Scumbag Blues (Evan)

[Anty]

Anthony didn't need a therapist. A support group, maybe. But not a therapist. He had attempted to tell this to August; she refused to listen. She had even threatened to throw all his beer out if he didn't go. Reluctantly he had agreed, and today was the day. He had overslept.

Anthony got up from the couch, turning the television off. He walked to the kitchen to get a beer, but there was a note on the fridge:
Don't forget the appointment with Dr. Evan today. That means.. No beer! -Love, Auggiepoo.
Anthony bit his lip. He did not want to go see some pretentious douche bag. Especially while sober. And his name was Evan! He hated everyone named Evan.

Anthony tossed out the idea of eating. He stormed into the bathroom, angry at the world. He resentfully grabbed his toothbrush and started aggressively brushing his teeth, snarling at the mirror. He spat his toothpaste at the mirror, aiming for his head. He missed by a long shot and the toothpaste slid down the mirror and onto the counter. He would show this Dr. Evan character how much help he needed. But first, he needed to look insane. Taking two fingers, he dipped them into black makeup and ran them across his cheeks on either side of his face, making warpaint. Clothes, the kind that only insane people would wear..

None of his would do. They were all too big for him anyways. Anthony found a box full of August's belongings, including a pair of very small denim shorts. He pulled them on over his boxers. They came just above his boxers. And not to mention how tight they were. He stripped his shirt off, looking for something more suitable. And in August's box he found something: A bright yellow safety vest. Excited, he didn't take the time to find a shirt. But he was missing something still.. And there it was in the box. A pair of flower-shaped sunglasses. It was perfect.

Now it was time to go. He slipped on the pair of flip flops Evan had given him and marched outside. Waiting for him was a bright blue bike, most likely his neighbors, but he liked "borrowing" it when he was in a hurry.

The bike clattered to the ground as he ran back inside the apartment, forgetting to spike his hair. Five minutes later he ran back, his hair now spiked and gelled. He picked the bike back up, glad its owner hadn't claimed it while he was gone, and pedaled off.

Anthony hit something and his bike crashed against the sidewalk. He crashed also, skinning his knees. He cursed violently, throwing a fit. He stopped only when he saw the poor creature lying on the sidewalk. Curious, he crawled towards the rat. After close inspection, he found it was indeed dead. Saddened, he stood and walked around the corner of a building to find a cardboard box full of free puppies. He dumped them out on the sidewalk, seeing this as a nice home for the rat. He jogged back to the rat. He scooped it into his hands and placed it gently into the box. "You need a name... " He pondered on this, biting his lip, when an idea hit him. "I know! I'll named you Evan!"

Anthony placed the cardboard box containing Evan into the basket on the front of the bike, and headed off again.

He reached the facility, and waltzed inside, carrying Evan with him. It was big, and very fancy, but it reminded him of home. Not his, but Evan's.. He hugged the box tightly. "I'm here to see-" He started, but was interrupted by the receptionist, who must have been very pretty in her day, and was now what some considered a cougar, "Dr. Evan is waiting for you," she said sympathetically.

Anthony nodded, walking to the back of the facility until he stood before a wooden door, one with a a golden plaque with Dr. Evan written across it in fancy cursive. Anthony smiled, wondering how long it would take Pierce to read that. He held onto the box with one hand, knocking on the door with the other.

((The vest- asshaibi.com/images/Reflective_Safety_Vest.jpg ))

[Waddle]

Paper after paper lay in a pile on the desk, scattered and rumpled. Evan stared at them for several minutes, dreading what he knew he needed to do. Clean. Grimacing, he began the long process of putting the papers in order. Records and notes on his patients, few as they had been. But for some reason, he'd had to see the craziest, the oddest people, some of which he completely believed needed more help than a therapist could give them. They needed to be in a ward with a straight jacket. It took him about fifteen minutes to have six piles of papers placed neatly on his desk. He pulled out a binder filled with further papers for future and past patients and opened it, stacked the six piles into one and stuffed them into the binder, then pulled out the paper of his next patient.

