Okay, one more before the weekend arrives in all its glory :D

This one is a rather short part, but I hope you like it nevertheless? ó.ò

Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews for part 6 and I hope I'll get some to this one? *winks*

Enjoy!

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also on those on his thighs …

It was now that he realized it… It had been quite dark back there and Randy had been much too distracted by the situation… he couldn't remember if he'd seen bruises on John's legs. And ever since they had left John's place, the older man had worn his track pants.

Randy tried to keep his breathing on a normal level as he stood in front of the closed door to his bedroom. Faintly he registered a quiet rattling. The painkillers in the bottle produced that small sound... He swallowed. When had he started to tremble? He swallowed again, hard. He was afraid to go in there, somehow. Scared about what would await him.

Willing the tremble to stop, he closed his hands a little tighter around the bottles, took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes for a brief moment, before he straightened up and opening the door.

The room was still dimmed. Randy found John sitting in the bed, propped up against the headboard and the blanket pulled up to his waist, while his hands rested beside him, fingers fisting in the blanket. The older man's eyes were open, fixed on a random point on the opposite wall and when Randy approached the bed, he turned his head slightly away from him, avoiding his eyes. The small movement reminded Randy of the night before and his chest clenched. Hesitantly he sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the two bottles on the bed stand and he reached out, laying a hand on John's to peel it off the blanket, but the older man pulled his hand away, giving him a painful sting to the heart. Wet trails on John's face told him that he'd been crying, but his face was blank.

"Johnny…" he said quietly, begging.

John remained quiet for a moment or two and when he eventually spoke, his voice was strained: "The doc said it's a projected pain, nothing serious. The cramps result from the bruising in that area. He said there might be slight inner bruising, too, but nothing life-threatening. Can you please go now, I'm tired and I want to sleep."

Randy gasped silently at his friend's last words. Hard, cold words. John was sending him away? His eyes started to burn suspiciously.

"No way. I'm not gonna let you alone again. If you want to sleep, okay, but I'm staying here," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I thought you'd collapse, John. You scared the shit out of me."

"Please… just go…"

The older man's voice was barely audible as he said those words. Silence fell and Randy watched John close his eyes, watched as brows furrowed in grief and lips tightened to a thin line. The younger man wanted to reach out to him, to soothe his pain, but he knew John wouldn't let him and it hurt so much… to see John like that and not be allowed to hold him. After a few moments, Randy said the older man's name, pleading, desperate.

"Please look at me, John," Randy said when John did not react. "Why do you want me to go? What have I done?"

When the blue eyes finally opened again and locked with his, they were wide and pained and so very lost.

"I don't want you to hate me, Randy," John whispered and his voice was laced with the same pain that was written in his eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

Randy reached out again and took hold of John's hand and this time the older man let him.

"Then why do you send me away? I don't get it, John."

"Because if you… if…" John began but then he fell silent, just looking at his friend.

Scooting closer, the younger man leaned in and breathed a kiss on the bruised cheek and then on John's lips.

"I could never hate you," he murmured against his lips. "Never."

Again he placed a kiss on John's lips, running his tongue along the lower lip, a tentative touch that begged for entrance and giving in, because this was Randy, his Randy and because he wanted to believe his words, John parted his lips and met him half-way. It was a slow and gentle kiss that lasted only a few moments. When it ended, Randy pulled away reluctantly, not really wanting to lose the feeling of the older man's lips on his.

"Close your eyes, Johnny," Randy whispered and after a hesitant second John did close his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillow.

Letting go of John's hand, he grabbed the bottle with the ointment, while his other hand started to brush lightly over the older man's chest, caressing the abused skin and the tense muscles with tender touches. Then Randy leaned down and kissed a large bruise on John's right shoulder, before he squeezed a few drops of the ointment on it and spread it gently. Trailing his fingertips a bit further down to the large bruise on John's rib cage, he felt him tense even more.

Again he leaned down, kissed the bruise and whispered: "Relax…"

Just as before, he spread some ointment on it. Like that he went on with every mark on the pale skin and bit by bit he felt the tension ease. When he finally reached the blanket, he stopped there and nuzzled his face carefully against John's belly, taking in the feeling of the soft and warm skin.

