Regret (Ianthony)

Five Months, Three Weeks Prior

Smoothing out his Ralph Lauren striped polo shirt, Anthony looked at himself once more in the mirror. He looked like the kind of kid that old people would refer to as "dashing", and he absolutely hated it. His hair was combed and therefore completely neat, he was wearing fucking khakis of all shorts, and he had his shirt tucked in.

Even if the date was a success, he would probably die from his dressing choices before he got to enjoy Ian. Just the thought gave him shivers...

He inhaled. He exhaled. Then, he exited the bathroom to grab Ian and get this show on the road.

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Groaning in annoyance, Anthony signed the check irritably and tossed two dollars down as tip. Then, he grabbed Ian's hand and made his way out of the expensive Italian restaurant.

It had been a complete disaster. Mishap after mishap, mistake after mistake. First off, Anthony had his shirt tail hanging out the whole time and had been completely oblivious until Ian pointed at it and snickered. That didn't make him feel so hot, especially since he had taken the time to make himself look perfectly presentable. Second, the waitress had immediately pointed out that they were two guys, alone together in a romantic setting. No shit, lady. Third, as soon as she managed to fix them some beverages (nothing alcoholic; it was supposed to be just a date), she immediately spilled Anthony's Coke all over Ian. Anthony looked over to Ian automatically to observe the large dark spot on his shirt.

"I'm so sorry about this..." Anthony apologized for the umpteenth time as he braked for a red light. He was trying to leave the catastrophe behind them, and was doing his best to make Ian forget too.

"Dude, that's like the seventh time you've said that. It's fine, really," Ian responded. His blue eyes sparked with contentment, like he honestly didn't give a fuck that he was wearing a soaked shirt and had just escaped Anthony's equivalent of hell.

"Anyways," Ian ranted on, "it was really sweet of you to pay the bill. Thanks." Ian really did seem sincere.

"Uh... You're welcome..?" Anthony half-questioned. Why was Ian putting up with his bullshit? This whole ordeal was his fault, and Ian should be scolding him for being a horrible... Well, he didn't really know what. They hadn't taken the time to establish whether they were official boyfriends or not, and for some reason it was really starting to bug Anthony.

"Still, I'm sorry. Even though the date was shit..." Anthony rambled, trying to get the question out as soon as possible, "...will you be my boyfriend?"

Ian threw his head back in laughter. "Yes, dip shit, of course. Were we not before?"

Anthony didn't answer. He was far too relieved that Ian was so calm about this whole relationship thing that they were in, because it honestly scared him to death. He just didn't want to mess it all up.

"Take me to a bar so we can get drunk," Ian said spontaneously as Anthony drove silently.

"I would, but then we wouldn't have a designated driver," Anthony retorted. It was true; he wasn't going to put both of their lives in jeopardy just to have a good time, because that was just the type of person he was.

Frowning, Ian admitted, "True... But we could run to a Red Dot and grab some liquor and beer. I just really wanna get wasted."

Eyeing him with curiosity, Anthony asked, "Really? Uh... Any particular reason?"

"I wanna feel like we felt in high school." Anthony could feel the weight of his words press against him.

"Alright, I'm in." Anthony switched lanes and drove to the nearest Red Dot.

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Noon sunlight streaming in his room through his blinds, Anthony blinked into consciousness. He could feel the pounding in his head. His body rocked according to his nausea. He felt like complete shit.

Anthony smiled, because the night had been a complete success.