He skipped the name. He didn't much care about the names; he hardly remember it anyway. Drinker, smoker with a criminal record. Those were the only things that really jumped out at him. He never paid attention to the details. Hearing it from the patient, then looking at the records was more his style. It proved to him if he could trust anything out of the person's mouth, which, normally, he couldn't.

A knock came on his door. Quickly, he shoved the paper into the binder, put it back in the desk and walked to the door. He didn't even glance to the person as he walked by, opened the door and continued to where they would sit. "Come on in, have a seat anywhere." Evan took a seat in his personal favorite chair. It was actually the one that used to reside in his apartment, but he'd since moved it into his office because he now spent more time in there than at home. He settled back, laced his fingers together in his lap and looked up at his guest, smiling pleasantly.

The smile dropped and his eyes widened as he realized this was his old friend Anthony standing before him. The strange dress registered a few seconds and blinks later. Slowly, Evan took his glasses off, rubbed them with his shirt, and placed them back on his nose, and looked back at Anthony. Cleaning the glasses had not helped. Here his friend stood, looking shitty as ever, with a bright construction worker's vest and girl's shorts on. His boxers even stuck out the ends of the shorts.

Evan reacted in a rush. He stood up, hands rubbing together nervously. "Anthony?!" He rushed over to the desk, pulled out the binder and attempted to find the paper. "My god, Anthony-- It's been forever-- I mean, uhh.." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express both how surprised and how happy he was to see his friend again. But there in the back of his mind was that he also did not want to see Anthony, and that Anthony looked extra terrible, which meant extra trouble. Finally locating the file, Evan stared at it for a moment. There it was. The name. Anthony Sanderson.

Dropping the paper, Evan turned and ran at Anthony and wrapped him in a tight hug. He couldn't help himself. His happiness to see Anthony again won out over his wariness, and he ignored every alarm bell that was ringing in his head. He waited several seconds before pulling away, but still held Anty at arm's length, simply staring at his face. "It's good to see you again." He couldn't put it into simpler words.

[Anty]

Anthony didn't need a therapist. And this was August's fault... And he thought that before he knew it was Evan. The door opened, but not nearly enough for Anthony to walk through, so he had to kick it open with his foot, his hands preoccupied with the cardboard box carrying Evan, his rat.

The room.. it was familiar. And the smell, it smelled like home. He set the box down on the desk, afraid of dropping it. Taking a step back, Anthony sat down onto the fainting chair, taking another long look at the room. That chair. That was Evan's chair. The doctor's name was Evan. His rat's name was Evan. Evan was everywhere. Evan controlled his life. Anthony swallowed. Evan was his life. Emphasis on the was. Evan was the reason he drank, and why he didn't. He's sober now, isn't he?

He re-focused his eyes to see someone sitting in the chair. To see Evan in the chair. Anthony knew that his reaction could well re-make or re-ruin their relationship.

Anthony's eyeballs followed Evan's every move. Evan stood, then he walked behind his desk, at that point, Anthony considered leaving. He stood to leave, but then Evan came back, grabbing him into a hug. It was comforting, but he didn't want to have sex with it. He tried hugging back, but his arms were like noodles, flopping around at his side.

How could Evan welcome him back like this after what he had done? Which was break his heart. He had slept with his ex, the one that Anthony hated. She was such a slut, but a pretty one. A very pretty one. So why was Evan happy? Anthony was not. He was confused. Should he play along with the joy? He could always opt with punching Evan in the face. But Evan was too cute for that, and maybe Anthony should give loving him a try...

Anthony sat back down on the fainting chair, biting his lip. Too many choices... He laid back, staring up at the spinning fan. Loving him, or hating him. Maybe just the occasional sex? Anthony squeezed his eyes shut. That was sick.

Hating him. It seemed like the answer. Yes. And anyways, Evan had to be out of his league. Damn. He sat up; the vest was starting to make him itch, and he stripped it off, shirtless now. Laying back down, he closed his eyes. Why was everything so difficult when he was sober?

Hating him. Right. That's what he was sticking to. "Evan I... I can't do this. I can't hate you. I love you."