And once more the numbing image of John lying on the floor, curled up, beaten flashed up in his mind, the thought that he could be dead by now… and he whispered the older man's name almost desperate against the soft skin, once, twice and he felt a hand settle on his nape in response.

"I love you," Randy said softly yet full of passion, looking up to those beloved baby blues.

Faintly he saw a shadow of an inner battle John seemed to fight there and slowly he crawled back up, resting his forehead against John's.

"So much, Johnny." A kiss to John's lips. "So damn much it hurts."

A small sob fell from the older man's lips and Randy kissed it away.

"And I love you, Ran," John whispered, but he sounded somehow lost as he spoke. "Never forget that I love you..."

A chill ran down the younger man's spine at the last words.

Never forget that I love you.

He'd read them last night. John's last message, its words like a foreboding. Closing his eyes he tried to swallow the lingering and now again growing bad feeling down. The hand on his nape moved to the collar of his shirt to pull him closer for another small kiss, before it fell down onto the blanket and this gesture, somehow weak and resigned, fueled the bad feeling, making it even harder to push it into the background.

"Turn over, Johnny," Randy murmured as he straightened up. "Let me take care of your back."

Reluctantly John did turn over, rolling onto his stomach, but he turned his face away from the younger man. Doing his best not to take this to his heart, Randy focused back on his task to take care of John's bruised back. But although John seemed to welcome every single kiss, every tender caress… the further down Randy moved, the more he felt the ease fade from the body beneath his hands.

Just as his hand slid to the blanket to pull it away, John tensed and he reached back to hold it in place. Randy paused, his hand resting on the older man's lower back. Right beside his hand was a dark and purple bruise peeking out from under the blanket, strangely looking like… finger marks. And then the medic's words echoed in his head and a deep frown grew on his face.

"Thanks," John said quietly and scooted a little away from Randy, still holding on to the blanket. "I… I'm really tired…"

"John, the bruises on your thighs also need a treatment. Come on, I'll hurry and then you can sleep a little."

An almost not perceivable wince ran through the older man… but Randy noticed it and that wince made the frown deepen even more.

"It's okay, there are no bruises, Randy, and…"

"John," Randy interrupted him softly and settled his hand on the one that held the blanket. "I know there are bruises, the doc told me explicit to take care of them."

With that he tried to pull the blanket out of John's grip, but the older man's fingers tightened on the fabric. With a silent sigh Randy put the bottle aside and began to peel John's hand off, but John shied away and wanted to bring even more space between them, but this time Randy held him back.

"No," John whispered panicked and his breathing started to become fast and shallow. "No, let go!"

"Johnny, calm down," the younger man soothed and took his hands away immediately, shocked about the fierce reaction. "Ssh, hey, it's okay, everything's okay… calm down…"

Still clutching the blanket in a death-grip, John started to tremble and the broad back heaved visibly as he tried to take deep breaths.

"Please, don't do that," he panted as if something was choking him. "Please, just don't…"

Again a chill ran down the younger man's spine but he stretched out a hand nevertheless cautiously settling his hand on John's. A violent wince was the answer to it, but John's never let go of the fabric. In an attempt to soothe him, Randy let his thumb brush over the back of John's hand, but it was a vain attempt. He felt how the older man wanted to pull his hand away, yet he didn't because it would have meant to let go of the blanket.

"Don't you trust me, Johnny?"

"You know… that I trust you, Randy," For a few heartbeats John turned his head towards Randy, just enough to lock gazes with him and there was a shadow casting over those blue eyes. "But this has nothing to do with trust…"

Yet his fingers unclenched, releasing the fabric. Turning his face away from the younger man, he drew his arm up and buried his face against it.

Hesitantly Randy pulled the blanket away, revealing John's legs and whatever he tried so hard to hide. His eyes roamed the older man's thighs as he did so and a heartbeat later he froze. The blanket slipped out of his fingers. His eyes stayed fixed on the bruises on the pale skin, peeking out from under the boxers. Slowly, so very slowly he reached out and pushed the fabric a bit further up and at the touch he felt John wince and tense even more.

Then Randy's hand stilled as his world shattered.

Never forget that I love you.

He kept staring at the marks… black and purple marks, seeing where they were… those bruises, on the inside of John's thighs leading up to... His mind refused to accept the image, mind and body numbing under the message it was carrying.

