I-less-olivia

I kept thinking about why Damon didn't exactly get along with Wolfgang because it seems obvious that he doesn't like him due to Wolfgang's somewhat pompous attitude towards the idea of Ultimates. Wolfgang contrasts Damon's view of Ultimates in that Wolfgang believes all talents are equally valuable to society, and Damon doesn't.

Wolfgang says he doesn't believe anyone there was capable of murdering their "friends" and that the killing game wouldn't even kick off because he believed in the inherent goodness of Ultimates as a whole.

Damon disagreed with this notion and believed everyone had the capacity for violence regardless of their Ultimate status or not. He also disagreed with the idea that all talents are equally valuable to society and that some are more frivolous in nature than others.

Wolfgang believed in a lot of "hopeful" ideals however, I don't think he was telling the truth when he said these things. His actions spoke louder than all of those inspiring speeches he gave to the rest of the class.

In fact, I think Wolfgang agreed with everything Damon said, but he didn't want to admit it for some reason. Wolfgang said he believed in a fair trial and letting people explain themselves, but when Eva claimed she was the Ultimate Liar he immediately resorted to turning the others against her by casting suspicion on her.

He said he believed that all talents are equal in value, but when Eva was revealed to be the Ultimate Mathlete, he didn't stop any of the others from mocking Eva over it. (I will also point out that while as hilarious as Cassidy's Bargain Bin joke is at Damon's expense, he doesn't tell her off for making said joke at all either.)

And Wolfgang said he didn't believe anyone there would kill anyone, but he was constantly taking "precautions" for the Killing Game. "Just in case" someone decided to do something. He agreed with Desmond's idea of bunking together, he at first doesn't want to investigate the pharmacy but decided it's a good idea to let everyone know what's inside anyways, and when he got the mysterious letter telling him to meet in the boiler room he brought a knife with him from the kitchen "for protection" supposedly.

Wolfgang says a lot of things that he clearly doesn't believe, him and Damon are exactly alike. But the difference is that Damon is honest in how he feels about the Killing Game and Wolfgang is not.

Where his hypocrisy comes in is how he judges Damon for his honesty, and makes it seem like he too isn't distrustful of others during the game. And I think the reason for why Damon specifically doesn't like Wolfgang is not just because he is a hypocrite but because he's purposeful about his hypocrisy. He isn't like the rest of the class in his hypocrisy in that he's not doing it by accident, he's doing it on purpose because it keeps him in control of the group.

And the funny thing about it is that it's kind of Damon's fault that the others adopted Wolfgang as their defacto leader. During the mock class trial, Damon was the one who defended Wolfgang's integrity and instinct as a lawyer to get the others to continue to believe in him so they could solve the murder.

But Damon didn't defend Wolfgang because he had some belief in the inherent goodness of Ultimates. He did it because Damon believed Wolfgang's *talent* as a lawyer is proof enough that he's well versed in situations like this. It wasn't about Wolfgang as a person, but his ability as a lawyer. And I think this is why when Damon just says what he thinks Wolfgang is confused by it because he thought Damon was like the rest of the class, hopeful and naive.

And obviously, later on Wolfgang states that he sees people, Ultimates, as more than just their talent. But I don't believe him. I think from the way he treated both Eva and Damon that he silently agreed on the idea of some talents being lesser than others. And he just puts himself in the position of not believing in what Damon says because it's unpopular with the rest of the class.

Wolfgang can subtly take all of the credit for solving Cara's murder, while Damon gets no recognition and because Damon has an unpopular opinion about Ultimates and Talents and the Killing Game, Wolfgang can become their leader very easily (which is exactly what happened)

But he doesn't truly believe in any of it, he's a biased person through and through who has his own selfish goals, and egotistical opinions just like Damon. I think he just didn't come out and be honest because being honest would've shafted him with the likes of Eva and Damon.

Wolfgang is leading them all with blind optimism, when he himself isn't that optimistic. I think this is why his Blackmail letter mentioned him having a Wolfish mind as well, because he is essentially a wolf in sheep's clothing leading a herd of sheep to their potential doom. Keeping them in the dark on purpose so he can continue to be seen as the leader and beacon of hope.

And if you think "Wolfgang wouldn't be that self centered to do this" I think he is, purely because of how he behaved during his death. Diana mentioned him saying things about being seen as great, trying to prove himself to someone, and not being able to measure up to another person.

I think Wolfgang is the exact type of person who would feed on other people's admiration in a situation like this. "It doesn't matter if they believe in me for a foolish and naive reason, because they believe in *me*. And as long as they have their faith in *me*, nothing else about this situation matters. Anyone who doesn't put their faith behind my ability to lead is irrelevant and isn't a part of the group."

August, 2017.

Anthony wakes up slowly.

His eyes feel heavy, like they’re glued shut, and he has to do his best to pry them open. Blinking blearily, he finds himself splayed out over his desk, pencil still in hand and cheeks stained with tears. He can’t help but feel incredibly pathetic as he presses his palms to the desk, unsticking his cheek from the wood to sit up straight.

