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Ian wakes up to sunbeams filtering through his curtains. Despite the eight hour sleep, he still wakes up feeling tired. He stares up at his blank ceiling for a few minutes until he hears Anthony's footsteps down the hall.
Kicking his legs over the mattress, Ian walks out in his clothes he wore last night. He makes his way to the kitchen table with his eyes closed.
Anthony notices his fatigue quite obviously. "Good morning, you look absolutely exhausted this seven AM morning."
"That's what happens when we write an entire sketch from start to finish far too late." Ian groans as his back hits the wooden chair. "You're not allowed to talk to me after dinner."
"Hey, you didn't complain yesterday. I don't know why you're complaining now." Anthony asks while pouring himself cereal into his bowl.
Ian looks off into a random corner of the room, mulling his words over. "Yeah, yeah. Guess you can be right sometimes."
"I'm proven right in our sketches most of the time by the way." Anthony corrects. Ian, with his head laying back, makes no move to flick his neck back. "Do you want me to pour you a bowl, you big baby?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Ian replies with a petulant pout. Anthony rolls his eyes. The silent room is disturbed by the sound of hitting the empty bowl.
"I swear to god; I'm not pouring the milk for you." Anthony scoops a spoon into his mouth. He only crunches louder when Ian stares at him. "When you're available to talk again, you think we'll be able to film the sketch tomorrow?"
Ian exaggerates his whining, though, he finally sits properly and fixes his own bowl. "Uh, yeah. We should be able to." He shoves a spoonful straight after saying that.
"So, since we're doing nothing what're we doing today?" Anthony asks and gets a knowing look in return.
His friend points to the television, wiggling his eyebrows. "Boot up the controller for a bit?"
"Hell yeah, but I'm gonna kick your ass." Anthony warns with a faux stern look in his eyes.
Ian scoffs playfully, chomping away on his cereal. "I'll believe it when I see it. You didn't win last time."
The other looks at him in confusion. "How do you remember our last game session? I don't even remember the last time we played."
"It's because you keep loooosing." Ian emphasizes the "o's". He points his spoon at him. "You lost spectacularly last time."
He gets annoyed at that. With an angry gasp, Anthony gulps down his bowl and stands up. "Finish your food, I need to set the record straight."
"You're so lame, god." Ian comments under his breath but obliges anyway. Tipping the bowl back and eating the rest of his food, he playfully cracks his knuckles and trudges over to the living room.
They boot up the console and plop down on the couch. Anthony has his game face on, leaning over which can't be good for his posture. Ian is laid-back and relaxed as the rounds progress.
Despite Ian barely putting any effort in, he keeps winning round after round. The other is clearly offended by this predicament. "When the hell did you get so good?!"
"Practice." Ian clicks his tongue pointedly. "And you suck."
He gets a kick to his shin for that. "I don't care how long it takes; I will beat you by tonight."
Ian smirks, placing a leg up on the couch. "Don't worry, we got time. I've got all the time in the world to watch you lose each game."
True to his word, Anthony takes loss, then another loss, and another… oh, there's another one. Exasperation grows with each minute as time passes. All the meanwhile Ian is completely comfortable, maybe even a bit sleepy.
"Okay, I actually give up now," Anthony throws his controller on the nearby cushions. He heads to the kitchen. "I'll get you next time. If there is a next time— you have to be cheating!"
"Oh, c'mon! I'll let you win this time." Ian follows him, seemingly upset that the other left.
They bicker for a bit before Ian concedes and shuts the game down. "What are we gonna have for dinner? Wanna order takeout?"
"No need to, we have leftovers in the fridge." Ian responds from the couch. "Just throw that in the microwave."
Anthony checks the fridge, and Ian is, surprisingly, correct. "Did your memory upgrade overnight suddenly?"
"Maybe, maybe not." Ian shrugs casually. After the familiar song of their microwave, the two eat together. It's not the most tastiest of foods, but they are far from picky.
"Where do you think we should film the opening scene? I think the park could be a cool place, but I'm not sure if the weather will annoy us." Anthony asks, slightly muffled from his chewing.
"I can go any way. We can figure it out tomorrow." Ian picks at his food, tone neutral.
"You sure? You're usually pickier about the sets." Anthony tilts his head. The other only shakes his head.
"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm tired from kicking your ass." Ian grins smugly until Anthony stomps on his foot. "Sore loser."
Time blurs as they continue the bantering in between shoveling their leftovers into their mouths. Once they're done, they throw the styrofoam containers in the bin along with the utensils.
They run through their nighttime routines to get into bed quickly. Ian, noticeably, doesn't change his clothes however. "Do you not feel grossed out by yourself right now?" Is Anthony's half-judgmental inquiry.
"I've always been gross, Anthony." Ian answers like it's obvious. They both roll their eyes for different reasons.
"Anyway… night, Ian. If you aren't awake by eight in the morning tomorrow, I swear to god, I'm leaving without you." Anthony warns.
"Yeah, sure you will." The two shut their individual doors. Ian ends the day the same way he started it, staring up at his blank ceiling.
Weirdly enough, he doesn't wake up to the same ceiling, but a familiar shade of blue staring back at him. And also hitting him awake. "For the love of god, wake up already."
When Ian comes to, he nearly shrieks and slides away from the… oddly familiar man. The (clearly) older man grabs his shoulders. "Relax already, just come with me."
Ian shoves him away. "No! What the hell is this? I haven't had a dream in… ever! This has never happened!"
"Look, I don't have nearly enough time to explain the complicated bullshitery I did to get here and rescue your ass so follow me—"
"What!? Who said I need rescuing?" Now that Ian has gotten some clarity, their voices are eerily similar. A near carbon copy.
The other stares at him indecorously. "The situation you're in? Is it not obvious?"
"I put myself in this damn situation!" Ian's outburst shocks the… whoever this is, but he's even more surprised by his words. "I… I wished on my birthday that things would return to normal."
The stranger looks off for a moment, then realization comes to him. "In 2017? That's what caused this loop shit?"
"Can you let me go back to said loop shit?" Ian spits back while stepping away. "Whatever you did to help me isn't needed. I don't need help."
"Yes, you do!" Ian flinches as his arm is pulled. "Do you know how many loops you've done? It's been a whole year's worth. You've lived a year without living your life—!"
"I don't want to return to my normal life! I thought I could handle being on my without him, but I can't! I can't do it anymore…" His voice cracks, and his gaze is downcast. The only person listening to his pitiful words runs his hands over his face.
"You'll be alright. You two will reunite again!" Ian perks up and a sparkle returns in his eyes, but it dies down just as fast.
"How long will that take…?" He sees the hesitant expression. That answer is enough. "Put me back. Go back to your own life."
"And let you go back to your endless day in the sun? What exactly do you think is gonna happen—"
"Nothing! That's what I like about it!" Ian yells over him. "I get to see him every day; I get to hang out, eat, play games with him and nothing changes! No matter what I'll do, I get to see him again. It's just us like old times again… don't take that away from me."
He only receives a look that's nothing short of mortification. "You're a lost cause."
Ian doesn't dignify that with a response. "Can I go back to my…" Life? Can he even call what he's living a life anymore? "Just let me go back."
"I can't convince you of anything, can't I?" Ian shakes his head. He doesn't look at the other's face anymore so he hears a deep sigh. "If you're sure… close your eyes for five seconds."
His eyelids lower with little resistance. He loses his senses for five seconds then opens them once more.
Ian wakes up to sunbeams filtering through his curtains.