HR representative at Mythical.
“Obviously it comes with pay benefits,” he explains to her. “You’d be doing extra work. But it’s important work, and you’re someone I really trust to do it right.”
She listens, patient. She always does. At the end, she smiles at him and says, “I’m honored you’d trust me with this, Ian. I’d be happy to advocate for anyone at Smosh who feels they might need it.”
Ian feels the muscles in his back relax. He smiles at her. “Thank you,” he says. “I think having someone like you who people can go to… I think it’ll be a lot better. Than it was before, I mean.”
Lisa smiles at him. “Yeah. Dave Dilford was a bit of an asshole, wasn’t he?”
Ian feels his palms go cold with sweat. He bites something back, and he isn’t sure what it is.
His voice says, “Dave never—he never… it wasn’t bad, was it? For you?”
Lisa’s face changes, but Ian can’t really identify how. She shifts in her seat. “No, I didn’t mean—I mean, he sucked, and he made rude comments to everyone on staff, and everybody knew that. But it wasn’t—nothing really terrible. Not ever, Ian. I promise. To the best of my knowledge, I mean.”
“Okay,” Ian says, and avoids settling his hands on his chest. Better not to make her worried. It was fine. It was fine.
“I just think. If it had been bad—it would’ve been my fault,” says Ian.
Lisa hesitates. “It wouldn’t have been, though,” she says quietly. “It really wouldn’t have.”
***
Dave presented an arrangement during their first meeting.
“I think we should keep this private,” he said. “There’s no need to get anyone else involved. I’m sure they wouldn’t like getting involved, anyway.”
Ian was shaking like a leaf. He was sore. He nodded firmly. His thoughts drifted to Anthony, to Courtney, to Shayne, to Olivia, to Keith, to Noah. To Anthony. He nodded again.
“Good,” said Dave. “Good.”
***
At the next Vidcon, Anthony actually bumps into Ian.
It may be on purpose. Ian can never really tell with him. They’re just at the same party, because of course they are, and Noah and Keith came with him but had fucked off to smoke in a back room with a commentary YouTuber that Ian can’t really remember the name of. They offered to take him with them, but Ian doesn’t like smoking anymore. The paranoia takes over. He doesn’t like feeling like he can’t breathe.
He’s about to get another beer from the bar when Anthony shoulders into him. Then he laughs, bright and clear. Ian turns and really looks at him. His eyes are sparkly under the dim lights of the afterparty venue.
“Damn, sorry man,” says Anthony, then claps a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Hey, I saw Smosh was bought by Mythical! That’s such fucking good news, man.”
Ian tries to smile at him, and doesn’t know how it comes across. “Thanks,” he says.
“I’m really glad you stuck with it,” Anthony says. “You took care of it. That’s really something.”
“Yeah,” Ian says. He wonders if his voice sounds thick to Anthony. He swallows hard. The bartender finally looks at Ian, but Ian just waves a hand at him, and he goes instead to service someone else at the end of the bar.
Anthony says, almost a bit earnestly, “Hey. Would you wanna take a smoke break?”
Ian never really smoked cigarettes, except for a few puffs of someone else’s, here and there. It had been a code phrase when they were together, and when they were single afterward. Anthony would smoke, and then kiss Ian silly.
“Miel?” Ian asks, mouth dry.
Anthony smiles, a bit rueful. “Broke up two months ago,” he says.
Ian lets Anthony lead him out. It’s quiet outside, the humid air sticking to Ian’s skin as Anthony pulls out a pack of Camels and offers a cigarette to Ian. Ian shakes his head, almost on autopilot. Anthony smiles at him as he flicks a Bic lighter, lighting up the end orange and yellow.
“I, ah,” Ian says, not sure what he’s going to say, and that’s when Anthony moves the cigarette away from his mouth and kisses Ian.
It’s not unexpected. Hell, it’s what he came here for. The tobacco smoke is sweet and acrid in his mouth. He doesn’t cough as Anthony pulls away, but he’s also deeply, acutely aware that he can’t do this.
It takes him aback. He’s been with others since Anthony.
But not another guy, he realizes. Not since Dave.
It shouldn’t matter, though. It shouldn’t.
Ian leans up and presses his mouth back against Anthony’s. He can feel Anthony’s smile, the gentle press of his lips, the way his tongue dances between their lips. And he can’t do this.
He pulls away. Anthony follows, for just a moment, before blinking at him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t—this isn’t…”
Anthony bites down on his cheek. “Ian,” he says, but doesn’t say anything else.
“I’m proud of you,” he says. “You deserve everything you’ve gotten. I’m really sorry I can’t do anything for you.”
He turns and walks toward the venue again. He knows Anthony won’t follow him because he never has. He makes one haphazard circle, then heads out to the emergency exit door someone’s propped open with a beer bottle. He should probably call an Uber back to his hotel, but instead he walks the fifteen minutes back, risking crumbling sidewalk and an empty, dark street, halfway wishing someone would crash into him just so he could feel something at all.
***
Ian almost told Anthony he loved him six months in.
It was stupid. Just a filming angle, and Anthony looking up at the viewfinder with a goofy face. Ian could feel it building in his chest. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions. His mom always called him a gentle spirit.
Instead of saying anything, Ian cut the cameras and pressed a kiss to the tip of Anthony’s nose. “That was perfect,” he said. “This skit’s gonna kill, I can tell.”
Anthony smiled at him from his position on their couch. “Where’s that coming from?”
“I’m just really happy,” Ian said.
Anthony smirked at him, and then spread his knees a bit more. An invitation. Ian knelt in front of him immediately, making Anthony cackle.
“You’re so predictable,” said Anthony, and leaned in to kiss Ian deeply.
***
Smosh has started a series where cast members interview their exes.
It’s been doing moderately well. At the very least, it’s doing better than other videos they’ve tried for the main channel, so they keep doing it, rotating who’s in the hot seat.
And now, it’s Ian’s turn.
In hindsight, maybe he should have said something about certain people being off-limits. But a vital part of the sketches are that the person in the hot seat is surprised. It’s where a lot of the comedy is derived from.
And the first two “exes” are funny. Tommy is the bodyguard for Ian’s old bowl cut, apparently, and Damien comes straight out of left field to play a Victorian child. Ian isn’t even sure what the connection is with Damien’s, to be honest, but it’s a really funny character, and he’s able to crack a few jokes at Ian’s expense anyway, which is really all that matters.
And then Shayne comes out.
Of all things, it’s the shirt that gets Ian. It’s the same that Dave always wore. Blue-checked, casually tucked into his pants. The mixed rim glasses, too. The stupid fucking smile on his face that Shayne had somehow perfected.
He doesn’t realize how still he’s grown until Kiana calls ‘cut.’