[Waddle]

When Anthony sat down, Evan felt his heart fall somewhat. His mouth formed a little 'o' and he knew his eyes were practically begging. He wanted Anthony's approval; he wanted a return hug, not just stoned dismissiveness. Then Evan realized that Anty was, for once, completely sober. He'd not even smelled alcohol on him. That foreign, off-the-charts thought would have made him stumble, had he been walking. But since he wasn't, it just made his mouth get a little wider, and his expression go from puppy eyes to surprise. Anthony Wade Sanderson, sober. Anty. With no booze within arm's reach, and no slut hanging on his arm. And yet he still looked bad as ever, with an added tone of crazy. A large added tone of crazy.

Evan stared at Anthony's bare torso, so lost within swirling thoughts that he almost didn't catch what he said. He knew it was true, Jerking his eyes away and back to his friend's, or ex-friend's, face, Evan cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together uncomfortably. He stammered over his words. "I-I love you too..."[/color] It was true, too. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, to fight it, to run from it, he couldn't. He'd tried, tried to pretend that he hated Anthony, hated his guts, and he'd ended up almost getting himself killed. Or rather, killing himself. He was never going to live like that again. Merely thinking about it caused his mind to split, and two different sides reared their ugly heads. He should just sit down. He should punch Anthony. He should remain calm and think through this rationally. He should be irrational like he truly deserved, after all the shit Anthony put him through.

He distracted himself from his racing thoughts by pulling his armchair around to face Anthony and pulling it closer to him. Taking a seat, Evan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing together, watching his patient with intense blue eyes. That was all Anthony was. His patient. It was time they get down to business, and stop messing around with unimportant crap. He was denying that this really was important. Denial had become a big part of him, so big that sometimes he didn't even
notice he was in denial.

He spoke slowly, uncertainly, faltering on occasion. "But you're not... not here to think about that now... Are you?"[/b] He tried to laugh, but it was little more than a shaky chuckle. Had he not been rubbing his hands together tightly, they would have been shaking. He leaned back and forced himself to breath deeply, steadying himself. "But holy fuck, man, you look terrible." His mouth twitched upwards, and a huge grin sneaked its way onto his face. "Just like old times, 'cept minus the booze and adding a hint of insanity."[/b][/size]

[Anty]

Anthony sat back up, this time Indian-style. His eyes followed Evan again, feeling like a fool for admitting that. Or lying to Evan, whatever. He wasn't sure. And even if I don't love him.. at least I've got the option. If I told him I hated him, I would be giving myself the boot...

He re-focused his eyes again, realizing he had been staring intently as Evan moved to sit in front of him. Was Evan.. nervous? And if he had heard right, Evan loved him back. Anthony could hardly register what he himself meant by love, but Evan? Did he mean as friends? Anthony's mind was going way too fast for his own good, and Evan's voice brought him back to the present.

"I'm here for... What?", Anthony said, attempting to recall what August's exact words were. "I'm here to straighten everything out. My childhood, everything. Even trying to fix my life. Make a recovery. Start a new life." Those seem to be the persuasive words August had used on him.

Anthony's arms were crossed, but his fingernails were digging into his arm from the grip. This wasn't natural. They weren't filled with a bottle of booze or a woman. Listening to Evan's words, Anthony self-consciously looked down at his stomach. His ribs poked out, and not to mention his hips, which jutted out. He ran his fingers through his hair; it was still blond, though the roots were returning to their natural shade of black. He admitted it, it must have been a pretty gruesome sight. "That's where malnutrition gets you," he said sardonically.

Booze. Anthony twitched, thinking about it. And thinking about how vulnerable he felt right now. He was here to talk about himself, something he didn't like doing. He could easily lie his way through the pain, later to wash it all away with booze. If he was dealing with a stranger. But this was Evan, who knows almost everything about him. At least his past. He wished for a drink now. And somehow he turned it all around so it was Evan's fault.

Biting his lip, a habit of his, especially when fighting sobriety, he pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it, he began to talk again. "Insanity? I'm not insane," he said between puffs on the cigarette. "If anyone, you're the one who's insane. And, face it, no fancy clothes," he nodded to the upscale clothes Evan was sporting, "or glasses could hide it. And don't even try and act like you're the fucking boss here," he finished, staring down at Evan's hands. Nothing could go wrong if he told him he loved him.

