"Barber shop pole."

"What?" Ian and Anthony were in the car in their garage after a day of signing papers and doctors giving them redundant and specific medical instructions. Including Ian's mother's constant suggestion that Ian come live with her but Anthony was able to weed her off, seeing Ian's tired reluctance at the sentiment.

"Never mind," Anthony said, releasing Ian's seat belt. "It's just some thing we did in our videos."

"I guess I should watch them, huh?"

Anthony nodded and got out to back of the car to take out the wheelchair. Ian could not walk on his own yet and it was difficult using crutches. His hands would spasm if he clenched anything for too long and his fingers would tense up under stress. Ian's broken foot was almost healed but his legs never moved right and Anthony saw his best friend struggle with that every day.

"Hey, Anthony?" Ian called, the car door opening.

"Yep?"

Anthony was able to arrange the wheelchair to fit between the car and the wall, wheeling it up next to Ian. Ian had managed to move his legs out of the car, gripping the frame of the car in exhaustion. He gave Ian a look of disapproval but he didn't reprimand Ian any further, too tired to argue after the long day at the hospital.

"Can I try getting into the chair myself?"

"No way. Look at you, man," Anthony said, making to lift Ian out of the car but his hands were pushed away, "You're tired just from that."

"Yeah, but," Ian panted, planting his good hand on the arm rest of the wheelchair. "I want to try. Please, Anthony?"

Anthony huffed, staring at Ian's pleading blue eyes. "Fine," he gave in, "just don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Okay, mom," Ian teased, smiling. Anthony watched as Ian used his one hand to hoist himself off the seat, back bent as he stood unsteady under the car frame. Anthony was standing behind the wheelchair, itching incredibly bad to grab onto Ian as he swayed and trembled from the pressure of standing up. But Anthony wanted to see Ian do this as much as Ian wanted to succeed, so he gripped hard on the chair handles until his knuckles were tensed white.

Ian was almost there. He had only to twist himself around and sit down. Yet as Ian made to turn, his hand quivered and his fingers lost control. He almost went down face first into the metal of the wheelchair but Anthony was quick to bend over it and catch Ian's shoulders.

Ian gasped as they dangled over the chair, the wheels rolling forward as Anthony pushed himself over to him. They struggled for a bit to find their footing but eventually Anthony had walked over the chair and was gripping Ian's shoulder tight, helping him sit back down into the car. Ian's chest heaved up and down, exhaustion and surprise coming out of every breath and Anthony could see again the frustration welling up beneath his hooded eyes.

"You alright?" Anthony whispered, kneeling down in front of Ian. He could see Ian's face reddening and traces of angry tears boiling through his lashes.

"I'm fine," Ian mumbled, kneading his palm to his thigh. Anthony wondered what he should do. He was caught between consoling Ian or letting him try again because he knew Ian would want the latter but he would rather grab Ian and put him to bed where he would be safe.

It was times like this that Anthony wished he knew what to say. Ian was always the one with the jokes and the silly comments that would leave Anthony in a heap of laughter. If there was any problem, Ian would find a way to make it better. It wasn't always Anthony's role to fix things. Anthony would just worry until Ian made it okay again.

Anthony resorted to placing an awkward hand on the side of Ian's neck, wanting to pull him in for reassurance. But Ian turned his head away and pushed Anthony's hand off.

It ended up with Ian holding onto Anthony as he lowered his hurt friend into the chair. As Anthony wheeled Ian inside their home, the only sounds was the creak of the wheels and Ian's quiet sniffs.

He didn't remember everything, Ian knew that. His memory was tested the moment he entered the house and hardly knew where anything was. He saw the furniture and the rooms and he would experience a dull kind of déjà vu. It was as if everything was a long distance away and Ian's fingertips were only grazing the surface of everything, if not anything.

The night of the accident was one of the biggest blanks in his web of memories. He would only recall everything through people describing it to him, the articles that had been written and the doctors who talked about his injuries. Anthony never spoke to him about it and Ian felt inside of him that his friend didn't want to, even if Anthony had been the only person to see all of it firsthand.

Ian was in his room and had been watching Smosh videos for the past hour. As he went through the videos of himself and Anthony, he found himself caught between laughing hysterically and wanting to stop watching all together.

He liked seeing Anthony on screen. He liked listening and seeing themselves banter around each other without a care in the world. Ian could vaguely remember making these videos, being over the top and almost in a way, fighting to be funny. And Ian wanted badly to be like this again.

But every time he would snatch the confidence to be the quirky and funny Ian, one look at Anthony's still face would bring Ian back to reality. It wasn't the same anymore.