“Sorry,” Ian says, shaking himself. He forces himself to look away from Shayne, and then finds that he can’t look back at him. At any of them. He opts for his hands instead. How perfectly still they are.
“It’s, ah,” Kiana says, and then stops herself. “How about we go ahead and take a quick break?”
He hears, more than sees, everyone step away from their positions. He breathes. Shuts his eyes, then opens them again.
Shayne is still there, but it seems he’s purposely messed up his hair. The glasses have been removed entirely, tucked into his back pocket. He looks like Shayne again.
“Hey, man,” Shayne says quietly. He’s shoved his hands into his front pockets, but it’s not in the way he does when he’s trying to act douchey. This time, he just seems genuinely nervous. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” says Ian. He keeps his eyes on Shayne’s face, and not the checked shirt. “Yeah, of course.”
“It’s just—” Shayne looks around. Damien and Tommy have left the set entirely. “Well, when I came out, dressed as—in my costume. I mean, it really seemed like you’d seen a ghost or something.”
“I’m just. Not really a fan of. Of Dave,” says Ian. “It just caught me off-guard. But we can—we can do a retake. I’ll act surprised, I think it’ll be fine.”
Shayne watches him for a moment longer, then shakes his head. He says, “Don’t worry about it,” and steps away, going back behind the curtain he’d emerged from.
Ian forces himself up off the stool, stretches his shoulders out. As if following a cue, Damien wandered over, his Newsies-esque hat set on his head backward like a baseball cap.
“Kiana said it might be a few more minutes,” he says casually. “Have you stopped by crafty? I can grab you something.”
Ian stares at him. “Um, thanks. I have legs.”
“Yeah, I know, obviously,” Damien says easily, clapping his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “But sometimes I forget how to use mine. I stand up and I just go all over the place. What, that’s not a common problem?”
Ian forces himself to crack a smile. More out of habit than anything else. The worry lines pull away from Damien’s eyes. Which means he was worried in the first place, which isn’t good.
He clears his throat, looking around the set for Kiana. Maybe if he talked to her, he could convince her that everything was fine, and it wasn’t worth losing more time than needed on a ‘break’ that only seemed to benefit Ian.
Only there she was, clipboard in hand, already walking over to him. Damien lets go of Ian, saying something about grabbing water for the both of them. Before Ian can say that it’s not really necessary, Kiana’s already speaking.
“Shayne just let me know he’s been dealing with a migraine,” she says. “He said he thought he could make it through the shoot, but the lights are really bothering him, and he thinks he may be getting an aura now. Since we can’t do the shoot without him, I’m thinking we shelve this one and let everyone go a little early.”
Ian frowns. He looks around. Everyone’s backed up to give them space, because of course they have.
He says lowly to Kiana, “I know what you guys are doing, but I’m seriously okay. I can make it through the shoot. I already told Shayne that I was just caught off-guard.”
Kiana sighs softly, and tucks a braid behind her ear. “It’s not about that, Ian,” she says. “I’m going to be honest with you, okay? Because I respect and care about you, and so does everyone here. We signed off on Shayne’s character because we thought it would be a funny throwback.”
She pauses, and then drums her fingers on the clipboard. “The look on your face when Shayne came out in costume—it wasn’t funny. And it scared me, and I think a couple of other people on set, to be quite honest. None of us want to have to see you like that. I don’t know what your history is with Dave, or what would make you react like that, but it’s enough for me to think that this shoot isn’t worth it. And the fans will know if you’re not into it, anyway. So just let us—let us do this for you. Please.”
Ian swallows hard. His throat is suddenly very dry. Maybe Damien will come through with that water after all.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says.
Kiana places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t apologize,” she says. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Ian nods.
“I’m going to go let the others know,” she says. “Do you have a shoot the rest of the day?”
“No,” Ian says.
“Okay,” she says, like she’s pronouncing the word ‘good.’ “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Sure,” Ian says. As she turns to leave, Ian takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. It’ll mess with the upload schedule for the main channel, he knows, and people will ask why Ian won’t do an interview with his exes video, and they’ll make jokes about Anthony, and Kiana will be so careful around him now, like Mari, and Ian doesn’t want that, she’s meant to be his employee and he’s meant to take care of her.
When he opens his eyes, he’s somehow found his way back to his office. He blinks, and then goes to turn off the light. He lays down on the couch, and doesn’t sleep, doesn’t shut his eyes again, but time seems to slide away until the sun slants differently through the window and it’s time to go home, so he does.
***
It felt like Dave was everywhere at Defy.
He was at pitch meetings, at shoots. He was walking up to Anthony and touching his shoulders, the small space between his shoulder blades. He was curling his lip in disdain at a Games shoot, he was adjusting lighting without being asked, he was rolling down the blackout curtain in his office, he was smiling like a snake as Ian kneels down in front of him, he was in Ian’s blood and his bones, in the water in his eyes and the breath in his lungs.
Ian stopped sleeping so much, stopped eating so much, he went on dates and didn't ever text the girls back, he was considering getting back together with Pam and then biting hard into the meat of his own arm as he told her no, it won’t work, Ian was different now, he’s got too much going on. Anthony wasn't looking at him and Ian wondered if it was because he was so full of bad things that Anthony can tell, and Ian was vomiting in the bathrooms at work and washing his mouth out with soap whenever he thinks about Dave, which was often, because he had seeped into all things. He was water damage in Ian’s brain. He was the fluid caught in Ian’s ears.
Ian imagined he’ll die one day, and all there would be is a eulogy of who Ian used to be, and it would only be things that happened before Defy, before Dave, because he was only half a person anymore, and it must be so evident to everyone around him.
When his mom calls, the conversations get shorter and shorter.
So did Ian’s conversations with Anthony.
***
Ian had half-expected the interview shoot to ruin everything, but things keep miraculously going, and even going well.
They’re able to hire on more freelance actors, and Ian’s involved in the casting process, which is a welcome change from last time. Of course the original cast ended up being a vital part of Smosh, sticking with it and shaping it to what it is now—and God knows where Ian would be without all of them today, honestly. But it was also unfair that Ian and Anthony weren’t part of the casting process to begin with.
With everyone’s agreement, they end up bringing on Jackie and Amanda, and then Chanse and Angela, and finally Arasha. They’re all so funny and dynamic on camera it actually makes Ian feel a bit threatened, sometimes, before he realizes that they’re just inspiring him to make better work, to work harder. The views on every channel begin to climb. Ian almost halfheartedly pitches “Let’s Do This,” and is surprised by how much everyone likes the idea. Their first shoot almost leaves Ian in stitches from how hard he’s laughing.
