Okay, so this is part 3. One more to come!
Enjoy!
It had been eight weeks. Eight bloody weeks without John. First Randy had been on tour, then their schedules had been so goddamn different and claiming that they didn't get a chance to spend some time together. No time for calls, not even for a short one… only a message here or there.
The mere memory of John's voice had sent warm shivers down his spine. Gods, how he'd wanted to hear it again…
Eight weeks like a cold withdrawal. He'd been showing the first mental symptoms already after two weeks. Nervousness. Restlessness. His thoughts revolving around John and even if he'd managed to focus them on something else, within the shortest time they had been reverting back to John. He'd felt hollow because he was missing. It had almost felt like bordering on a depression. And all the time he'd wondered how John felt? If he missed him, too?
Well… now he knew that John had missed him most likely not even remotely as much as he had missed John.
Why? Oh, now that had truly been a surprise. Not only the reason itself had been the surprise but also circumstances. In an attempt to surprise John he drove to his place, hoping that he was up to hanging out a bit and just as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway he almost ran into… a girl. He froze while said girl first yelped about his unexpected presence, followed by a fleeting expression of recognition and a hearty hello. She actually hugged him.
He did not hug her back.
Shortly after John came in, alarmed by her yelp and when he saw Randy he had been all hugs and good to see you, there had even been a dimpled smile, yet in his eyes… Randy couldn't put his fingers on what kind of emotion it had been… but it wasn't a reassuring one. The unease it caused in him had robbed him off the good feelings John's hugs, voice and closeness always bestowed him, leaving him as hollow as he'd been those eight weeks. And now they were sitting in the living room and she was talking about… something. Whatever. Randy's busy mind faded her voice out and looking at her was like watching a silent movie.
Cassandra. Cassi. Placing his glass to his lips he drowned half of the water in it, but it failed to wash the bad taste on his tongue away her name left there, just like all those names before. His eyes flicked over to John, finding him gazing at her in silent, rapt attention. It sickened Randy to see him looking at that woman this way. After what might have been only a handful of minutes but sure enough had felt like a little eternity she excused herself to the bathroom.
A broad smile spread over the older man's face as he asked: "Now? What do you think?"
The smile Randy managed was a bit restrained.
"Well, she is nice to look at," he replied slowly.
She in fact looked like a female version of himself and John's words how the love of his life should be echoed on his ears.
Pretty much like you with boobs.
Fuck, shot through Randy's mind because fuck, she was at least an optical copy of him… what if she was a female Randy? And fuck, because John's expression suddenly changed to the one he always pulled up when he realized that there was something on Randy's mind… or heart. His chest tightened.
"Okay Ran, spill it. What goes on in your pretty head?"
Fiddling with his glass Randy pursed his lips and looked down to his feet.
"Since when?" he asked then hushed, without looking back up.
There was a rustling, quiet steps and then John sat down beside him close enough that their shoulders bumped.
"Seven weeks. I met her at the gym. Reminded me of you, guess that's why I noticed her in the first place. Funny, huh?" the blond man explained with a soft laughter in his voice.
Yeah, totally funny, Randy thought and then it sunk in.
Seven weeks. Seven fucking weeks! His heart lurched and heart plummeted to his belly. His eyes snapped to John's, the glass almost dropped from his hands and… Seven weeks… meant that… John was serious about this…
"What?" he breathed, a mixture of shock, disappointment and panic hitting him unprepared.
John saw it and the happy expression on his face dimmed visibly before he said a tad surprised: "Thought you would be happy for me?"
No, I'm not. I'm fucking not because I love you, goddammit!
"And I thought you would tell me something like that sooner," Randy muttered, accusation tingeing his words.
There was guilt in those blue eyes, he noticed. John shifted and nudged Randy with his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I, uhm… I just wanted to be sure about it before I tell anyone."
"Oh, so I'm anyone, Cena?"
Randy couldn't help the hurt tone in his voice. A hand settled on his knee, squeezing it lightly and there it was again, the warm tingling under the touch.
"Don't be silly, Ran. I wanted to tell you about her, but first I had to be sure and really, via short message?" John apologized and the happy expression returned to his face. "She could be the one. Really, I think she could be the one…"
And wasn't this irony of fate? How good were the chances that John found a girl that looked like him, maybe even was like him, got her interested and made it a serious thing? Obviously too good and now he had again to be scared of losing the man he loved and in addition to a female copy of him.
"Do you love her?"
A croak. His voice was a croak and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, looked away and blinked against the stinging in his eyes but it was too late, John had noticed it and how could he not?
"What's wrong, Randy?"
Words full of worry, warmth. So John.
I love you.
"Do you love her?" he repeated and John gazed up to the door, maybe to make sure Cassi wasn't around.
"Maybe… yeah. But I guess it is a bit rash to speak of love after seven weeks. Randy… what…?"