"Hey Charlie," Ian said, feeding his guinea pig a pellet as Charlie rested calmly on the table. "You're still the same, right?"

Charlie only took the pellet, chewing on it frantically. Ian sighed and paused the video he was watching. He couldn't watch anymore if it meant always feeling this empty pit of desperation every time. He wheeled himself with one arm towards his bed and tentatively stood up. He managed to flop sideways onto his bed with his useless legs dangling over the edge.

Ian heaved a loud groan, dragging his broken left foot atop of the covers. Anthony had gone out to pick up Makayla from work, promising to be back in time for Ian's bath. Ian's cheeks reddened at the thought, dreading every night when Anthony would fill the tub with water and ease a naked Ian into it. He assumed that this is what seniors felt every bath time; exposed and helpless.

He hadn't complained as much when the nurses at the hospital would wash him but it was different with Anthony. There was a level of comfort with being naked in front of his best friend but once Anthony would touch his bare skin, it would grow several notches past awkward. And the first time, he had had to cover himself with a wet towel because when Anthony went to scrub his back, Ian's body instantly remembered that one incident in the morning.

Thank God Ian was able to convince Anthony that he could wash himself and only needed help in and out of the tub.

Ian heard the garage door opening and the sound of the engine turning off. He grew still, trying to hear if it was only Anthony or Makayla as well.

"Ian?" Anthony called, as if in the short half hour he was gone, Ian could have moved himself anywhere else other than where Anthony had left him last. "Hey, man," He heard Anthony say at the doorway. "Makayla made some cupcakes. Want some?"

Anthony walked over to where Ian lay, holding a container of cupcakes. They were decorated with blue frosting and white sprinkles; blue being his favourite colour as Ian suddenly remembered.

"Is Makayla here?"

"No, why?" Anthony said, kneeling down and holding out a cupcake for Ian. "I just dropped her off at home. That's it." Ian shrugged and tried to grab it but the cupcake was already in front of his mouth. Anthony practically forced Ian to eat it and he mentally sighed to himself wishing Anthony would let him do some things on his own. "I'll go get the bath ready."

Ian managed to swallow before Anthony could shove another cupcake in his face. "Can we skip that tonight? Um, I'm really tired."

Anthony agreed. "You gotta clean your face though."

Ian nodded and his face heated up as Anthony swiped his fingers over Ian's mouth, catching left over frosting and sprinkles. He didn't look at Anthony, too preoccupied with the heat not only spreading over his face but down to his stomach. What was wrong with him?

"I'll be right back."

Once Anthony had left the room, Ian buried his face into his pillow. Things were getting out of hand. He knew Anthony was trying to help him but sometimes he could be too much. It was bad enough that every time Ian needed anything, to move or eat or even just turn on the television, Anthony would be there and too close; too eager to help him.

And Ian was developing feelings. Strange and uncomfortable things that made Ian cringe in fear and smile with contentment. He didn't know whether to yell and scream or just push it down and hope for it to disappear. He was so confused and Ian wanted badly to be certain of something, anything.

"Here." Anthony was back and took Ian's face in his hands and started wiping him with the warm wet cloth. "Guess you should shave tomorrow."

"Right," Ian said, distracted by Anthony's concentrated face. The cloth slid around Ian's cheeks and then softly along his jaw. Ian closed his eyes as Anthony wiped around his forehead. His mind wandered back to that morning in the hospital and how Anthony's face was so relaxed in his sleep. And then how his eyelids had quivered and his mouth opened as he moved against Ian. Ian, catching himself in his unwanted thoughts, grabbed Anthony's wrist hard, his fingers singeing when he felt skin. Anthony stopped, slightly startled.

"What?"

Ian blanched, mouth opening and closing. "Uh..." he fumbled, "Charlie! He's out of his cage."

Anthony looked behind him. "Oh," he said, standing up and away from Ian to pick up the rodent. "Gross, he pooped all over your desk."

Ian forced out a nervous chuckle as Anthony made a face and put Charlie back into his cage. He left the room, holding the brown droplets in the washcloth and complaining. Ian moved onto his back and wiped his face with a shaking sweaty hand.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

It was two in the morning and Anthony could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to stop his racing thoughts. But his mind kept replaying the conversation he had had with Makayla in the car.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

"Tonight?"

Makayla gave him a face as Anthony looked over at her. "Yes, dummy. Tonight."

"Um," Anthony began, making a turn. Sacramento was completely dark at seven in the evening and few cars drove past. "I have to take Ian to therapy first thing in the morning, though."

"So? I'll come with you guys."