"No…" he breathed. "No…"

I… never slept with him…

"Johnny?"

Randy's voice cracked as he said the name like a question… like a plea, begging to tell him that he was wrong. But John didn't… he didn't…

For a long moment John remained silent, before he spoke quietly: "I told you that there's nothing left to love."

John's voice was ridiculously calm as he said those words. Almost like he'd given himself up. Bending forward, Randy wrapped an arm around his stomach and tried to fight back the urge to throw up as a sudden sickness rose.

Please God… please let this be a bad dream… I did this to him… it's my fault…

A small wheezing sound escaped his throat.

"It's my fault… oh God… I'm so sorry… so sorry…" Randy choked and he began to rock slightly back and forth as he closed his eyes against the searing guilt that filled him. "I'm so sorry…"

He repeated those words over and over again, not daring to look at John… And he didn't realize that John sat up after another moment, pulling the blanket around his waist to hide the signs of what had happened the day before.

"Randy…?" John whispered his name like a question. "Randy, listen… What happened is not your fault. You hear me?"

John forced the words over his lips, but Randy did not react to them.

"Look at me, Randy," John whispered again, moving a little closer to him, though he dared not to touch him.

The grey eyes flew open as Randy felt the mattress dip a bit and he stared at John wide-eyed, finding no blame there, no hate but confusion, fear.

"It's not your fault, Randy. Don't ever think that…"

Randy shook his head slightly no in disbelief as John repeated his words.

"How can you say that? Nothing of this would have happened to you if I… if… I loved you all the time Johnny and all of this happened because I… I let you down. I pushed you away… Oh God, please forgive me…"

John's fingers fisted in the blanket, digging into the thick fabric as if he tried to anchor, brace himself against the memories that flashed up, of their encounter in the shower that was still so vivid when he thought of it, of the closeness they'd shared… of the disappointment and the hurt he'd felt when Randy had pushed him away… of the hope he'd harbored that his friend would change his mind… of the loneliness. It all added to what George had done to him and maybe there was a bit of truth lying in Randy's words… but what had happened had not been his fault.

"George was my decision. And it was my decision not to break up with him after the first time he beat me up." John's voice was shaky, somehow lost as he spoke. "Nothing that happened between me and George is your fault. Don't blame yourself. You are the reason I'm still here."

John lifted a hand to reach out to him, but before he touched the younger man, a scared expression flashed in his eyes and he drew his hand back, faltering, letting it fall to his side. And that very second Randy became aware of the fact that John tried to comfort him when it should have been the other way around, tried to make him feel better, even after what George had done to him. And that John was scared to touch him… This all was so wrong… Again, like so often before was letting him down in a moment John needed him to be there like never before.

"I should be the one being there for you… John, I… I'm so sorry… I let you down again…" he whispered and holding out a hand towards John he hoped the older man would take it. "Please. I love you, Johnny."

But John didn't. His eyes flicked to Randy's hand and back to the grey eyes, before they swept to his own hand that was still clutching the blanket.

"How can you want me to touch you after… it…?" John whispered hollow. "How can you still love me? Randy, I… I'm…"

And while John spoke, Randy reached out, taking John's hands in his own and the tears that burned in his eyes fell, rolling down his cheeks. Closing his eyes again, he placed John's hands on his now tearstained cheeks, holding them there even when he felt the older man pull away slightly, holding them until he felt John run his thumbs so very hesitantly over his cheeks.

Letting his hands brush from John's hands along his arms to his shoulders, he slowly opened his eyes again and met the beloved baby blues, which looked at him filled with pain, so much pain, yet there was hope and love and he pulled John against his chest, holding him in a tight embrace.

"Don't say that," Randy said as he turned his face towards John's, placing a feather light kiss on his temple. "I love you. All of you and nothing's gonna change that. Not even… that. You hear me?"

The dam cracked… and broke. And with it, John broke down. Sagging against Randy, into his arms, John buried his face against the younger man's shoulder and with a wailing cry he began to sob. The broad arms wrapped around Randy's waist almost painfully as he tried to get even closer to him.

"I love you, John-John… I love you."

Randy murmured those words over and over again, allowing his own tears to fall as he started to rock back and forth slightly. Holding him close all he wished was that he could make the past undone somehow… somehow