Everything isn’t perfect, of course. Sarah Whittle chooses to leave, and Lisa tentatively suggests letting Matt Raub go, and Ian understands and listens to her because he doesn’t want to ever seem like someone dismissing the concerns of others. It’s a hard conversation to have.
Keith is diagnosed with cancer. Damien admits to having depression and has to miss a few key videos on the channels. And Kiana, Shayne and Mari keep trying to “talk” to Ian.
He knows they don’t know what happened, not really, and he knows it doesn’t matter anyway in the grand scheme of things. Yes, Dave took advantage of him and threatened him so he wouldn’t tell anyone. That was true. But what was also true was that Defy was dead and gone, and Ian would never see Dave again, and his life was a lot better now, so it was a negligible thing now. Just a stupid thing that happened to him and wouldn’t happen to him again, and that was all.
Ian doesn’t miss how Kiana runs every character in a sketch by him, now. He doesn’t miss that Mari still texts him, even all the way out in Vegas. He doesn’t miss that Shayne starts pulling stupid pranks on him, like hiding fake bananas in his office just to see if he’d smile.
He also doesn’t miss the one time Noah makes an edgy joke about male rape during a Try Not to Laugh, and Shayne comes out from behind the screen just to tell him, so seriously, to shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Ian isn’t even in the video, he’s just in the room watching everyone, and still Shayne seems to seek out Ian, eyes darting to and from him in the same moment that Ian knows no one else catches the glance except for him. It doesn’t stop his heart from beating faster.
Shayne says to Kiana, “You need to cut that bit out. I don’t fucking care if it made Olivia laugh. It can’t air.”
“Okay,” Kiana says right away, which surprises everyone more than Shayne’s reaction.
Ian stays long enough to watch Shayne apologize to Noah, but stay firm that those jokes may be dark, but that doesn’t mean they’re funny, and you shouldn’t make them. Noah nods, obviously shaken by how serious Shayne is when he’s never that serious.
He watches the next round, Damien on the stool, and how he cackles at Shayne’s bits and chokes on water at the inanity of Olivia’s. Noah’s joke this round is just absurd instead of edgy, and it makes everyone in the studio laugh. Afterward, Jackie goes, and Ian figures it’s a safe time to slip out now. People won’t think he’s running away, now.
And he isn’t. He isn’t. He is breathing and everything is fine as it always has been.
It doesn’t matter what Shayne knows, or what he thinks he knows, and it’s the same for Kiana and Mari and maybe even Lisa. It’s all in the past now, and Ian breathes, and it’s normal, easy breath that pushes in and out of his lungs.
***
Ian and Anthony don’t really even break up.
It’s too quiet for that. It’s just them, getting busier at Smosh. No time for each other, just editing videos, uploading them to YouTube and to Smosh.com, where they get more and more views, more and more fans. They just get more and more successful.
It took two weeks for Ian to realize they haven’t slept together in that long. A few days before he realized they hadn't kissed, either. He didn’t say anything to Anthony. He didn’t want to rock the boat. When they went to parties, everyone looked at Anthony, not Ian, and it was for good reason, Ian knew it was.
Eventually, after a month, Anthony took Ian to his house and had him watch a video they were working on—something about Pokemon, something Ian barely remembered filming with their ramped-up filming schedule.
Halfway through the draft edit, Anthony paused the video. Ian blinked, then looked at Anthony. Anthony was looking at the computer monitor, not Ian.
He said, “A cute girl passed her number to me at that house party we went to, last week.”
Ian felt his stomach go cold. “Oh.”
Anthony looked up at him. “I didn’t know what to say.” Then, after a moment where Ian didn’t say anything in return: “What are we, Ian?”
Ian closed his eyes. He could feel the weight of the moment and how it pulled at his entire body, anchoring him to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything except, “I don’t know.”
Anthony breathed. “Okay,” he said. Then, after a moment: “Okay.”
A week later, Anthony mentioned during a shoot that he and the girl had gone out on a date. He’d been wringing his hands. His eyes had been flashing.
Ian had said, “Okay,” and they spoke no more of it.
***
Courtney and Shayne had approached Ian a while ago about dating, right after the pandemic. It was above board—they were coworkers, so no power imbalance. They’d need a meeting with HR, so Ian set up one between them, Lisa, and the Mythical HR team.
From what Lisa said, it went well, and she didn’t foresee any major problems going forward. If anything, she seemed excited—everyone at Smosh had known there was something between them for ages, so them finally going for it was basically confirmation that the Smosh team weren’t crazy. Lisa even mentioned something about collecting money from Sarah Whittle when she’d left, which Ian very responsibly ignored.
And it had been going well. So well, in fact, that Ian had overheard Spencer talking to Alex about an engagement betting pool (which Ian had very responsibly ignored, as well). Courtney and Shayne complimented each other in ways no one really expected. It was like they both chased each other’s smiles. It was almost unfair, how lovely they were to one another.
But today, something seemed to be different.
It starts when they take separate cars to work, which they never do. Courtney comes in uncharacteristically early, eyes dark. She nearly snaps at Ian when he says good morning to her, then apologizes so quickly it’s like she thinks she’ll be fired if she doesn’t get the words out in time. Shayne comes late, and looks subdued. He quietly talks to Kiana, and he’s switched out with Damien for a Challenge Pit video. One that Shayne and Courtney were supposed to appear in together.
Ian, on a whim, cancels a meeting so he can come to the shoot. As he’s walking onto the set, he hears Courtney complaining to Amanda, who’s listening with folded arms and a cocked head.
“It’s just like he doesn’t ever want to show any emotion,” Courtney’s saying. “I know I annoyed him last night, but he just won’t fucking say anything. And it makes me feel like I’m crazy, and he won’t elaborate when I ask him what’s wrong. Like, if he just explained he was tired, or something, I’d believe him, but instead it’s ‘I’m fine, Court,’ and, ‘why are you asking, Court?’, like I’m making it all up in my own head. I’m just so tired of it.”
Amanda nods. “Men are all the same, sometimes,” she says. “They never want to tell you how you’re actually feeling, and it can make you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong. It’s so frustrating.”
Courtney throws up her hands. “I know! ”
Just then, Kiana walks onto set, clipboard in hand as always. She smiles at Ian when she sees him. “Here to watch the shoot?”
Ian makes a show of checking his watch. “I actually just remembered I have a meeting in thirty,” he says apologetically. “But I know it’ll be good! I’m sorry I can’t stay.”
He retreats to his office, then rearranges his schedule even more, so his lunch hour is free. He isn’t the right one to talk to Shayne, Ian knows. But he also thinks he might be able to help.
