Mark tossed and turned around rapidly in his bed, groaning and limbs flinging around.

"So what did the doctor say?" Mark's eyes darted to his brother and back to his parents. A sense of foreboding had filled within him, making his nerves on edge and a twinge of nausea that was almost crippling.

His mom burst into tears, burying her face in his dad's shoulder. His dad whispered into her ear, rubbing a hand soothingly on her back. And as for Randy, he stared ahead, frozen and pale.

"What did the doctor say?" Mark repeated, more sternly this time.

He was not prepared for what was to come.

"Randy has cancer."

/

Randy had to visit the hospital for treatment. Mark didn't catch the name of it, but he didn't really want to know. He completely shut out any discussion about cancer and would either physically remove himself or, as he'd learn to do, tune it out.

He couldn't take listening to it. And that's all everyone seemed to be talking about. Didn't they understand how it was getting to him? He tried not to think about it. He tried being positive. Randy would get better. He had to. He just needed to get his treatment for now and then he'd be alright.
He had to be.

He had to be...

/

Randy was getting sicker.

He'd long lost his hair. Mark hadn't seen his older brother cry in years and even back then it was more of a sniffle. Now, he could vividly recall seeing tears pour down Randy's cheeks when chunks of his hair fell out, leaving a few bald spots in their place. Their mom gently suggested she or their dad shave the rest off.

So that's what they did.

Then came the weight loss. Randy was naturally skinny but this was pushing it. He had no real appetite most of the time anymore. If he did eat, it was a couple of bites before quietly saying he was full. He was like a skeleton When their parents had helped Randy with getting dressed, Mark had seen his ribs easily. It was a startling sight. One he wouldn't easily forget.

He hardly did anything either. He stayed in bed most of the time, having little to no energy to do much of anything. Getting up to use the bathroom was a chore. Mark and Brad had to help him. They would take things to him and do whatever he wanted them to do-within reason.

It left an uneasy feeling with Mark at how appreciative Randy was. He didn't crack any jokes or say anything sarcastic. Just a weak little smile.

What haunted Mark the most was his eyes. His whole face was pale, except for the bags underneath of his eyes that stood out against the porcelain skin.

He shuddered.

/

"Randy's dying, I'm afraid."

The doctor's words made the room still. Mark felt faint. Brad was stunned. Their mom nearly collapsed and his dad looked like he was going to throw up.

The doctor continued. "Treatment isn't working. Randy's cancer has advanced. It's metastasized to other vital organs."

"So there's nothing we can do?" his mom's lip wobbled.

The doctor shook his head. My colleagues and I have reviewed our options in search of an answer. I'm afraid we have none. Randy is nearly out of time. We can either admit him to the hospice hospital or you can take him home and keep him comfortable. I'm truly sorry."

Mark promptly turned, vomiting right in the trash can.

/

His parents were adamant about keeping Randy's last moments happy ones. They didn't want him dying in some hospital. He'd be better off at home. Originally, they thought he'd have to stay on the couch but their dad had put together a large bed for him similar to that of what he slept on in the hospital. For once, their mom didn't protest.

Visitors from church, school and family came to say their final goodbyes. The Taylor house was like a revolving door, with people going in and out. Mark hated it. He hated seeing the tears and all the hugs. Why had everyone lost hope? Even the doctors lost hope. Not him. No. He didn't listen to those guys. He was sure Randy was going to get better. He had to.

He had to...

"You wanna watch TV?" Mark asked him as he plopped down on the couch. He didn't receive a response but figured his brother was asleep. He got up to shake his shoulder. "Randy."

Nothing. Was...was he cold?

Mark's heart hammered in his chest. He shook his brother more roughly. "Come on, Randy. Wake up!" Anger flared up inside of him. Was this his sick idea of a joke? Pretending he was dead so he could laugh about Mark freaking out later? The shaking got even more rough, tears starting to sting his eyes.

"Come on! It's not funny! Wake up!"

"Wake up, wake up," Mark mumbled and then shot up directly in bed. The back of his shirt was dampened with sweat, his throat dry.

Was it only a dream? He thought dazedly, his mind still swarming. It felt so real. Really real.

Randy. He needed to check on Randy. No matter how stupid it was, he needed to see him.

Mark threw his leg over his bed and tip-toed down to the basement where his brother was sleeping. There was no light for him to turn on so he could see the stairs. He could only grasp the railing, gently making his way down there to avoid falling and waking everyone up.

