Regret (Ianthony)

Three Weeks Prior

"Babe, I'm home!" Anthony shout into the open air, shouldering about five grocery bags in one hand and opening the door with the other. He shut it somewhere between softly and slamming and towed the groceries into the kitchen, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

Since there was no response to his greeting, Anthony began sorting through the food he had just purchased and putting it away in either the freezer, the refrigerator, or the pantry. He wasn't actually that worried about Ian's lack of reply; he figured he was still probably editing their latest Smosh video or on the phone with his parents. His mom had been calling him a lot lately, asking if he and Anthony would come over for dinner again, which they did on some week nights. It was nice to not really have to worry about the initial impression anymore; actually, Anthony had become quite fond of Ian's father. Not that he didn't like him before, but without the pressure to do everything right, he was able to enjoy his presence in a way that wasn't as forced.

Everything seemed to be coming together.

Pawing through the second-to-last bag of groceries, Anthony snatched the two jars of peanut butter (one of which was smooth, the other crunchy) and began making his way over to the pantry to place them on the middle shelf when he suddenly heard a low sob.

Freezing with the two jars in his hands, Anthony slowly turned around. No one was there, of course, but it didn't help his anxiety. His stomach lurched with horror as the noise repeated, this time with an additional sniffle. He figured it was coming from the hall, since he had heard the noise like it was coming from behind him.

Anthony frowned and slowly sat the variety of peanut butter down on the counter softly before quietly tip-toeing his way down the hall, towards the noise. Another agonized cry rang through the corridor, a little louder than before, before silence reigned with an iron fist. The quiet was much more nerve-inducing than the racket from before; Anthony made sure to take extra care to walk closely to the walls to eliminate creaks and squeaks from the carpeted floor.

Again, he heard a soft sob. He determined that it was coming from Ian's room.

Dropping his ninja-like stealth, Anthony took in a deep breath and opened his boyfriend's door to see Ian curled up on his bed, slow tears crawling down his cheeks from bloodshot eyes. Ian sniffled and looked up at Anthony, quickly wiping away some of his sadness with his arm and straightening his posture until he was sitting up.

"Ian!" Anthony yelled with surprise, racing to his side and sitting on the bare patch of bed beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked, taking Ian's face in his hands and looking him directly in his icy blue eyes. "What's wrong?" he questioned again, coming closer to him.

Only shaking his head, Ian pulled away and wiped his face again. He looked at Anthony's eyes, widened with concern, and gave Anthony a sick smile. "I'm fine," he stated weakly, looking as though he was about to let the waterworks flow again at any second.

"No, tell me what's wrong," Anthony demanded sternly, concern heavily lining his features. He was used to Ian's denial and always had thought of it as a hard pill to swallow, but now wasn't the time for Ian to act like the tough guy.

"I'm fine," Ian repeated, looking too old to be under thirty. Anthony was horrified to see Ian smile again, this one coming off as forced and tired.

Still not buying it, Anthony suspiciously asked, "You're sure?"

"Yeah." Ian remained stoic, not giving in to Anthony's prodding and poking. Then, he clarified, "Look, I just need a couple of minutes to think. Alright?"

Anthony nodded slowly and hesitantly began backing out of Ian's room. He didn't know what to make of the situation, and, with his clouded mind, there was no way he would notice the crumpled bit of fan mail in Ian's trash can that read, "Did Anthony propose yet?" and had an illustration of Anthony down on one knee, ring in hand.

It was also in an Italian restaurant.