"Are you sure? It's pretty boring." Anthony watched out of the corner of his eye as Makayla fiddled with the radio. "I mean, he can get pretty angry sometimes. And he might feel, I don't know, weird with you there. Uh, not that I don't think it's a good idea. It's just... y'know..."

Anthony stopped when Makayla turned off the radio. He felt the air tense as she turned her head, looking out the window.

"What about next week? I think Ian's mom wants him over at her place. His casts are coming off."

"Sure, whatever," she said a little bitter, "Next week. And then Ian's going to need help walking and, oh, he'll feel weird if I'm there."

There was a silence as Anthony stopped at a red light. He bit back a frustrated sigh. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." He stepped on the gas too quickly as they lurched forward. "Look, Ian's just having a rough time and –"

"And you have to play mommy to him like he's some retard special needs kid."

"What the fuck, Kay?" He pulled over at the side of the highway and rapidly turned towards Makayla. She was still staring out the window, unfazed by the sudden stop. "What's your problem?"

"What's my problem?" Makayla turned to face Anthony, the seatbelt keeping her from biting his head. "My problem is that you've completely forgotten about me these past seven weeks. That's a long time, Anthony. It's always Ian this and Ian that. It was a real bitch even asking you to drive me home tonight."

"Are you fucking insane?" Anthony's voice rose as he shut off the engine, the sound from it angering him even more. The keys were thrown harshly into the cup holders between them. "I'm driving you home right now, aren't I? What the hell do you want?"

"You're such an asshole. You don't even know anything." Makayla made to open the door but Anthony was quick to grab her arm. "Let go of me!"

"No! Are you out of your mind? What's gotten into you?"

Anthony was seething with anger and it took him the will power of a dam holding onto a raging river not to dig his nails in Makayla's arm until she bruised. She fought with him, punching him in the chest and slapping him at the neck.

"Let go! You're hurting me!"

He let her go this time, genuinely afraid that he might actually be. A moment after she was free, Makayla was out the door, walking hurriedly down the side of the black highway.

Anthony cursed and got out of the car too, jogging to catch up with his girlfriend. "Makayla!"

"Go away."

"Get back in the car! It's dangerous!" Cars were roaring past them, their headlights granting momentary light to the darkness of the night. "Makayla!"

He grunted and jogged faster. Makayla turned around with her arms crossed and face angry and pale in the cold and Anthony came to a halt. She stayed like that for a while, looking at the ground. "I'm jealous, alright?" she whispered quiet and Anthony almost lost her words to the wind. "Before the accident, you always spent your time doing Smosh and now that Ian's... like that... you spend even more of your time with him."

"Makayla... It's just Ian."

She hugged herself tighter, wiping away tears. "It's just Ian. Right, but—" She sighed and didn't say anything more on the matter. She slapped her hands to her sides. "I'm just so... angry. And I know, it's selfish. But I can't stop that."

Anthony felt so guilty and even as he took her into his arms, promising things would be better, his mind had circled back to Ian who was alone at home with broken bones and memories. And even when he dropped her off, Makayla sniffling and smiling through the tears with a box of cupcakes in her hands, he wanted badly to go home and make sure Ian was okay.

He threw the covers away from his body, feeling constricted all the while thinking back to everything that had happened in the past month and a half. He didn't like being away from Ian too long and he was always keeping an ear and an eye out for him, afraid that in an instant, his friend would be on the ground again, bloodied and not breathing.

Anthony clenched his eyes shut, trying frantically to get rid of the images in his mind. But it was hard to close your eyes to a memory.

He gave up and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Was this what happens when you almost lose somebody? What happens if you actually do? Anthony could not let himself think any further.

Maybe he'll just check up on Ian and make sure everything was okay. Sometimes Ian would toss in his sleep and wake up in a way that would hurt his back all day. Anthony could move Ian to a better position.

He walked slowly out of this room, feeling the walls as he came to Ian's door. The streetlight shadowed his body over the washed white of the door. He quietly turned the knob and snaked into the room, careful that the door didn't creak.

Ian was lying on his back, quiet snores emitting around the room. His hair was fluffed and messy with the side of Ian's face buried in the pale blue pillows. Anthony hesitated, seeing that Ian was fine but he sat onto the foot of the bed anyway. It was another few moments of staring at Ian before Anthony completely laid himself beside his sleeping friend.

He told himself he was only going to be there for a minute in case Ian decided to wake up. He told himself that again after ten minutes and even moved the hair covering Ian's forehead. Anthony let his eyes close, telling himself once again, he would wake up in a few minutes and go back to his own bed.

Not this again, was the first thought that filtered through Ian's head when he woke up next to Anthony. Fortunately, Ian was able to gather his senses together and stop himself from doing anything he would regret. Seeing Anthony beside him had scared him enough that he was wide awake now.