He glares down at the entry he wrote for a moment before slamming the journal shut. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t help to write all of that out, but the last thing he needed was anyone seeing it, even though he’s alone in his apartment now. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s near 4 in the morning. He wants to just forget. He wants to get in bed and not move for a few days, but he knows he has to start planning what to do next. He’s so angry he feels his chest burn.

Suddenly, in the corner of his bedroom, a blue, glowing portal rips through the air, buzzing softly. A man falls out of it, ungracefully stumbling on his landing. The portal closes. The man looks up. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all the same, but when Anthony meets his eyes, he just knows.

His heart stops. He can’t breathe. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, so the man speaks first, seemingly also breathless.

“Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Ian runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He glances toward Anthony and his eyes soften. “Hey, don’t forget to breathe. You’re okay.”

Anthony sucks in breath, not because he was told to, but because he needs to. He blows it out forcefully, getting to his feet on shaky knees. Logically, he knows this isn’t really Ian. At least, it isn’t his Ian. He looks older, more mellow. Happier.

“What…What’s going on?” His own voice is the complete opposite of that, devoid of life, notes of fear and anger and sadness all rolled into one.

Ian’s eyes, soft and blue and frustratingly kind behind silver glasses, make Anthony want to throw something. Who even is this? The last time he’d looked at Ian, there had been nothing behind his eyes. Nothing warm, nothing kind, nothing to indicate that the boy he’d become friends with all those years ago was still there. Here, now, he gets some semblance of it. It makes his knees shake, and he has to hold onto the back of his chair for support.

“I’m sorry, Anthony. I can’t tell you. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

Anthony scoffs and looks away. His fear and confusion over the situation is immediately overtaken by anger. “Of course you can’t. Are you here to tell me I made a mistake? That I shouldn’t have left?” He curls his hands into fists, trying to hide the way that they’re shaking. “I don’t want to see you. Why are you here?”

A part of him regrets saying it as he sees Ian’s expression change to something he’s never seen before. It looks like a mix of hurt and understanding. He exhales and takes a slow step forward. “No. You made the right decision. You had to leave.” Ian’s gaze flicks toward the desk where the journal sits. Something like recognition swirls in his eyes for just a moment, not long enough for Anthony to think about it too hard. “I guess I’m here to tell you that…everything’s gonna be okay someday.”

Anthony’s chest heaves as he stares at the slightly older version of his childhood friend. For a moment, he feels like he’s going to throw up. This isn’t right. This isn’t Ian. It can’t be. If it was, then he wouldn’t have left at all.

“What…year are you from?” Anthony whispers, feeling faint.

Ian smiles sadly. “I can’t tell you.”

Not even realizing that the tears had started until one of them plops on the floor beneath him, Anthony wipes his cheek hastily, expecting some rude remark. Ian reaches forward, gently pulling him into a hug, light enough that he could pull away if needed. Anthony’s heart stops, standing completely rigid in place, his exhausted brain slowly trying to process what the hell is happening.

Ian speaks softly. “I know it sucks right now. It’s gonna suck for a while, but it’s gonna be okay, Anthony. I promise.”

He’s standing in the middle of his bedroom in the small hours of the morning, being hugged by the man that has been the reason for all of his pent up anger, and all he can do is break down. He leans into Ian, not bothering to hold back the tears, and holds on tight. Ian’s grip is tighter, practically holding him upright. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of cedarwood, and clutches onto his words. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

The next thing he knows, he opens his eyes to morning sunlight streaming in through his windows. He’s laying in bed, the blankets pulled over him, and everything is as it should be.

Anthony rubs his eyes, noticing how swollen they feel. “What a weird dream,” he mumbles, almost certain he can still smell the cologne from before.

What hurts the most is when he sits up, he finds himself looking for Ian again.

***

November, 2018.

Ian’s ears are ringing.

He sits on his couch in complete silence, mindlessly sipping at a drink. Having returned home from the party thrown to make them feel better about not knowing the future of Smosh and themselves, Ian immediately went to his cabinets to pour himself a drink, despite already being relatively tipsy.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting here. It was dark when he got home, and it’s dark now. Staring at a crack on the wall that looks relatively like a spider is how he’s been spending the last hour, at least. Probably longer. His mind is devoid of thought, with just a pleasant buzz accompanying him in the back of his head. Staring at the wall keeps him from thinking. He prefers it this way.

Suddenly, the ringing in his ears grows louder. As if awakening from a trance, Ian blinks and pulls his gaze away from the crack in the wall, looking around the room. It continues to grow louder, so much so that it almost hurts as his bookcase in the corner begins to shake.

He hadn’t been expecting an earthquake tonight, but he most definitely hadn’t been expecting to see a giant blue portal sizzle through the air with a man falling through it. No sooner had the man hit the ground did the portal disappear, leaving him breathing hard on all fours.

Ian drops his glass on the floor.

As it shatters, the man scrambles to his feet, and wide brown eyes fill with recognition and guilt. He seems to find his voice first as he gives the other a once-over. “Ian?”

