Hold On (Ianthony)

Part 22

A/N: Who else didn't have school today ayy lmao thanks presidents B)

I paced down the hallway, mentally scowling at myself. I was being ridiculous. So riciculous.

But, then again, Ian was gone with friends for the night. I had a few good hours. I could finally see what was in that book he kept behind his bed, the book I've caught him reading three times now.

No. It was his personal business. I had no right to intervene.

But, I was curious. And he was really defensive over whatever it was. It had to be important. He would probably want me to read it. 

I shook my head and cursed as I pushed his door open. Last night, after I got home, I walked in to find his head buried in the book at the dining room table. When he saw me, he jumped out of the chair and threw it behind his back.

He didn't want me to see it, obviously. As his best friend, I had to respect that.

But, as his best friend, I had to look out for him. So I had to see what was in that book.

I sat on his un-made bed and sighed. When I slept in here, I always made the bed for him. But now no one else slept here to do his chores for him.

I looked behind the bed and instantly spotted it, a thin paper journal with a plain blue cover. I set it on his covers and shook my head, biting my lip. This was wrong. God, this was wrong. But I had to know what this was.

I opened it to the first page with shaky hands, being careful not to rip it or leave evidence in any way. 

The first entry was in his sloppy handwriting, written in black ink. I stared at it for a moment, feeling guilt build up in my chest as I started to read.

April 9

The doctor gave me this and told me to write in it every single day. He said not to tell anyone about it either, that it was for my reference and my reference only. I'm not really sure why, but I guess it's kind of a good idea. I guess if I wake up one day and suddenly remember my life, it would be good to know my thoughts while I couldn't remember shit.

Well, I guess my name's Ian. Ian Hecox. I'm twenty-six, I live in Sacramento California with my apparent best friend Anthony. We make videos on YouTube and I guess are one of the biggest channels out there. So, I guess I'm like, famous.

But I don't know why I'm writing this. You already know all that, future remembering-self, if you ever will even exist. I guess the point of this is to write about my day or whatever. Like a thirteen-year-old girl and her diary.

So, yeah, my day. I woke up in a hospital room, and I really can't describe the feeling. I just couldn't remember a thing previous to that. I didn't know who I was, where I was, or how I got there.

And then the doctor told me what happened. Apparently I was in a car accident and hit my head really hard, causing me to have amnesia. Which I really didn't know much about. I think I saw it on Full House once. When Michelle fell off her horse and lost her memory. That was me, but in my car.

A few minutes later I met Anthony, who I guess is my best friend, video and business partner, and roommate. I've only known him for a day, well, technically, I've known him forever, but I just really met him, and so far, he seems like an okay guy. He seems to really love and care for me, which is reasurring. He's sort of sheltering me, but that's not really a bad thing, I guess. If we really are the perfect chick flick best friends like he claims we are, I would probably be doing the same to him.

I don't feel very good. My head hurts, I'm constantly dizzy and nauseous, and my whole body aches every time I even breathe. But I guess I'm lucky to be alive.

I just hope tomorrow's a better day. Maybe I'll wake up and everything will be normal again. In which case, this would be a pretty lame journal, but whatever.

I ran my hand over my face, my lungs closing up a little. I thumbed through the pages carefully, biting down hard on my bottom lip. Nearly every page was filled, from the first day to the very last day before he woke up and remembered. I wondered when he did this without me noticing, since we were basically connected at the hip. But he was sneaky like that.

I began scanning through every entry, the feeling of guilt being overtaken by sadness and pain for what he went through. I scanned through his whole journey, from the time we first tried to shoot Game Bang, to his first visit with the doctor, to me telling him about Melanie, to me leaving for a few days, to him wanting to kill himself, to his nightmares, to me sleeping in with him, to me telling him I loved him. For the first time, I really got a taste of what it was really like. How scared, confused, alone, and helpless he was at first. How miserable he was when he first became depressed. How much he really wished I wouldn't have come home at the time I did. How he was so glad later that I did. How he eventually found happiness, in his surroundings, in himself, in me.

I must have been there for a good two hours, losing myself in the pages. I forgot all about the guilt, the worry, emotions in general. I felt so empty but so whole at the same time. And soon I found myself on the last page, the last night before he woke up and never wrote in this little journal again.

I took a deep breath and was just about to being reading, when I heard something behind me, causing me to slam the book shut and jump about ten feet in the air.

"What the hell, man?!"

Ian.