[Waddle]

Start a new life. Yeah, right. Like Anthony would ever do that. Evan wondered just who had had to bribe Anthony into this. Probably one of the women who was always with them. Maybe one who actually cared about him. Maybe she said something along the lines of "If you don't get yourself straightened out, then I'm leaving." She had to be one hell of a woman to make Anthony do this. Why she wasn't here with him was a mystery. Anthony would have probably done anything in his power to not come here. He didn't want to get his life straightened out. What he'd said was too rehearsed. Those were probably the exact words that the woman said. Evan knew Anthony too well, and he was not going to be fooled, but he didn't say a word.

Evan watched the cigarette for a moment. He actually liked his office not smelling like smoke. Oh well. The smell would fade eventually. Startled out of his thoughts by Ant's words, Evan stared at him, watching the words form on his mouth, and wishing he was just not hearing right. Anthony knew him so well, all too well. He knew just how to distract Evan, just how to play him like a puppet. Even though he was wincing inside, Evan decided to put his foot down and stand firm this time. Anthony had just said he loved Evan, and here he was, practically insulting him. Evan sat back, hands folding in his lap, and crossed his legs.

"It will take boss to straighten your life out, Anthony. I doubt it'll be me, but you will need someone there to keep you under wraps."[/b] He couldn't help but to glance down at his clothing. He was dressed rather neatly compared to his normal attire. Khaki dress pants, smart-looking black button-up polo, new black belt, and black dress shoes. With every second that passed, he was becoming more self-conscious and aware of every little mistake he had made since he had opened the door. He was quickly finding more and more mistakes that were more or less just regrets. Everything in the past couple of minutes was a mistake. He was confusing himself as he thought of ways he could have made the situation not like this. Somehow, Anthony made him think that it was all his fault. Somehow, Anthony made him think everything in the world was his fault.

He was just weak, he realized. He was just a fool. A coward. He had already let his friend walk all over him before. He'd lived with the man for heaven's sake.

Noticing he had trailed off and was now staring thoughtfully over Anthony's head, Evan jerked himself back to the present, hoping Anthony hadn't said anything in the time he'd been distracted, and also that he hadn't noticed it.

"But you're not here to talk about me. You're here to talk about you. But since I pretty much already know everything that's wrong with you..." he trailed off momentarily, running a mental list through his mind of Anthony's many drug and alcohol problems, then continued, "we don't have to worry about that. Unless there's something new? Anything at all?"[/b] Evan wanted to know what Anthony had done with himself the past few weeks since the two had grown distant. Even though he doubted it was anything new, there could be something. Like a woman who had become special to him. Or maybe he tried to stop smoking or drinking.

Here he was again. Trying to think Anthony was better than really was. Wishing Anthony could be better than he really was. Practically needing Anthony to be better than he really was. But nothing was ever going to change. Nothing ever did change with Anthony. No matter how much Evan had tried, he had never been able to help Anthony. But maybe if he thought of Anthony as a patient instead of a friend, he could do something to help.

And still, a doubtful thought wormed its way into his mind. He was never going to change Anthony, and he was never going to stop being in love with him. Shoving the thought away by scratching his ear, Evan smiled brightly at Anthony, and hid the desperation he felt inside.[/size]

[Anty]

Anthony loved this moment so much he wanted to have sex with. He waited for Evan to breakdown. Or maybe he would explode. Either way, Anthony was going to enjoy it. He even wished for a bucket of fried chicken to go along with this moment. Searching Evan's face, he waited some more. Boy, he really must have hurt him! He was shocked out of words.

But the hurt never came. Evan looked so content with it all. Surely it had to hurt... But no. He was treating him if he was... Anthony swallowed. Crazy.

No. Anthony refused. He wouldn't be treated like some sort of someone who still needed to be housed in a mental asylum(note: still).