His heart began to run, pounding hard against his chest as it tightened even more, making it hard to breathe. Settling his hand on John's which was still on his knee he stopped his friend with a slight shake of his head. He couldn't let this happen, had to stop it before it was too late…
Slipping his fingers between John's he held onto his hand firmly, maybe to keep him from running away, maybe too keep him from punching him he whispered: "John, I… I… lov…"
The unnamed emotion was back in those baby blues and there was confusion and uncertainty as he gazed at Randy as he spoke and Randy wanted to say it, the word already on the tip of his tongue as light steps in the hallway made John pull his hand away, made the word die in Randy's throat.
"Babe? Could you get the barbeque from the garage? I thought it would be nice if Randy stayed for dinner?" she suggested as she stepped in the same moment John jumped up.
"Yeah, sure," the older man uttered and left the room without a glance back.
With a baffled expression she watched him leave, then looked over to Randy who placed the glass on the coffee table and got up. No way would he stay for dinner and watch this painful show of happiness. And the way John had just fled from the room told him that it probably would be better not to be here when he came back.
"You guys okay?" she asked, approaching Randy as he made his way to the front door. "Hey, wait, where are you going? Don't you want to stay for dinner?"
Her hand on his arm stopped him and he glanced down at it and it was now that he noticed that she had changed her clothes, the long-arm shirt she'd worn replaced by a tank. Her arms were heavily inked, just like his own. Even that was similar. He met her questioning stare, narrowing his eyes. And something in him… snapped.
"He doesn't belong to you," he hissed, shaking her hand off.
He regretted the words the very second they were out in the open because he watched her raise an eyebrow as she shifted her stance, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him the same way he used to glare at people. That moment he knew she wouldn't keep this to herself.
And because it was already too late he added: "You can't have him."
Turning around without giving her a chance to reply even one word he left and made the way to his car in a few quick strides. From the corner of his eyes he saw John step out of the house as he pulled out of the driveway, but he didn't stop and on his way home his cell rang once, then beeped three times, the caller-ID always showing John, but he ignore it. And when he came home he locked the front-door with the key and the door latch, ran to his room and locked that door, too. Just in case…
For an hour he sat frozen on his bed in his dark room, listening, waiting for the tiniest sound that John might have followed him. But all the time silence reigned. Maybe he should have been relieved about it but after the hour was over his mind stopped focusing on possible signs that he wasn't alone here and returned to what had happened at John's place.
Fuck. Fucking shit.
Again he'd wanted to tell John the truth and again he was interrupted but this time… it had been different somehow and he wondered if John knew…? But no matter if or if not, John's reaction hadn't been good. So not good. And Cassandra? What if she had told John about it straightaway?
What if that was it? What if John broke their friendship off? Randy pulled his knees up, cradled his head in his hands and hid his face against his knees.
"No…" he breathed shakily and it was now that he realized… he was trembling. "Oh god, no…"
In the end it was his own fault. Everything. He'd taken John for granted, thought that no matter what happened the older man would be there, have his back and forgive. He had been so arrogant to think their friendship was a forever-thing. And a naïve part of him had really thought that if he told John the truth, he would accept it… maybe even… more. Instead he had ruined it, the best friendship of his whole life. He'd lost the one person in his life who counted. The trembling increased, his breath hitched. A tear fell. And a second.
Minutes flew by. He cried. Silently, alone. And when his cell beeped for the fourth time since he had left John's place, the sound ripping through the darkness, he flinched hard. For a long moment he didn't move until he dared to face up to the older man's messages…
- Hey, what's wrong? -
Wrong? I love you, John, that's what's wrong… he thought bitterly and an unsteady breath escaped his quivering lips as he opened the next message.
- I don't know what your problem is, so would you please enlighten me? -
Well, I thought you knew by know… was his next bitter thought, yet how could he be sure that John didn't know?
What if he only wrote this for appearances?
- Randy, what the hell? Answer your fucking phone or at least send a message. -
And this now? Did it mean John finally understood?
- We need to talk. -
His breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped. The cell was being flipped shut and tossed into an obscure corner of the room, hitting the floor with an unhealthy clattering while Randy slipped under the blanket, pulling it over his head to hide away from everything. Grey eyes closed but the tears escaped them nevertheless and in a vain attempt to find shelter in sleep he tried to blank his mind to fall…
The night seemed endless while he waited for the merciful blackness of a dreamless sleep that never came. Yet it went by much too fast, the moment when he had to face John looming closer and closer…
x
The door to his locker room closed noisily behind him as he threw it close with a little more force than necessary. He all but ran to his bag, grabbing towel and shower gel, all hasty movements and panicked glances. His match was over and the job done for this night and all he wanted was to get away from here before John would get a chance to catch him. He wanted to be out of here before John was through with his match. There wasn't much time left.