Fifteen minutes before lunch is scheduled to be delivered to the office, Ian stops by Shayne’s desk. Instead of working, he’s watching a Family Guy compilation, which Ian, once again, very responsibly ignores. Shayne takes out his earbuds and looks up at Ian.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I was thinking you and I could take lunch in my office today,” Ian says. “It’s honestly nothing business-related. But you can tell everyone else it is, if it helps.”
Shayne blinks once, then twice, at him. “Sure,” he says slowly.
“Cool,” Ian says, and then tells himself to breathe until he meets with Shayne.
If he were completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t know what he was doing if anyone asked—he’d never talked about Anthony, honestly, since he’d left. And it’s not as if Shayne would find Ian’s opinion particularly validating. Ian was someone who hadn’t been in a serious relationship since 2016, who hadn’t actively sought it out, someone who Shayne thought was—
Well. Maybe at the end of the day, Ian just didn’t want to watch Shayne make the same mistakes as him.
When Shayne comes to Ian’s office, he’s holding a couple of stapled printer pages in his hands. Ian says, “Hey, what’s that?” and Shayne shrugs and folds them to a quarter, sticking it in his pocket.
“Something for later,” Shayne says easily. Then, he takes a deep breath, and purposely relaxes. “What’s up? What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Right,” Ian says, and then takes a deep breath. He takes the lid off his salad bowl—they did Sweetgreen today. He stabs at a piece of chopped avocado.
“Look, like I said, I consider this in a totally unofficial capacity,” Ian says. “Because I’d like to consider us friends outside of work, you know? But if I start making you uncomfortable as a boss. You say the word and I’ll drop it, and I can also call Rhett and Link. I don’t ever want to make anyone uncomfortable in this workplace.”
“Okay,” Shayne says, leaning forward. He’s schooling his face, Ian knows. For what, Ian isn’t sure.
He takes a deep breath. There’s no sense in leading up to something if you don’t reveal it, Ian thinks, so he just says, “Anthony and I used to be in a relationship.”
Shayne blinks. Then, quick as anything, something deep and dark passes over his face.
Ian feels his heart pick up. “It was—we were both—it was okay,” he hurries to say. “Seriously.”
Shayne blinks. “Why’d he leave Smosh?”
Ah, Ian thinks. He thinks that Anthony abandoned Ian. This, Ian can answer. “It was a really long time ago,” Ian says. “By the time Anthony got together with Kalel, we’d been—we hadn’t been together in years. There was never any overlap. And anyway, that’s not the point.”
“Okay,” Shayne says, sitting back in his seat. He picks up his fork, pokes at a cucumber in his salad bowl, then looks back up at Ian. He can’t help the smile spreading over his face, Ian thinks. “You know, there are so many people on Twitter who would kill for this kind of information.”
“Why do you think I’m telling you and no one else?” Ian says on reflex, and Shayne actually lets out a full-bodied laugh, his first all day. It makes Ian feel good, and he takes a real bite of his salad, chewing and swallowing before he continues.
“Anyway,” Ian says, “I’ve been thinking that—that a lot of why we didn’t work out, it had to do with me. There’s a lot there, a lot of history. But I think a part of it was that he’d want me to be honest with him. And I thought I was, at the time. But I think I know now that he was actually asking that I should be vulnerable with him. There’s a difference. It’s not something I’m good with, but there is a difference.”
Shayne raises his eyebrows. “Wait,” he says, “Is this… are you giving me relationship advice, right now?”
Ian shifts in his seat. He picks at his salad.
Shayne lets out a full-bodied laugh again, but it sounds not as amused, this time. “You are,” he says. “Wow, um. Yeah, okay.”
“Listen, I know I don’t have the best track record—” Ian starts.
“No, no, no,” Shayne interrupts quickly. “That’s not—I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything. It’s just. Not what I thought you’d want to talk about. But it’s good advice. I know Court hasn’t been the happiest with me today.”
“I may have overheard her at today’s shoot,” Ian admits, raising a hand to the back of his head. “It just reminded me of where I went wrong with my best friend. And I don’t want that to happen to you. I guess.”
He rubs his neck, trying to work out how tense the muscles have gotten there. Shayne nods. “I’ll talk to her,” he says. “I’m glad you talked to me, Ian. It matters a lot that you care enough about us to do this. I know it’s not in your comfort zone, per se.”
“I care about all of you,” Ian says quietly. He looks down at his food. Stabs at a leaf of lettuce, then pushes it off the tines of his fork with the side of the cardboard bowl. “Sorry if I don’t show it enough.”
“You show it plenty,” Shayne says gently. “I’m not trying to give you a backhanded compliment or anything like that. You’re a good person, Ian. You’re a good boss.”
“Thanks,” Ian says softly. They pick at their salads in silence for a few moments. Then, Shayne mentions that Court’s been getting into Squid Game a year too late, and they have plenty to talk about for the rest of the hour.
The next day, Shayne comes into the office with Courtney, smiling at her. Ian hears Amanda say to Angela, “Oh, thank God. That would’ve been a nightmare for everyone.”
“You’re telling me,” says Angela, shuddering.
Ian smiles. He’s proud of Shayne and Courtney. He isn’t jealous at all.
Not at all.
***
Ian almost told Anthony about Dave after the Defy collapse.
Ian had given himself three days to wallow and feel bad about himself. At the end of three days, he’d decided he would make a decision about Smosh and start planning what to do from there.
It was day two of three when Anthony texted.
Hey, the text read. Heard about the Defy collapse. Hope you’re doing okay.
Then, after a minute: I was thinking about making a video about it. Wanted to see if you’d be okay with that
Ian stared at his phone for a while. He couldn’t make himself blink or even type anything. There was a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest. It felt like when he’d bit his tongue too hard and had to spit out blood afterward. He stood up and spat into a napkin. He was fine, he hadn’t bit anything and made himself bleed, but he still felt like he was bleeding somehow.
Then, his fingers were flying over the text keyboard.
Fuck you, the text read. It really sucks that you left, and it sucks that you’re angry at me like it’s my fault you left, and it sucks that all I ever did was try to do the right thing and I’m still here. I think about jumping off the highway overpass near our old high school sometimes. I don’t like the idea but I keep thinking about it. And everyone at Smosh is looking at me like I have the answer and I don’t, and I haven’t felt that much in years but I know I’m angry, and I know that if I let myself feel it for just even a second, it would fucking hurt and I’d probably die from it. Dave fucked me for years, you know that? And it sucks that you never noticed because I just went with it so he wouldn’t hurt anyone at Smosh. I hate Smosh. I want it to die, and I want to die sometimes too
He stared at his phone, surprised by his own message draft. He read over it once, then twice. Then he highlighted the entire text and deleted it, shuddering. Instead, he sent: Yeah, that’s fine, thanks for checking
Anthony read his text right away. He must have seen how long Ian had been typing, just to end up with such a short message.