He smiled apologetically, still smoking his cigarette. "S-Sorry..." he said, listening to his words. And admitting they were true. Now that he thinks you're crazy, you can say anything you want and get away with it. Probably, Anthony realized. "I know... But I don't really want to change it. I like it. Except the hangovers... " He trailed off, agreeing with what he had said. And if it helped any, Anthony actually really liked Evan dressed up. He could see that it was a last minute thing, picking them out of the pile of clothes laying on his bedroom floor. Or maybe he had worn them to a party the night before, crashed in them later that night, and didn't care to change in the morning. It reminded him of how reckless they used to be together, and how reckless they were apart from each other.

"Well... " he trailed off thoughtfully, trying to concentrate on anything new that struck him as important. He thought about telling him how he had met a girl, one who seemed special; he had told her to wait at his apartment as he rushed to work, but by the time he got home, she was gone. Maybe he was supposed to tell him about those reoccurring dreams, and the way he was still afraid to sleep at night because of them. Or how he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. But he didn't. Instead he went with August. August and Pierce.

"August," he started. "You remember her, don't you? Well, she's seeing my brother now. And... And he says really inappropriate stuff about it. And it makes me want to drink."

Unconsciously, his hand slipped behind his back, searching for the gun that hid, resting comfortably between his back and the waist line of his pants. He pulled it out, keeping it hidden from view behind his back, and played with the trigger. It had been so long since he had used it... It felt odd in his hand, but it was better than being empty-handed.

[Waddle]

Evan chuckled. Of course. The hangovers. Anthony never had understood that with drinking came the hangovers. Either that, or he just didn't care while he was drinking. He would just never change. Evan knew they were wasting time here, no matter how much he wished they weren't. But they were here. They were talking. Neither of them were comatose. He almost wished that their reunion would've been in a bar, with both of them decently drunk and not caring. None of this serious crap talk. Evan missed the days when they didn't care. When they were extremely stupid (not that either of them were much better now). In the silence that followed for a few seconds, he heard the clock ticking. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It was counting down their time. Evan wished he could rewind it. So much to do, so much he wanted to say and didn't know how.

Would next time be too late? Next time they say each other? Could he have figured out what he wanted to say by then? It could've been later that night, or next week, during their next appointment, or, knowing Anthony, it could be weeks, months even. They were here right now. Evan took a breath to say something, anything, but then Anthony continued.

Evan blinked several times. Who were these people? Anthony had a brother? "No, I'm afraid I don't know August. You have a brother?"[/b] Evan's eyebrows raised. He was pretty sure he had known everything there was no know about Anty. But, then again, he always did assume things that he also knew wouldn't come true. Then he was let down when they didn't come true. Shaking his head mentally, he shoved thoughts and memories away. He should not have been surprised that Anthony had a brother. He probably had several neither of them knew of. His mother had, after all, been a whore. He instantly felt guilty for calling her that in his mind. Still, she had been a prostitute. And thinking prostitute wasn't much better than whore. It was just more of a tongue twister.

Pulling his mind back to the matter at hand - he always got so distracted anytime Anthony was around - he pursed his lips thoughtfully. Inappropriate talk making Anthony want to drink. Another load of rubbish. "Dammit, Anty, I know you better than that. You know I know you better than that. Anything makes you want to drink, and have sex. So let's skip the exuses, may we?"[/b] He hoped he hadn't just insulted Anthony, and that moment of doubt flashed across his face as his smile faded. "Oh, well..." he mumbled awkwardly. "Don't mean to offend or anything. It's just.. You know. We've known each other for a while."[/b][/size]

[Anty]

(Before you read: This is crazy all over the place.)

Anthony put the cigarette to his mouth, taking in the smoke. Evan didn't know these people. It was pretty shocking. Outside of beer and sex, these people were practically his life. It all seemed to happen after he had left the safety of Evan's apartment. That night on the beach where he had met August. Though he didn't remember much, he had somehow convinced her to become a hunter. And then Pierce had come along. And now here he sat with Evan. Maybe Pierce and August were just a way to distract Anthony away from Evan. And now, it seems they have brought the two back together again. And maybe it meant he didn't need to worry about them, because they were just distractions. Anthony put it all together in what seemed like seconds. To him, at least.

