Hold On (Ianthony)

Part 1

Pre-Note: Wow I've been uploading a lot lately! :D The truth is, I start driver's training next week, and there is a LOT of homework for that on top of all my school homework, so I'll probably be basically gone for a few weeks :(

But anyways, new chapter fic! Yay!! :D I'm like really excited for this one man it's about to be hella intense oooo

So yeah! Hope y'all like this! <3

One phone call.

It starts off as the same annoying chorus of marimbas ringing in your ears, or a vibrating in your pocket. You take your phone out, look down at the screen casually, then get a little more intrigued when you find a number you don't recognize, not the routine of your best friend or girlfriend. You answer, a twinge of nervousy forming in the pit of your stomach, and say "hello?" with a moderately casual tone, expecting it to be a business-related call. But you're stunned when an unfamiliar voice speaks on the other end, which just expands your fear and curiousity. And the unfamiliar female voice says she is a secretary at the Sacramento Community Hospital, and you find your heart speeding up a little, because the seceratary at the hospital doesn't call for business reasons. And the voice asks you if your name is Anthony Padilla, and you reply yes, that's you, and then the voice tells you something that completely flips your world upisde-down. Something that makes your lungs feel weak and your knees lock. 

And you drop everything and sprint out the front door, not even bothering to hang up the phone. You just run.

///

I ran into the lobby of the emergency room, not really comprehending what was happening. If I knew, I think I would be crying. But I couldn't cry. I was so scared, I could do nothing but worry. My heart beat way faster than it should and my fingernails dug into the palm of my hand; I was clenching them so hard to try to stop the trembling.

"Anthony Padilla," I told the secretary, and when she spoke back, I knew for sure it was the same woman I had just talked to minutes ago on the phone. The messanger of the worst news I had ever recieved.

Just as she was beginning to dial a few buttons on her phone, probably calling down the doctor, the doors leading down the long hallway of sick people flung open, and a pair of crying people walked out, an older couple, and as I looked at them, and they looked at me, I realized I knew them.

Melanie's, Ian's girlfriend's, parents.

We just looked at each other for a few moments, the familiarity sinking in, and then her mom slowly approached me, whispering, "Anthony."

Some part of me was jealous of them, because they beat me here. They got to see them first. They got to know what was happening before me.

I just covered my mouth with my hand, the situation finally sinking in, the tears flooding into my eyes. Her husband stood next to her, and they both sobbed simulatenously, her husband obviously trying to be strong, and failing. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse and shaky.

"Ian's okay," he said, trying to smile, but, once again, failing. "Alive."

I nodded slowly, and for the first time in about ten minutes, I could breathe. Not very well, but I breathed.

"Mel?" I asked, and her mom sobbed and I knew the answer.

Her husband put an arm around her and held her close, squeezing his eyes shut. He breathed in deep and looked at me, shaking his head.

And that was when I really started crying. Melanie was gone. Dead. And even though Ian was alive, which I coudn't thank God enough for, he wouldn't really be. Not now. Now that his one true love was gone. 

And the worst part? For a second, a mere milisecond, I was happy. Because now I had a chance with him, my one true love. And I absolutely hated myself for it, because Melanie was my friend. And Ian's girlfriend. And for a moment, I was almost happy she was dead. Out of narcissism.

I would never be able to forgive myself for that.

///

Three hours later, I was still in the hospital. 

For three hours, I had been sitting in the little plastic chair against the wall, next to the window. Staring at the nearly-lifeless body of my best friend in front of me. There were so many machines attached to him, so many IVs, it made my head spin. He was covered in bandages and had a cast on his right arm, and he looked... okay. Until he woke up, of course, which the doctor told me should be soon.

For three hours, I had been trying to picture the whole scene: Ian and Melanie casually driving to get dinner or coffee or to the store, probably holding hands, laughing and talking about little things couples talked about. And then, bam, out of nowhere, some idiot on a cell phone smashes into the right side of the car, Melanie's side. And she probably had her feet up on the dashboard, and maybe her seatbelt was off, because that was the kind of person she was. The kind that firted with danger as often as possible.

I sighed and put my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. Kalel had called me three times, because every time I spent a few days in Sacramento, I called her on the second night at eight o'clock. It was the second night, and it was nearly ten.

But I couldn't talk to her. Not now.

I sat back up, and another hour went by. It had probably only been a few more minutes, actually, but it felt like at least an hour. Every moment he spent unconcious on that bed felt like an eternity.

But, after those few hours or minutes or whatever the hell it was went by, something good happened. Finally, something good.

Ian's eyelids slowly lifted, revealing the eyes I worried I would never see again.

I shot up and threw my arms around his neck, feeling myself crying again. But this time, they were happy tears, because he was awake and alive. And sort of happy for what would probably be the last time for a while.

He stayed stiff under me as I sobbed and hugged him awkwardly against the bed, and after a moment, I realized I might have been hurting him.

I gently pulled back and sat on the egde of his bed. 

"Jesus, Ian," I said, sort of smiling down at him. "I thought you were dead."

He didn't respond. He just looked from me, to the bed, to the machine beeping with every beat of his heart, to the window, back to me. Even though it was Ian, it wasn't really Ian. I couldn't explain why, it was just like, he wasn't.... there.

And a moment later, I understood why.

Because he just looked at me and said,

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

A/N: OH SHIT MAN but yeah I told you this was about to be hella intense. But this was really hard to write because I love Melanie omg but yeah I promise every chapter won't be this sad it's gonna be a really funny fic actually so yeah don't give up on this yet but gimme feedback ok thanks bye ily