But Anthony didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just wrote back, saying Cool, thank you
Ian figured that was that. But a few days later, a bouquet of yellow and blue roses was delivered to his front door.
He knew they were from Anthony, even if Anthony hadn’t sent along a card. Anthony was the only person who knew Ian had a favorite flower, and that his favorite flower was a rose. When they were together, there was more than one time that Anthony had come home with a grocery store bouquet of roses. It was a better time.
Ian felt something drip down his face, and he wiped away the tears, unsure exactly why he was crying at all. He cut the stems and arranged them in a vase his mother had given him, setting it on his kitchen table. He didn’t throw the flowers away until the last rose head was thoroughly rotted off its browned stem.
***
Ian isn’t really sure how he finds himself sitting at brunch on Sunday, and he isn’t sure he likes it.
He blames Carol. He’d known she’d befriended Mykie for a few months now, and Ian also tangentially knew that Mykie and Anthony were together. He just hadn’t anticipated that that knowledge would ever be particularly relevant.
Except of course it was, as was proven last Wednesday by Carol stopping by his house, ostensibly to pick up a few paint rollers from Ian’s garage, only to drop the bomb that she thought that Mykie, Anthony, Ian and herself should all go to brunch that weekend.
Ian had stared at Carol, and then said, “I don’t… see what this has to do with home renovation,” which he felt was a very appropriate response at the time.
Carol had rolled her eyes, and said, “Look. Mykie was talking to me just the other week about how she thought Anthony was lonelier than he let on. And I know you have this whole… emotional repression thing going,” she said, gesturing up and down Ian’s body, “but I know you probably are, too.”
“I have friends,” Ian said, crossing his arms. “I have you, clearly. Even though you’re betraying me while holding my paint rollers. ”
“I’m not betraying you, don’t be so dramatic,” she said. “I just think it’s sad that you guys aren’t friends anymore. I think it’s not a bad idea to meet up with him again. At the very least, it’ll prove whether or not your breakup was about incompatibility, or just your situation at the time.”
Ian leveled her with a look. “Friendship breakup.”
Carol just rolled her eyes again. “So are you coming to brunch? I already told Anthony you agreed, and so he said he’d be there so he wouldn’t be one-upped.”
So that’s how Ian found himself in his current situation.
Anthony and Mykie had arrived first, because of course, they had. As Ian walks in with Carol, he can feel Anthony’s eyes on him. He bites his lip and tries not to look like he’s avoiding eye contact until he slides into the booth, taking Carol’s jacket and tucking it on his side of the booth. When he looks up, Anthony is smiling at him weakly.
“Hi,” Ian says, for lack of anything better to say.
“Hi,” says Anthony. Mykie squeezes his forearm.
Carol picks up the conversation from there, asking Mykie about her channel, complimenting her latest costume makeup tutorial she’d posted. Mykie smiles genially and asks Carol about her job, then turns to Ian and asks, as if it’s nothing, “How’s Smosh?”
Ian can’t help but look to Anthony, who keeps his eyes on Ian, but he watches as his eyes crinkle. And isn’t that an insane thing—it’s been so many years that he has the beginnings of lines etched around his eyes, and Ian does, too.
“It’s good,” Ian says after a beat. “We, um. It’s been hard with the main channel, but I recently pitched a show that’s been getting some pretty good views recently. It’s leaning more toward improv, which is a challenge for me personally, but. Our cast is crazy good.”
“I saw that Courtney and Shayne are still with it,” Anthony says quickly. As if he’s afraid of being interrupted.
Ian smiles without meaning to. “Yeah, they’ve been—they’ve been troopers. Damien, too—he, ah, he came on after you left. And Olivia, Keith, and Noah are still with the channel too, they just freelance more so they can accept other work. Everyone’s been wonderful. And our new cast, too—I mean, I don’t know how we got them, they’re so fucking funny.”
“That’s great,” says Mykie, drawing Ian’s attention back to her. Right. She was the one who asked in the first place. “I’m really happy to hear it’s going so well. We were all so nervous for you after Defy, but it’s so good to know that Smosh has landed on its feet.”
Ian can’t help but smile at her. She’s nice, Ian thinks. Really and truly nice. She must be good for Anthony.
Anthony clears his throat and says, “Yeah, exactly—exactly what Mykie said.”
Ian chews on his cheek, but smiles at Anthony, too.
Their server comes by and takes their orders. Ian doesn’t think he can stomach much more than a black coffee, but after Carol kicks him in the back of the leg, he orders gluten-free toast and eggs, too. As the server gathers up their menus, Ian can feel Anthony looking at him again.
“You’re gluten-free now?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Ian says. “Found out I had an allergy, like, two years ago. Court says I look like I actually take care of my skin now, but it’s literally just being gluten-free.”
Ian watches Anthony’s forehead wrinkle and then smooth out. From beside him, Carol shifts in the booth. “I think I’m going to run to the bathroom,” she says.
Mykie stands up when Carol does. “I’ll come with you,” she says easily, as if this isn’t a coordinated effort to get Ian and Anthony alone.
Ian watches them walk away, then hang a left to exit the restaurant entirely. He can’t help the little snort he lets out. They could at least be subtle about it.
“Well, they could’ve been subtler,” says Anthony, as if he’s reading Ian’s mind. Ian is drawn back to him once again. His heart feels strange when he looks at him. He’s wearing an expensive sweater, and he has all these tattoos now that spiderweb along his neck, down his arms to his fingers. He looks good. He really does.
Ian opens his mouth to tell him just that, but Anthony beats him, saying, “You and Carol seem really good together.”
Ian blinks. “Oh, Carol and I aren’t together.” They’d met at a random bar trivia night, and hit it off because Carol had the same opinions about Love Is Blind as Ian did. Ian really liked Carol. He also really liked Carol’s long-term boyfriend, Henry.
“Oh,” says Anthony. “Wait, so does this mean you and Courtney—?”
“Anthony,” says Ian. “I’m going to say this really nicely, because if I don’t, Carol will kill me. But I can have friends who present as feminine, and not be dating them.”
Anthony blushes. Ian tries not to stare. He’s not seen him do something like that in—well, in forever.
“I know that,” says Anthony, reaching up to tuck some hair behind his ear. “It’s just—you called her ‘Court,’ and. Well, I guess I just—I haven’t heard a lot from you these past few years, so I guess I was just trying to, um. Get more information. I’m sorry if it came across as rude to you, that wasn’t what I meant.”
Ian tries not to let the surprise he feels show in his body, but he can feel it pushing back his shoulders. The server stops by with their coffee, and Ian takes a sip, trying to stall. The coffee is too hot and burns his tongue, but he doesn’t really care too much about that.