"You.. you don't? Are you sure.. ?" he asked, letting out the smoke as he spoke. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean, August is just Ryan's half-sister. You know, that guy I had gay sex with in the army," he continued, rambling on. Thinking back on it, Anthony remembered how he had never actually helped in the war, unless fetching the sergeant water counted...

Sitting a little taller, Anthony felt a bit offended by that. They were starting to sound like that old married couple. That one who starts arguing about the smallest things. "Not everything makes me want to drink and have sex, ya know. Some things only make me wanna drink." he said. It sounded like he was trying to make a joke, but really, he was being truthful. And there he goes apologizing again... Anthony had started to notice a pattern in Evan. It was like he was two people, instead of one. Funny how he had never noticed that before... But he just shrugged it off casually.

[Waddle]

Jealousy briefly flared in Evan's heart. Anthony had been in the army for how long, four years? He'd probably gotten that Ryan fellow into bed before he did anything else. Evan had known Anthony for almost a decade now-- No. He wouldn't think on it right now. Petty jealousy wasn't going to do anything to help... well, anything. He basically forced himself to chuckle at Anthony's joke that he knew was the truth. So Anthony had found himself a friend or two or however many it was. It was good to hear. Even if they were gay, or the gay one's half-sister. Evan wondered if the brother was a truly flesh-and-blood brother or just that close of a friend. Either way, it was good. A giddy excitement gripped Evan, and he wondered if it was more than just good news from Anthony. Anty's mere presence, perhaps? Was he just going crazy, or was it too late to say 'going'? No matter what it was, he couldn't stop himself from giggling like a moron.

Memories of a older time when he wasn't jealous, wasn't worried, wasn't confused came back to him. It wasn't a very long time ago, in fact. Life with (or without) Anthony had never been the best, but it was fun, and that was all Evan had cared about. Ten his mind flashed farther back, to when he'd first met Anthony. It was fogged by alcohol and time's passage, but it was there. Their bar brawl, during his college days. Then to after that, when he and Anty had gotten close. Evan wondered then that if it had been the worse mistake of his life.

It could all be worse, Evan Carter. You know it could be. Hell, you could be in Ant's place. I think I'd rather be here than in his place, even if it means being a little bit unstable.[/i] So there. He'd admitted to himself that he was unstable. The giddiness faded immediately. He'd never wanted to say it, but since Anthony had turned him down, he'd been a wreck. He'd been more than a wreck right after Anty had turned him down - he'd been suicidal and just crazy - but now he'd gotten over that. But wounds that deep took time to heal, and he simply needed distractions. The scars would be there forever, but they weren't his life. Anthony wasn't his life.

But he wasn't here for him. He had to constantly remind himself - Anthony was the patient here, and he, himself, the therapist. He shook his head, propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair and scratched his jaw, avoiding Anthony's eyes. His mind was scattered into so many places at once and he had to let all the other ones go. He had to focus. "Either way, both aren't very healthy hobbies," he mumbled to the wall.

Something smelled horrid. It was barely noticeable because of the smell of cigarette smoke. But it was horrible. Evan tilted his head back to try to get a better whiff of it, blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. He stood up and walked to his desk, to the box Anthony had set down on it. Evan hadn't even considered what it could be, but when he looked into it, he nearly gagged. A dead rat that looked like it had been flattened partially by... a tire? "Anthony?"[/b] he asked in a high-pitched voice, backing away from the box. "What the hell are you doing with that?"[/b][/size]

[Anty]

(Excuse the grammar mistakes you'll most-likely find in this, but I was rushing, ok?? Forgive me if you will? *holds out basket of kitties as offering* )

Anthony half-listened. If that's even what you would call it. Evan's words didn't really matter, because he was seeing a crazy person, a nutcase, a psycho. All of the above. He wasn't seeing Anthony, because Anthony was none of the above; Anthony didn't want to listen to some stranger's(or his facade's, whatever) problems anymore. Enough of this act, he decided. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch the therapist's attention. Nada. Evan seemed to be in a daze, or perhaps he was daydreaming; either way, Anthony new he would have to come out of his stupor state eventually. Sure enough, a few moments later, he was back in action! And now moving onto something else: the dead rat.

