|Things Left Unsaid
Author: beccyorange PM
FIC REOPENED. MORE INFO IN CHAPTER 9 After a tragic accident, which turns the duo into a one-o, the surviving person realises the things he never said. Slight Ianthony, nothing major. Angst. Angst everywhere. Please read and review, and share this fic with your friendsRated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Hurt/Comfort - Smosh - Chapters: 15 - Words: 7,741 - Reviews: 34 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 08-15-12 - Published: 04-13-12 - id: 8019516
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Could our food TAKE any longer?" I asked sarcastically as Ian and I sat in the drivethrough, waiting for our tacos…yes…tacos…AGAIN! This wasn't being recorded for a Lunchtime With Smosh and we still ate really unhealthy.
It was a rainy and dreary day. Cold and gloomy and unhappy. It seemed to make everyone unhappy. Ian and I seemed to be the exception, as we had both had our twitter verified earlier on that day.
When we got our food Ian restarted the car and we drove back home. The roads were slippery and dangerous. Numerous cars had no lights on, and the rain had started to fall heavily again, obscuring the road and our view. We stopped at a red light. Then drove on. Then stopped at another. Then drove.
It was at our third traffic light that we had got a green light and could drive straight through, when there was a sickening CRUNCH coming from the drivers side of the car.
I turned my head around quickly, hearing my neck crack, and saw an sight that I wish I had never seen.
A truck had failed to stop and had slammed into the drivers side door, and had smashed into Ian.
"SHIT IAN!" I screamed, terrified for my best friend
"A-Anthony?" he asked, his voice quiet and terrified, as he turned to face me.
I was horrified by what I saw. Blood dripped down the side of his face. His legendary bowl haircut was sticky with blood oozing out of a deep wound on his skull. A dark patch was growing on his shirt, and although I was terrified, I lifted his shirt to see the wound.
Oh god and I wished I hadn't. There was a deep wound, blood pouring out of it, I could see that he had broken ribs.
I sat there motionless, as I watched my best friend. As I watched the light leave his pale, blue eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly. His eyes stared at me, trying to memorize my face. Then his chest stopped rising and falling. His heart had stopped beating. Ian Andrew Hecox, my best friend, had just died.
I could hear screams for someone to call an ambulance. But it seemed like all background noise.
I couldn't comprehend the series of event that had just occurred. All I could figure out was my best friend was dead.