Ian didn't know what to make of this. Anthony was always where he was these days. At the hospital, he would never fail to show up every day and stay for hours, giving Ian maybe half a day of Anthony-free time. And now that they were living at home, Anthony was there all the time.

Ian wondered if Anthony had any other friends to be with, ones that Ian didn't know and would only want to see Anthony. But as he thought about it more, going through faces of the people he remembered, Ian did not have one friend that wasn't friends with Anthony as well. They had all visited, threw a sort of impromptu party the day after Ian was out of the hospital. It was nice to see everyone smiling and happy, drinking and talking about nonsense. They had all tried to make Ian feel 'normal'; telling stories and jokes that only their group would know. For a while, it had warmed Ian that he had so many friends who he loved and cared about, but after the bliss of the party and he and Anthony were alone, the empty lost feeling of being a stranger had crashed down onto him again.

He appreciated Anthony's presence and Ian knew if it was not for his best friend who did everything for him willingly, Ian would not be as well as he is now. Anthony had given Ian a chance at fitting back into his life.

But sometimes Ian would wonder if Anthony were less protective, less worried and gave Ian room to breathe, this unspoken tension between them would dissipate. And then truly, Ian could become himself, or at least the person he thought he should be.

"Hey, you're awake," Anthony said groggily, startling Ian out of his thoughts. He rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep out his eyes. Ian watched as Anthony stretched his back like a slow cat and he gulped, conflicting feelings tackling his body. Anthony kept on stretching and yawning and there was no blanket to cover him. He fought a blush from creeping up his neck by turning his head to the other side and away from Anthony's writhing body.

"Uh, yeah..." Ian managed to say, pulling together the blankets around him. What was Anthony doing here?

Anthony yawned again, "I couldn't sleep and went to check up on you."

"Oh..." Ian said with fidgeting fingers. This was very awkward and Anthony seemed to have finally stilled his distracting body movements. A terse silenced followed and then Ian whipped his head around with accusing eyes. "Wait, why the hell are you in my bed?"

He narrowed his eyes and Anthony furrowed his brows before shrugging nonchalantly. "Uh... I just fell asleep, I guess."

"Right..." Ian was a little sceptical, of what he wasn't quite sure. "Did we have sleepovers in each other's beds before or something?"

"No, of course not," Anthony scoffed, "I was just tired."

"Thought you said you couldn't sleep."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Yeah, this isn't weird at all," Ian said sarcastically. "Are you lonely, Anthony, is that why? Maybe you need Makayla here more often to, yknow..." Ian waggled his eyebrows suggestively but Anthony only rolled his eyes, thumping him on the head.

"Shut up."

Ian smiled, feeling like the awkward tension was draining away. The two of them talked for a bit about things that Ian wouldn't be able to remember in a few days. Just unimportant things that filled Ian with warmth and calmed his yearning for normalcy.

"You know, I kind of lied about remembering Makayla," Ian bought up out of the blue after deciding what they would eat for lunch that day. They would also see if Ian wanted to film some Lunchtime if he wasn't too tired from therapy. "I didn't want to look like an idiot." Ian shrugged. "Truth is, I can't remember a thing about her."

"Oh?" was all Anthony said and Ian looked over at him, expecting a louder response. Anthony was staring at the ceiling, expression unreadable. They grew quiet while Ian racked his brain for any memories of the girl.

"Yeah, nothing," Ian said after a few moments. "Sorry, man."

He frowned at this. Why couldn't he remember anything about Makayla? How did the two meet? How long have they been together? Were they just dating or were they something serious? These and many other thoughts put a knot in Ian's stomach and something like dread pushed at his throat.

"It's alright," Anthony sat up. "The doc said you're still going to have trouble remembering things."

"But I'd like to think I would remember my best friend's girlfriend, Anthony." Ian made to sit up, only succeeding in resting on his good elbow. He saw Anthony shrug and slump forward.

"Whatever, it's no big deal."

Ian felt bad and it seemed like Anthony was upset that he didn't remember Makayla. "Why don't we ask her to have lunch with us today? Maybe you two can tell me how you guys met?"

Anthony didn't answer him right away. "Nah, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Just leave it, Ian. Alright?" Anthony hopped off the bed. He stopped at the doorway and turned around with an unsteady hand on the door. Anthony stared at him heavily and opened his mouth to say something but closed it and averted his gaze.

Ian fell back into his pillow when Anthony left, clenching his fist and staring at the ceiling in complete loss.

He thought maybe he said something wrong and now Anthony was going to ignore him. But then he heard the sound of running water in the tub and Anthony's voice asking him where his damn razor was.