Ever so carefully, he moved the sliding door open, holding his breath the whole way. Randy was sound asleep in his bed. He laid on his side, half of his face buried in the pillow and one of his arms above his head. Mark focused on his chest. It rose up and down, up and down rhythmically. Swallowing, he crept over to his brother's bed, his hands clenched into fists.

He didn't know how long he stayed there watching his brother sleep. Nor did he know how long he planned on staying there. He just lost track of time and didn't expect Randy's eyelids to open like they did. Mark froze. Randy's eyes widened and before Mark could comprehend what was happening, his brother had yelped and had started swinging his arms in defense.

"Stop it!" Mark cried out. "Ow! Randy, stop!"

His brother abruptly halted. Mark was suddenly afraid of what he was going to say. "Mark?" he said in disbelief.

Mark felt greatly embarrassed right now. He was thankful for the darkness that kept Randy from seeing how red his cheeks had gotten.

"What are you doing?" Randy whispered harshly. Mark winced. He didn't verbally respond, simply shrugged. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? This was a huge mistake. He shouldn't have come down here. Randy was going to tell the rest of the family and by breakfast time, Mark would be under the scrutiny of his mom, trying to use the psychology tricks she'd learned on him.

Randy groaned, sitting up and reaching over to turn on the lamp that was on the nightstand beside his bed. Mark squeezed his eyes shut. Not just because the light was messing with his vision, but he didn't want his brother to see him like this. He must have already seen how pale Mark was, how disheveled his hair and pajamas were.

He did. Randy stared at him. Mark didn't like it at all.

"What's wrong?" Randy demanded with a twinge of uncertainty. Still, Mark didn't say anything. "Mark, I swear if you don't tell me what's up I'll pound you into next week," his brother threatened. Mark knew it was a bluff. He'd mostly outgrown that tendency to get into physical spats. Of course, it wasn't helping that he was likely tired and not in the mood for any of this.

So, maybe a stray punch couldn't entirely be ruled out.

"I...I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Mark's whisper was barely even audible.

He sounded so pathetic.

Randy was kind of taken aback. "What?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Mark repeated, feeling awkward.

"Okay...but why?"

Mark lowered his head in shame. "I had a bad dream," he mumbled.

Randy looked incredulous.

"It was about you," Mark blurted out.

Randy shifted in his spot on the bed. He looked uncomfortable. "Well, what about me?" He sounded snippy.

"Uh, well-"

"Sometime this century would be nice," Randy said grumpily.

"You had cancer!" Mark just came out and said. Now Randy was the one who looked frozen. "Mom got the call and then you had to go to the hospital for treatment and then you got really bad and then you died!"

The temperature in the room dropped significantly.

"I know it's stupid," Mark laughed humorlessly. "You and Brad can make fun of me all you want. I just...I had to make sure you were okay."

Randy was quiet for a long time. If it weren't for the light being on, Mark would have assumed his brother had fallen back asleep. "Mark..." Randy glanced up at him with soft eyes. It was so unlike him. "I'm okay. I'm not dying. I don't have cancer."

"I know," Mark felt so foolish right now. "I know...I just- I was really scared when I thought you could've died."

"I was scared too," Randy admitted.

Mark couldn't believe it. "You were?"

"Yeah," Randy rubbed his arm.

"No way."

"It's true," Randy said and then he seemed embarrassed. "I kinda cried to Dad."

Mark let out an oh.

"But I swear if you tell Brad any of this, you're dead," Randy told him but he was smiling so Mark didn't think he was serious. Not that serious.

"I won't," he promised.

And then there came silence.

"I guess I should go..." Mark gestured awkwardly behind him.

"Hang on-" Randy got out of bed, with Mark watching him curiously. To his astoundment, his older brother pulled him into a quick hug, patting him on the back. They hadn't hugged a whole lot throughout their life. Especially not willy nilly. "Thanks."

"For what?"

Randy let him go, giving him another warm smile. "For being a great brother."

"Am I better than Brad?" Mark was starting to feel better and he grinned.

Randy sighed dramatically. "Everybody's better than Brad."

Mark laughed.

"Oh, and before you go-can you get that?" Randy pointed at the floor.

"What?" Mark frowned, leaning down to look but not seeing anything. He was suddenly grabbed around the neck, held by Randy and given a noogie. He hadn't been given one in years, not since Brad grew bored of it and he'd become too tall for Randy to reach him.

He should have known better.

"Never let your guard down," Randy said cheerfully, snickering.