Anthony had almost forgotten about his little friend, also a part of his facade. He stood, stretching, as he explained to Evan everything about the plan he had made. How he had put on a ridiculous outfit, which he was now managing to strip off, and how he had felt sorry for the rat he had run over and killed. He even told him about the rat's new name: Evan.

Now, as Anthony stood there in his regular attire, his boxers, he decided to do something rash. Yes, he would regret it, but not as much as he would regret if he had decided against it. He had never been the type to take relationships seriously, even in his younger days. Nowadays, they would call him a player. But now, as Anthony watched Evan, he was considering it. Maybe it was the fancy clothes (the ones he had made fun of earlier?) making Evan seem so irresistible and out of his league. If that was true, then why did Anthony get the feeling that his want for Evan's love had always been there? Oh, what the hell, he thought. Evan would turn him down anyways.

Anthony took a few steps forward, standing in front of Evan. Clearing his throat again, he leaned back against the desk, his arms folded over his chest, the gun held firmly in his grip. "Evan," he said, hoping that he would at least catch a whiff of what he was saying. As long as he's not daydreaming again... "Have you ever considered... " he trailed off, feeling suddenly nervous, and once more clearing his throat. He's going to say no! But despite the bad feeling in his gut, he began again. "Have you ever considered "us". I mean, not just "us" as friends, but more than that?" It was all wrong. In his mind he had imagined his normal, go-getter, smooth-talking kind of thing, and this time, he had sounded nervous, worried even. There was always the possibility that Evan would think he sounded cute. Too bad Anthony hated being cute.

[Waddle]

[HA xD *takes kitties* It's totally fine. .... *offers kitties back slowly* .... Sorry for lateness and shortness and crappiness... Been having computer issues that caused the last two problems.]

This wasn't the first time Evan had heard those words. It's best to start at the beginning and go from there. See, there are three types of therapy patients. One, the kind who do want to change. Two, the type who are forced into therapy by friends or family. And three, the type who just don't give a shit and only come because they have nothing better to do. And why did Evan get the feeling that Anthony claimed that last option with some pride? So Evan listened, nodding on occasion, just to tell Anthony that he was still listening, even as his mind filed away everything for later rethinking. Everything. Every word, Anthony's hands, his eyes, pauses in speech... Anything. Evan had learned that the smallest thing, a flick of the eyes, a carefully chosen word, could lead to the problem that the patient (or anyone) was trying to avoid.

Nothing was real for Anthony. This thought crossed Evan's mind as Anthony came close to wrapping up his story. It was all just a game. Did he think he was immortal? Probably. The reason? Because someone was always there to catch him when he fell and nurse him back to health, all the while taking both the blows that should have landed on Anthony and those that Anthony delivered, be it by harsh words or physical actions. For a long time, that someone had been Evan. And it had left him broken.

After a second's contemplation, Evan decided something. Anthony was like a woman. You couldn't live with him. And you couldn't kill him. To be more exact, I can't live with him or without him, and I couldn't kill him but I can't keep him alive...

So what am I doing here? A hamster on a wheel, running, running, trying but going nowhere. Except I don't have that hamster's common sense. I won't get off this wheel and go to my happy place. I'm stuck by my own force of will, by what my heart desires. It's all useless...[/i]

Jerking himself out of his thoughts and back to Anthony, Evan watched him and waited for what was about to come. More confessions? Lies? Fake apologies? What would it matter?

His friend's words struck hard. More then friends. Repeating these three simple words in his head took a long time. Should he? Should he not? Of course he shouldn't, but here it was! The one chance he'd been wanting for so damn long. How could he pass it up, how could he back down now? That was it. No more questions. No more uncertainties.

