Regret (Ianthony)

Two Months, Two Weeks Prior

"Fuck, I can't handle this heat," Ian groaned, putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight. It was true; May had brought nothing but warmth, which, while being a nice deviation from all the cold that had posed as spring, meant it felt like the inside of a volcano in Sacramento. At nearly a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, the two men found themselves outside, having decided that they needed to get out of the house every once in a while. Sitting on the scratchy pavement beside Ian, Anthony couldn't help but notice how different it was from the last time he had come out and sat on this driveway with Ian. It was a good change, and he could live with the heat knowing that Ian wouldn't burst in to tears like last time.

Shrugging, Anthony questioned, "What'd you expect? We came out here to get tan, y'know." Ian needed it more than Anthony, who was naturally tan by standard. Anthony thought Ian's paleness was cute, but Ian hated it. After all, it was only human nature to desire what one cannot obtain.

"Yeah, but still..." Ian sighed. He suddenly froze, eyes slamming shut.

"Uh, Ian?" Anthony asked nervously. Why did weird things always happen when they went outside? All they wanted was a tan...

"Shut the fuck up, dude," Ian replied stoically, and Anthony realized that he had closed his eyes to retain focus on whatever he was trying to observe. "Hear that?" he inquired after a second's silence.

Anthony, too, scrunched his eyes closed in an attempt to tune all his senses out, apart from hearing. He paused, not sensing anything at first, but after a moment, he, too, heard an extremely quiet tune playing through the near-summer wind. It was growing in volume by the second, and Anthony knew they didn't have any time to spare.

At the same time, they shouted, "THE ICE CREAM TRUCK!!!" and immediately shot up and onto their feet, scrounging their pockets for loose change.

"Shit, I've got nothing!" Anthony exclaimed as the music continued to get louder, signalling that it was closing the distance to their driveway.

Ian forked over a single five dollar bill. "I got this!" he yelled, hearing the melody and its loudness. The two ran to the side of the road and looked left. It wasn't there. They looked right. There, at the intersection between the end of their street and the crossing of another street, the ice cream truck flashed by, no intention of trekking down their road.

"Fuck!" Anthony screamed, stomping at the ground. The music was already fading into the distance, which meant they were loosing their chance at cheap, delicious delectables that would somewhat provide relief from the intense outdoor heat.

With a determined look to his features, Ian ordered, "Anthony, get in my car. We're catching this motherfucker."

Without once questioning the demand, Anthony dashed with Ian to the open garaged, jumping into Ian's car's passenger seat as Ian slid into the driver's side. His keys, which were luckily always kept in the ignition in case of an emergency (like this one), were already being used to start up the car when Anthony was buckling up. Ian quickly strapped himself in and put the car in reverse before punching the gas, causing them to shoot backwards. He hit the breaks, which made Anthony's seat belt tighten in protest. Ian turned the car and drove into the street, going about five miles over the speed limit. At this rate, the ice cream truck was in bound in no time, tune muted by the windows of Ian's car.

Putting the petal to the metal (not literally, of course), Ian sped to the side of the truck and honked at it. There were no other cars on the streets at the moment apart from a stray minivan from time to time, so there was practically no one to look at him like he was crazy apart from the ice cream truck driver.

Anthony rolled down his window and screamed over the blaring music emitting from the truck beside them, "Pull over RIGHT NOW!!!"

The man, who had wide watery green eyes and white-blonde hair, instantly pulled over at the next street, which was thankfully empty of cars. He jumped out of the truck and held his hands up in the air to Ian and Anthony, who had also decided to get out.

"Look, I don't know what you guys want, bu-"

Interrupting the man, Ian spoke, "Dude, we just wanna buy some ice cream." The relief on the man's face was not to be rivalled with.

Anthony laughed as the man began handing them their treats, noticing the quiver in his movements.