Anthony had never been so forthcoming with Ian. They weren’t like that. They didn’t apologize to one another. They just laughed misunderstandings off or ignored them until they went away.
Ian can suddenly feel the press of years on the both of them. Well, Ian isn’t going to let Anthony sit there, stewing. He can do that much, at least.
“It’s okay,” he says. Anthony wraps his hands around his own coffee cup and his rings clink against the mug. “Courtney and I are good friends, that’s all. The Smosh cast has gotten a lot closer since coming to Mythical. And anyway, I’m not seeing anyone currently.”
“Gotcha,” says Anthony. He’s still blushing a little bit. He takes a sip of his own coffee.
“I really like Mykie,” Ian adds. “She seems good for you.”
Anthony smiles, and it’s the same smile from when they were kids. From before everything went sour. From when they were together, even. It pulls at Ian’s heart. He grabs the sugar canister and mixes some into his coffee with his spoon, even though he doesn’t really want it.
“She’s wonderful,” says Anthony. “She’s—she knows everything, you know. About Smosh, and Pressalike. And she, um. She knows about you and I, you know. She wasn’t even jealous, she was just sad that we weren’t talking anymore.”
Ian once again feels surprised, and leans back, his shoulder blades touching the vinyl backing of the booth. “Everything, huh?”
“Yeah,” says Anthony. He fiddles with one of the rings on his pinky. “I didn’t tell anyone until her, you know.”
Ian thinks about it for a moment, and then says, “I told Shayne, believe it or not.”
“I don’t ,” Anthony says immediately, and Ian can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest.
“No, seriously. He and Court were having a fight, so I told him about us and it basically saved their relationship,” Ian says. “I was so emotionally mature, you’d never believe it.”
Anthony blinks, then sits forward. “You’re telling me they finally got together? And I wasn’t there to see it?!”
“Oh, dude, you missed out, it was so funny the day they told everyone for real,” says Ian, and begins describing the day, how Tommy had basically screeched his head off and how Jackie had thrown her hands up and started quoting Charlotte’s speech from Pride and Prejudice to make Courtney laugh.
Anthony tilts his head. “I don’t think I know Jackie,” he admits.
“Oh, you’re missing out,” says Ian, and, trying hard not to think too much about it, he pulls out his phone and shows him one of her Try Not to Laugh bits where she just rants at Shayne for a while. Anthony cackles. It’s been so long since Ian’s heard him laugh like that.
Mykie and Carol slide into the booth just before their food comes. They’d been gone for over twenty minutes. Ian had hardly noticed. Carol smiles at him and knocks his knee with her own underneath the table. Ian rolls his eyes at her, but then Anthony’s telling a story about one of his guests on I Spent a Day With, and his full attention is back to him again.
***
Ian still doesn’t sleep well after Defy.
The dreams he has—he wouldn’t say they’re nightmares, really. It’s never really about Dave, or what happened in his office.
It’s more that there are shadowy figures, and doors that Ian doesn’t want to open, and something cold gripping Ian’s hands, his throat. He’ll wake up and be afraid of the dark, then. Feeling like a child, he orders a nightlight. It helps a little bit, but when he goes back to sleep, the silhouettes are still there sometimes.
He learns to love coffee and energy drinks. For some reason, Spencer gets a lot of shit for drinking Mountain Dew Kickstart, but Ian walking around with Red Bulls is put down to the fact that he’s the president of Smosh and he has a lot to do. Every third night or so, Ian will get so worn out that he sleeps like the dead. He wakes up and it feels like there’s a stone lodged between his temples.
It works. It has to work, he thinks.
***
Jackie accuses Ian of having a secret girlfriend three months after he and Anthony reconnect.
She sits down with him at lunch with a knowing expression on her face. The kind that causes mischief. It’s like everyone knows she’s about to say something saucy, and suddenly Ian’s table is full where it had been empty before.
She pays them no mind. Instead, Jackie beckons with her hand, like she’s trying to get Ian to give something over. “So who is she?” she says.
Ian suddenly wants to turn his phone, which was sitting face-up on the table, over. Just in case Anthony texts him.
“Who is who?” Ian asks her.
Jackie points a finger at him. “Whoever’s got you acting like a real person instead of a robot boss! Come on, we all see the change. You laugh for real. You finally asked about my weekend yesterday. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask? I do cool shit on the weekends!”
“You told me you watched a Tia and Tamera marathon this weekend in your pajamas.”
“That’s beside the point, ” Jackie insists.
“She’s kinda right,” Angela pipes up. Ian turns to glare at her. She holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! Before you were like, I dunno. A droopy-eyed old dog at the shelter. But now you’re like an old dog who just got adopted and realized what love is.”
“That’s a pretty far-out comparison, Angela,” Chanse mutters from beside her, and she elbows him.
“I wasn’t that sad-looking, was I?” Ian asks tentatively.
“You were,” Amanda says sagely. This time, it’s Shayne who’s elbowing her as Angela snorts.
“So you admit there’s been a change!” Jackie says triumphantly. “You even take care of your beard now, I can tell! ”
Ian blushes. So what if he’s been using the beard oil Anthony recommended? It’s been working. It’s a good product, that’s all.
“You all are crazy,” says Ian, and gets up to throw the rest of his lunch in the trash.
Shayne follows him, seemingly to throw away his La Croix can. As they walk back to the table, Shayne says under his breath, “It has been good to see you happier. We’re all glad about it. That’s all Jackie means.”
Ian shuts his eyes, and stops walking. Shayne also stops.
He knows that everyone is watching him now, so Ian keeps it short. He looks Shayne dead in the eyes, and says, “Whatever you think you know about what happened to me at Defy—you don’t. Do you understand me? It stays out of the workplace. That’s what I want. It has no place here, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Shayne’s eyes widen, probably because it’s the closest Ian’s ever gotten to talking about that one awful shoot day. But he’s too good of an actor to betray what they’re talking about to everyone else. He keeps his body relaxed, even as he nods gravely to Ian.
“Ian,” he says, “have you talked about it with anyone? That’s what I’m worried about. It’s—I know I have no details, but just from what I’ve seen. I guess I’m worried that you may be dealing with some post-traumatic stress.”
“Please, Shayne,” Ian says. He doesn’t sound as firm anymore. That won’t do.
He walks the rest of the way to the table, Shayne beside him, silent. Ian picks up his phone, then waves to everyone, saying he has a meeting with Mythical Chef Josh when it wasn’t for forty minutes.
As he walks away, he hears Angela say to Shayne, “What’d you talk about? Ian seemed pretty serious there for a second. Did you get a scoop?”
“It was nothing,” Ian hears Shayne answer.