Evan didn't answer Anthony's question with words. His answer was to step close and lean into Anthony's body, hands raised to cup Anthony's jaws and French kiss him. His mind was blank, and the only thing in the world that mattered anymore was Anthony. The only reason he had anymore.[/size]

[Anty]

(If you don't understand this post, just ask me and I'll explain, k? )

Anthony knew the answer to his question before he actually knew it. The silence gave it to him, happily it would do so, in a singsong voice. No. Because Anthony thought he knew everything about relationships; he had his experience, after all, and silence was the worst way for things to go. Anthony cast his head down, trying to hide the disappointment. Evan had thought about them, possibly, before Anthony had ruined it with his cheating and his lying, his addictions, those one-night-stands... You get the point.

But Anthony was wrong; in this case, silence was probably the best outcome. Silence followed by passionate kissing? Yeah. Anyways, Anthony felt hands cup around his gaunt face, and he looked up, slowly, into Evan's eyes, afraid of what he would see. Oddly enough, though, he was pleased with what he saw: Evan's face, inches away from his own. His body pressed against his own.

Apparently, Evan felt the same way as him. Either that or he was just really horny... Could be both, anyways. Anthony would have gladly finished the gap between the two of them, but it didn't seem necessary. Evan's lips graced his lips first, but soon Anthony fell completely under the spell, and pushed his lips hard against Evan's. He pushed Evan backwards, gaining confidence, he pushed him against the wall, intertwining their fingers. Their lips passionately, and feverishly pressed together, moving as one. Their tongues, exploring a whole new sensation.

Finally, they stopped, Anthony now being the one against the wall, he leaned back against it. That was something... something he had only dreamed of. Anthony had always been the one to make the first move. And for those reasons, the facts that Evan hadn't rejected him, and he had thought about them. He even made the first move. It all led him to speak up, his voice still a little nervous. "Evan I don't want to be friends," he began, gaining more of that smooth talk as he continued. "I want more than that. Because Evan, I thought that I could live without you, but I was wrong. My life's a wreck without you, and I realize this now. And what we have... it's special, one-of-a-kind, who in their right mind would throw that out for some normal love life, and life style? I'm sorry I tried being normal... Being straight. I'm not, and I want to be weird, and abnormal with only one person, Evvie. And that person is you. I need you. I love you more than anything, can we be together? No more breaks, no more hookups. Just you and me. Please."

[Waddle]

As he listened the to Anthony, Evan's eyes flashed back and forth between Anthony's. He was looking for the lie, looking and failing to find it. It had to be there, it had to be. He couldn't believe what had just happened, and that he yearned to accept Anthony's offer. He knew it would all go up in flames, he KNEW it! That was just how it always was with Anthony. And yet why was part of him willing to risk it all, risk it once again? Risk his life even? There was no rational answer for that. The only answer there was was that he simply wanted it.

Pulling back from Anthony, Evan looked away, at the ground, trying to force himself to say no. To say that they would never work out. To say what his mind knew. His heart yearned for it, he wanted, no, needed Anthony. Did he want to stay the normal guy with something giant missing, or did he want to say 'To hell with it all!' and have that hole filled? Only to have it ripped out again... No. He wasn't going to think like that. Not anymore. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he turned back to Anty - First time I've seriously called him that in a while.[/i] - and smiled.

"Just you and me," he said quietly. "Just you and me."[/b] That was all he needed. He was proud to say that he needed Anthony, and now... Now here he was. Right when Evan had been about to let go and try to forget it all. It never would have succeeded. It would have haunted him till the end. But now it was all better. Wasn't it? Of course it was. It had to be worth it. Anything was better than to regret half of his life. Anthony had been there, with him, for so much... Why was he only seeing this now? Evan may have been there for Anthony a lot more than vise versa, but when Evan had seriously needed help, Anty had been there. When Ace had nearly killed Evan. When Evan discovered he was quite allergic to cocaine (go figure). When he'd been suicidal and didn't care. And now here they both were.

Hiding the scars and trying to right the wrongs. Pretending like they knew it would work. Anthony may have thought it would, but Evan got the feeling that he knew Anthony better than he knew himself. Now, the question was - which 'himself' was Anthony, and which was Evan?

(In case that last bit didn't make sense, Evan's is saying "Do I know Anthony better than I know myself, or the other way around?" And sorry for shortness, very little muse.)[/size]