Ever since he'd arrived at the company he somehow succeeded in avoiding John. Well, until the moment he stepped into the backstage area after his match, finding him waiting there for his own match to begin. The look the older man had given him had sent a cold shiver down his spine. Randy knew that look. It never meant good things to come and he was grateful for the business around them backstage. Otherwise John wouldn't have let him get away that moment.
It shouldn't be like this. Being scared of your best friend. The one precious being you can trust, you're in love with. But he was. Fucking terrified. Because of John's reaction. Because John was… angry? Disappointed? Disgusted? Because he wanted answers Randy refused to give… and maybe even couldn't give? Probably all of it.
Randy knew that running and hiding wasn't a solution, that sooner or later he would have to explain himself to John. But he didn't want that sooner or later to be now.
Running back from the shower to the locker he threw his stuff into his bag, toweled himself off in record time and jumped into his clothes. Silently he cursed at Hunter. The man had proved the worst timing ever by stopping him on his way to the locker room to tell him unimportant things and thus stealing his precious and few time to get away from here as soon as even possible. Throwing his bag over his shoulder he went for the door in big and fast strides. Ripping the door open he froze… the world coming to an halt...
A big hand pushed him back into the room with enough force to make him stumble. And his heart … it stumbled, too.
Backing off as John stepped in, he hoped that this was only a bad dream. John was furious, the blue eyes inflamed with anger and it scared the shit out of Randy, because in all the time of their friendship he had never, not even for a second, looked at him like that. The door was slammed shut hard enough to make the locker behind him rattle, making him halt in his escape backwards. There wasn't another way out of here anyways. The bag dropped from his shoulder and he clenched his fists, trying to stop the trembling.
The room was quiet but for John's harsh breathing and then he closed his eyes and dipped his head back, taking a deep breath. When he looked back to Randy his eyes were guarded and the anger in them dimmed, the shadow casting over them making the well-known face seem alien.
And all Randy wanted was to vanish into thin air.
"Why?"
The older man's voice was low and hurt, the single word so hollow that Randy felt the hair on his neck rise. His mind raced. Did John mean those words he'd said to Cassandra or… did he mean… the other thing…? So he just kept quiet, staring at him with big and uncertain eyes as he waited for the older man tell him to go to hell.
"Spill it, Orton! Why? What gives you the right to tell Cassi that she can't have me?" John spat, the broad shoulders tensing as he took a step forwards. "What kind of a friend are you to talk her into dumping me?!"
So this was about Cassandra. It didn't make it any better though. Randy's heart tripped painfully, his chest clenching once more and he tried hard to remember how to breathe. He had no answer to that. At least not an answer which wouldn't make it even worse.
"Open your goddamn mouth, Orton!"
"I'm sorry…" was the only thing Randy managed to say as he finally made his voice work.
"Oh, oh, he's sorry!" the blond man exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Sure, I should have known that you're sorry! You always are! But this time being sorry isn't enough, Randy! I finally found a girl that could be the one and you…! Oh god…!"
"I am, John. I am goddamn sorry but I can't make things undone, as much as I want to."
Randy's shoulders slumped a bit as he spoke, because to the dimmed anger in John's eyes added a very vivid expression of hurt and heavy disappointment.
"You know what? I need to breathe, Orton, so stay away from me until you've come to your senses, you asshole," John said coldly, about to leave and he'd almost reached the door when Randy's voice stopped him.
"Value pack, huh? No John without Randy? Best friends?" Randy hissed in helpless disappointment. "Your words, John! What about that, huh? Tell me!"
"You dare ask me that, Orton?" John growled, spinning around. "Out of all people you? Would a best friend try to destroy your relationship?!"
With a few quick steps he was right in front of the younger man, grabbing him by the collar.
"I never wanted to destroy your relationship," Randy said, his voice a mere whisper that should guard the lie that it was. "I just was afraid that I would lose my best friend. I didn't think that moment… I'm sorry..."
This time it wasn't a lie. Yet it was.
"Fuck you, Orton!" the older man roared, giving him a hard shove. "You overstepped the lines this time!"
Stepping back John rubbed his hands through his face, barking a single, wintry laughter.
"I'm done with this, Randy," he muttered then, the hurt achingly audible in the low voice as he turned away from him.
I love you!
His heart screamed as he watched John leave. His mind cried the words but he pressed his lips together tightly. Words that were meant to warm, to bring happiness. Words that now would make everything only worse.
John didn't look back as he stepped into the corridor and with the sound of the closing door Randy felt his body go numb. He sat down on the bench, bracing his elbows on his knees and with a breathless sob he buried his face in his hands.
Quietness returned, weighing down heavily on him, crushing, choking. It had always been the two of them, a friendship strong enough to overcome any bullshit. A friendship that had never been supposed to end like this…
But John had left… and he had taken it with him…