As Ian walks back to his office, he gets another text from Anthony—a link to a recent TikTok that Tommy had posted on the Smosh account, with several laughing emojis underneath it. Normally, Ian would be happy to see that text.
Instead, he clicks his phone off and Googles post-traumatic stress disorder.
Sure, he might have some of the symptoms, but doesn’t everyone? Shayne’s just being paranoid. That’s all it is.
And anyway, his phone is lighting up with another text from Anthony, this time asking, How’s it going over there?
Swimming along as always, Ian types back, and closes the tab to the Mayo Clinic altogether.
***
After Ian and Pam broke up, Shayne offered to take him out for drinks.
It was awkward because it was one of the few times they’ve hung out since Shayne’s been hired. But Shayne seemed genuine, seemed to want to connect with Ian, and it wasn’t as if Anthony offered anything, so Ian took him up on it.
“It’s good that it was amicable,” said Shayne, after Ian told him about what had happened. “Do you think you’ll stay friends?”
Ian played with the peeling label on his beer bottle. “That seems to be the way I do it,” he said. After all, Melanie still texted him from time to time, letting him know about art shows she was doing, or just checking up on Smosh. And then there was the whole Anthony mess, too.
Ian wondered if that just meant he had bad boundaries, then dismissed the thought because he really did like Pam, still felt good things about her even after things had fizzled out.
Shayne nodded. He knew that Shayne was dealing with his own relationship problems, so he asked about that. It seemed that Shayne was worried his girlfriend wasn’t into him anymore, so Ian ordered another round of drinks, then one more, as Shayne explained what was going on.
By the time Shayne was finished venting, Ian was feeling tipsy and warm all over. Shayne said, “Why does love have to be so complicated?”
“I dunno,” said Ian. “Sometimes I think you just fall in love and that’s it. It follows you through the rest of your life.”
Or maybe that was just Anthony.
Shayne tilted his head at Ian. He seemed to be calculating something.
“Melanie?” he said after a moment.
Ian snorted. “Honestly, I wish. No, it was, um—it was this. Well, it was this guy.”
Then, abruptly, he felt like he’d said too much.
But Shayne didn’t say anything in response to that, except, “Sometimes it’s like that, I guess.” He tipped his beer bottle to clink the neck against Ian’s.
That was the night that Ian decided that maybe having the new Smosh cast wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
***
The day that Mykie and Anthony break up, Ian buys a handle of tequila and heads over to Anthony’s place.
Over the phone, Anthony had sounded okay. But Ian knew from extensive experience that that wasn’t a great indication of how a person was doing, really.
Ian’s greeted by the spicy scent of takeout curry when he opens the door.
“Hey,” says Anthony, smiling. “Since you told me you were coming over, I thought it’d be nice to get some food for us.”
Ian holds out the handle, wrapped in a brown paper bag, to Anthony. “I had a worse idea,” he says.
Anthony laughs and takes the bottle to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he comes back out with two tequila sunrises, setting one down in front of Ian as he dishes curry into two bowls for them.
“So how are you doing, really?” Ian asks after what feels like an appropriate amount of time. They’ve eaten most of their curry, and are now sitting on Anthony’s deck. Anthony’s sitting sideways in his chair because no one ever taught him to sit normally. It’s been an ongoing problem since they were kids.
“I’m…” Anthony takes a moment, really thinks about it. “I’m sad, obviously. And I know Mykie is, too. But. I think I’m in a healthier place than I was with Kalel.”
“Well, it was a healthier relationship,” Ian mutters.
Anthony side-eyes him but doesn’t disagree. “I think we both realized we just want different things right now. I think I’m… in a place to be really settled, and she isn’t, and neither of us wanted the other feeling resentful because of that difference. It sucks. My therapist also said it is what it is.”
Ian raises his eyebrows. “You called your therapist today?”
“Nah, we’ve been talking about it for a while,” Anthony admits. “I think Mykie and I both knew we were about to run the course, ya know?”
Ian nods. “Sounds like me and Pam. And I still love her, you know? It’s just—in a much friendlier way, this time around.”
Anthony’s tongue swipes across his upper lip. He says, “I’m, um. I’m really sorry, by the way. That I wasn’t there for you when you and Pam broke up. That was shitty of me.”
Ian feels something squeeze, and then unravel, in his chest. He takes a big gulp of his drink to ignore it, and the tequila burns his throat. Anthony made it pretty strong. “It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t,” Anthony says firmly. “Our friendship was all kinds of messed up, back then. And I used to blame you for it, but it wasn’t just you. It was me, too. I was insecure and I was pulling away before you could pull away from me.”
“Yeah, well,” Ian says. He cuts his eyes to the horizon. The sun is going down slowly tonight, and it looks like an open gash, bleeding red across the mountains. “Jackie told me I was acting like a ‘robot boss’ until very recently, so I’ve been made aware that I’m a bit emotionally unavailable. I’m sorry if it ever—seemed that way, to you, too. If it added to the whole mess.”
“A bit,” Anthony says simply. “It was also…”
As he trails off, Ian looks back to Anthony. He’s fiddling with his rings now.
“I felt like you were hiding something from me,” Anthony finally says. “The last two years I was at Defy. I couldn’t tell if it was Smosh-related or not at the time. I had no reason to expect you to open up to me at the time, because it wasn’t like I was a good friend at that point. But it still hurt me that you wouldn’t talk about it.”
Ian feels the moment drop like a heavy weight between them.
Anthony had known something was up. Anthony could tell. It hadn’t been—he just hadn’t asked about it, but he’d still known. He’d still known.
Ian forces himself to breathe.
Anthony shifts in his deck chair. He places his feet on the ground in front of him. “Ian?” he asks gently.
“I—there was something,” Ian says eventually, trying not to gasp out the words. He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. “Not really—not really Smosh-related. I didn’t tell you, I didn’t really talk to anyone about it. I still don’t really want to talk about it, but it’s not like—like, if I ever did talk about it, it would probably be to you, you know?”
Something seems to pass over Anthony’s face, but it may just be the changing of the light as the sun sets. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
Then, after a moment: “Have you ever tried therapy?”
Ian snorts. His heart starts calming in his chest. “I’d terrorize any therapist in the greater Los Angeles area, and you know it.”
“Sure,” says Anthony, “but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be helpful.”
“You should really start hanging out with Shayne,” Ian says.
They settle back down. Take a few more sips of their drinks. Anthony says, “I kinda miss them, sometimes. The way you talk about Smosh? It makes me feel like I didn’t give the cast a fair shake, the first time around.”
