Close to You

Never Meant to See you like This

Disclaimer: I own no one!

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Randy sighed, leaning onto the couch. He was out for the week, due to a mild concussion. He looked forward to the rest, but he also hated being without John.

"Bobo, I miss John," he said, speaking to his teddy bear. He believed in the idea that teddy bears were able to 'listen'. Besides, Randy felt stupid, talking to an animate object about his feelings.

His cell phone began to ring, playing the opening bars of "After All"
by Peter Cetera. Reaching for it, Randy secretly hoped it was John. He wasn't surprised, when he saw the phone's screen and realized it was Trish.

"Yes?"

"Get on the next flight to Arizona,"

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"John's injured!"

"Badly?"

"I'll explain when you get here!" With that, she hung up.

Randy jumped up. What was wrong with his boyfriend? Had he been injured in the ring? Had he been attacked? Was it a hate crime? Why wasn't Trish telling him anything?

He packed a simple duffel bag. In it, he put the bare necessities. Clothing and toiletries were all he put in. He didn't have time to worry about complicated packing.

He got to the airport in record time. Due to some clever driving, the normally twenty minute ride took ten minutes. As he rushed to the ticket counter, he could scarcely breathe. His chest was on fire. He was coughing. As bad as he felt, he was more worried about John.

Was John in pain? Was he dying? Was he even conscious? Why was Randy allowing his mind to wander?

"Traveling on business?" the woman next to him asked. Randy shook his head. How could he begin to explain to her why he was traveling?

"My boyfriend's injured in Arizona," he explained, expecting the woman to recoil in disgust. The woman closed her eyes. Then, she began to speak.

"You remind me of my son." she murmured, in an almost inaudible whisper. "He just had to fly to Tulsa, because his boyfriend had been taken down by pneumonia. I never saw James cry, until he got the word that Justin was near death," She sighed. "I love my son, and I never realized how much Justin meant to him. Call me a naïve idiot,"

"Yeah," Randy said, unsure of what to say. She sighed.

"Would you like to see a picture?" she asked. Slowly, Randy nodded. She unsnapped the clasp of her purse, and rummaged through it. Grinning, she pulled out a bent picture, and handed it to Randy.

Randy glanced down at the picture. It was of two men, holding each other. One man was African-American, with short black hair. The other man was white, with dirty blonde hair. Both had huge smiles on their faces.

"The black man is Justin. The other man is my son." she said, smiling. "It was taken at their commitment ceremony. I can tell you I've never seen James smile so much. People say I'm crazy, but I swear Justin is the best thing to ever happen to James,"

Randy closed his eyes. Emotions coursed through his body. He had never known a parent's support. His adventures of life had been journeyed through alone.

"Would you like to see a picture of my boyfriend?" Randy asked. The woman nodded. Randy pulled out a small snapshot. The woman examined it.

"What happened to him?" she asked, handing it back. Randy shrugged.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. The woman placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Have faith, and things will work out," she murmured, staring into his eyes. It was obvious he reminded her of her son.

Randy spent the rest of the flight in absolute silence. He couldn't speak. He could barely think straight. He just wanted to get to John.

The plane landed right on schedule. As soon as he was allowed off, he literally bolted off the plane. He didn't care about anyone, or anything.

Trish met him in the center of the airport. She seemed worried. She seemed upset. What was wrong?

"How is he?" The words left his mouth before he could reach her. He wanted information, and he wanted it now.

"He's got stab wounds, to his stomach and chest. He has a serious concussion and at this point, it's touch and go," Trish said, closing her eyes. Randy struggled to control his emotions.

"What happened?" he asked. Trish sighed.

"The best anyone can figure out is that he was attacked by a homophobic fan," Trish replied. "Honestly, we just don't know,"

Randy felt sick inside. He had never experienced homophobia. He had never been attacked. The worst that had ever happened to him was some idiotic teenagers screaming out homophobic slurs. Now, he risked losing the love of life, because one person was ignorant and couldn't bear to see someone different than themselves.

Trish drove to the hospital in complete silence. She could sense Randy wanted silence. He was obviously lost in his thoughts.

Once inside the hospital, she quickly led him to the room. She knew all he wanted to do was see John. She couldn't blame him.

Randy slowly opened the door of the hospital room. Immediately, the thick scent of disinfectant began to smother him. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the sight of his lover. It wouldn't be easy, but he wouldn't freak out.

Opening his eyes slowly, he felt his knees go weak. Glimpsing the still form of his lover, Randy frantically glanced around for something to brace himself on.

He made his way to a plastic chair, at John's bedside. Groaning, he sat down, and began to focus on his lover, grasping his still hand.

In his right hand, there was intravenous tubing attached to a clear bag of liquid. In his left hand was intravenous tubing attached to a bag of crimson red blood. Slowly, each solution entered into his veins drip by drip.

He was attached to monitors. One monitor showed his blood pressure. One monitor showed his blood oxygenation levels. One monitored his heart rate.

This wasn't his John.

The sight of his beloved on the brink of death was almost too much for him to bear.

Then, the heart monitor began to scream.

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Hey!

A little cliff hanger to end the chapter. I'm in the midst of moving, so, I have no clue when my next update's going to be. Hopefully, it'll be soon.

Enjoy!

-Jen