That voice makes Ian’s chest tighten. He hasn’t heard it in over a year, maybe longer. This Anthony looks different. His hair is a little shorter, still curly, and Ian wonders if, in the dark living room, he’s imagining the dark lines that snake from Anthony’s hands all the way up his arms. He’s a little older, Ian thinks.

He quickly stands up, immediately greeted by vertigo, finding that he’s perhaps a bit more buzzed than he had meant to be. But he’s not imagining this. Anthony is in his living room, but there’s something different there. It isn’t his Anthony. His Anthony probably hates him. He hasn’t reached out in a while. He wonders what he’ll think about Defy collapsing.

Realizing they’ve just been staring at each other and he hasn’t said anything, Ian clears his throat. “Why are you here?” His words slur a little. He tries to play it off, but he notices that slight furrow to Anthony’s brow.

“I don’t know,” Anthony answers honestly, looking Ian up and down with a concern that almost makes him lose his footing. Where did that come from? The few times they’ve tried to catch up, it’s been awkward, like they were strangers. This doesn’t make sense. “Are you okay?”

Ian huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you care?” He feels guilty the moment the words leave his mouth. Anthony nods solemnly, perhaps knowing where he’s coming from, and opens his mouth to respond, but something catches his eye. Right on the coffee table, Ian had placed some of the props he’d stolen from the office, with the Easy Step on the floor beneath it. He’d just thrown them all there when he’d gotten home, not bothered to find a place for them yet.

Anthony glances toward the shattered glass on the floor, then looks back up. “You just got an email from Defy, right?”

Breath leaves Ian’s body in a whoosh. He can’t answer besides a nod. The question makes his eyes prick, but he quickly blinks it away, unable to ask how on Earth Anthony knows this.

Carefully, Anthony steps forward, trying not to step on any of the glass. He reaches out to touch Ian’s shoulder. “You don’t look so good, dude, maybe you should -”

“No! No, this is wrong.” Ian shrugs him off, taking a shaky step back, his heart racing. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your problem. I really can’t take any more bad news, Anthony. You need to go.”

That concern he’d seen before returned to Anthony’s expression then, and Ian remembers, just for a moment, that worry on Anthony’s face whenever Ian would get sick in high school, whenever he forgot to eat, whenever he didn’t take care of himself. It’s almost like nothing has changed until reality crashes down around him again.

“You’re right. It isn’t my problem,” Anthony says softly, not unkindly, “but I’m here anyway.” He takes another slow step forward, but Ian doesn’t move. He continues. “I don’t have any bad news, Ian. I’m just here to listen. Okay?”

Ian’s thoughts jumble together as he tries to make sense of it. He can’t. When did they ever spend time just listening to each other? He can’t remember.

Before he knows it, Anthony’s guiding him to the couch, and they both sit down together. He looks at him, his eyes so full of concern and kindness that it almost makes Ian want to faint. “Tell me everything.”

Perhaps, if he were sober, he’d brush it off, push Anthony out the door and tell him to continue with his own life. Perhaps, if he were sober, he’d laugh at the idea and tell Anthony everything was gonna be fine, and he’d make it through just like he always did.

But he isn’t sober. So he opens his mouth and talks.

He talks about it all. He talks about how it felt opening that email, he talks about how it felt breaking the news to everyone, he talks about this crushing weight of all of his employees' livelihoods resting on his shoulders, he talks about the fear of losing the thing that they created together. He talks until his throat is dry, and he isn’t even sure how coherent he is. But no matter what, Anthony stays by his side, nodding, listening, interjecting every now and then.

A silence falls between them. Anthony hesitates. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you,” he says softly. Caught off guard, Ian furrows his brow. In the moonlight streaming through the window, he can tell this Anthony is definitely a little older than him. He wonders how much older. Shrugging, Ian looks away. Anthony continues. “I want you to know that everything’s gonna work itself out. It’ll be really hard for a while, but it’ll be okay.”

Ian looks up again, noticing his vision is slightly blurred. He can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol or something else. “How do you know?”

“I’m from the future.” Anthony cracks a small smile and Ian scoffs, despite knowing it must be true.

Birds begin chirping outside, and Ian knows the sun will be rising soon. He has a lot to do tomorrow, to figure out where to go from here. He makes peace with the fact that he won’t be sleeping tonight. Surprisingly, he feels better than he did an hour ago. He supposes Anthony just has that effect on him.

He closes his eyes, trying to savor whatever familiarity he has left. He isn’t sure how much time passes until he feels gentle hands beneath him, moving him to lay out on the couch. He squints, trying to stay awake, trying to take in Anthony again, knowing full well he won’t be here later.

“What year are you from?” Ian mumbles. Anthony chuckles softly as he gently places a blanket over him. Ian hadn’t realized how much he had missed that sound.

“It’s a surprise,” Anthony whispers. “Now get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Ian’s eyes fall closed again, his body feeling heavy. “Thanks…” He isn’t sure if he manages to say it, or if he just thinks it.

Anthony’s voice sounds far away, but he’s pretty sure he can hear a faint, “I love you, buddy,” as he drifts off.