“It was pretty shitty how they were hired,” Ian admits. “I mean, we were lucky that Joe Bereta was the only one on the hiring team who could actually recognize talent, so we got some pretty good people out of the deal. But we should have been more involved in the process. Everyone agrees, you know? Even Olivia said something like that to me, and she’s pretty committed to never talking about serious things at work.”
Anthony smiles. “It sounds like the current iteration of Smosh is a good environment.”
“It really is,” Ian says. “I look forward to coming into work now, you know? That never happened during the Defy era.”
Anthony nods. “And that’s what it should be! It was always something that I just loved making with you. Sometimes I still miss being silly with you on camera, you know?”
Ian catches the look in his eyes as the sun finally sets and the automatic porch lights click on. Anthony looks—almost wistful.
Ian’s mouth moves without his permission, voicing something that had been on his mind for a few weeks now. He’d been waiting to really think it through, to present Anthony with the pros and cons—he didn’t want to walk into it hastily.
But Anthony just looks so—so beautiful, in this moment, and Ian can’t help it.
“What if…well, what if we bought Smosh?”
Anthony turns to him, his face so bright, Ian wonders if the sun has risen again just to spotlight him.
“Dude, I’ve been thinking about this! Okay, so here’s what I think we should pitch to Rhett and Link…”
***
When they first hooked up after their seven-month stint, Ian wasn’t sure what Anthony had really wanted.
It was after he broke up with his girlfriend, a few months before he met Kalel. Ian had asked what Anthony wanted to do, and Anthony said he’d like to try smoking a cigarette. “I’ve never tried one before, but this seems like the thing you’d pick up after a breakup,” said Anthony.
Ian, who still liked to run in the mornings, privately thought it was a stupid idea. But he also wasn’t going to say no to Anthony, what with his puppy-dog eyes and everything. So they piled into Ian’s car and drove to the nearest Seven-Eleven. Ian bought a pack of Camels and a Bic lighter, then handed both to Anthony, who was sipping on an Icee he’d made in the interim.
They sat on the hood of Ian’s car as Anthony tried to light up. It wasn’t working very well.
“I think you need to cup your hand over the flame,” Ian said. “Like this,” and he moved to cover the cigarette for Anthony.
He looked up quickly at Ian, and then flicked the gear of the lighter again. This time, the cigarette lit up cherry-red, and then Anthony was coughing, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth as he hacked into the sleeve of his shirt.
Ian couldn’t help but laugh, and once Anthony had recovered enough, tears in his eyes, he said, “It’s harder than you’d expect, asshole!”
“Hey, I’m sure it is,” Ian said, but there must be something in his tone, because Anthony thrust the filter end to Ian.
“You try!” he insisted.
Ian shrugged and stuck the end in his mouth. He sucked in and immediately felt the smoke itch the back of his throat, but he was still determined to do better than Anthony. He held it in his mouth for a moment, then pinched the cigarette in his fingers as he breathed out slowly, only coughing right at the very end of the drag.
“Fuck you,” Anthony said without any heat as he took the cigarette back. He did a bit better on his second drag, and smiled at Ian as he coughed a little bit more.
He offered the cigarette back to Ian, and Ian shook his head.
“You sure?” Anthony asked.
“Yeah,” Ian said. “Swapping spit? I mean, that’s pretty gay.”
Anthony eyed him. He let the cigarette drop from his fingers, sparks splaying across the parking lot.
“Gayer than this?” Anthony asked, and reached out to cup Ian’s cheek, drawing him into a kiss.
It was like Ian’s blood awoke with it. He leaned into the kiss, lips pushing and pulling against Anthony’s like a tide. He moved closer, cupping Anthony’s elbows, his wrists, then up to his shoulders, the wings of his shoulder blades. He didn’t know how long they kissed, but by the time Anthony finally broke it off, Ian was half-hard in his jeans, lips swollen and tired.
“We should probably—” said Anthony, and Ian agreed.
“My place or yours?” Ian asked, and Anthony buried his head into Ian’s neck, kissing a patch of skin there.
“Mine,” Anthony whispered to Ian, as if he hadn’t just taken a bite out of Ian’s heart with that. He nodded, and drove them back, the car feeling wild underneath the wheel, Anthony’s hand on Ian’s leg. The tension was a tightrope that Ian would fall off of. It was everything.
The next morning, Ian woke up first. He usually did. That’s when he would run, in the mornings before work.
For a moment, he watched Anthony breathe in his bed, arms loose, eyelashes gentle on his cheek. Ian swallowed hard.
The thing was that this was a casual hookup for Anthony. Something to take the edge off as he recovered from his breakup. The other thing was that Ian was in love with Anthony, and probably always would be.
So it would be better if he left first, before Anthony woke up.
Ian gathered his clothes. He couldn’t find his left sock, so he just left without it, toes rubbing up against the tip of his sneaker as he got into his car. He found his phone and texted Anthony, saying went home for a run. C u at the next shoot, and he figured that that was that.
***
“The eagle has landed in the nest,” Ian says, pretending to put a hand up to his ear. In reality, his phone is calling Anthony in his back pocket, and Anthony’s listening in on the other end.
Anthony, knowing it’s his cue, emerges from around the corner of the hallway and pushes open the conference door. He looks nervous, fingers dancing on his thighs. He’s looking at Ian and cutting glances away every so often to the room. But he’s mostly looking at Ian.
The room is silent for a single moment, and then it bursts into cheers. Ian can hear Courtney saying, “Oh, my god, what, ” over and over again, and Angela and Chanse, who clearly aren’t even fully sure this is Anthony, gasp and say, “Is that—are we—? Oh, this is so big!”
Anthony stands up with Ian. He’s grinning a little bashfully. Just last night, he’d told Ian that he’d been worried everyone wouldn’t want him back, or that they would resent him still for leaving. Ian had known it wouldn’t be the case, and he ribs Anthony a little bit. Anthony laughs and pokes him back.
After the cheers die down a bit, Ian holds up his hand. The crowd falls quiet. “Yes, Anthony’s back,” Ian says, prompting another round of whoops and cheers. “And, uh…”
He looks over at Anthony, who nods. They’ve rehearsed this.
In unison, they say, “We bought Smosh!”
And the room erupts this time, even louder and wilder. Even Erin Dougal of all people looks excited. Ian watches them and can’t help the spark of light bubbling up in his chest. He smiles, and laughs, and Anthony wraps an arm around Ian and Ian leans in on instinct, hand resting on Anthony’s hip.
Jackie catches them, raises her eyebrows. She mouths ‘secret girlfriend’ to Ian, but it just makes Ian laugh even more, and Anthony says, “Well. That went well, right?”
“We didn’t even need to pull out the champagne to get them excited,” Ian agrees, and Anthony giggles, and for the first time since 2016—
Well, Ian feels like things are good.
Really, actually good.