Home Sick

There was a heavy, painful stone in the bottom of his stomach—no, it must have been his heart. Randall whimpered and rolled over in bed, clutching his middle in hopes pressure would ease the pain. He sighed into the dark and burrowed into the scratchy sheets, thinking briefly with some irritation that he had brought some from home but not bothered to put them on the mattress yet. These were giving his sensitive skin a rash. Had he been alone he would have flicked his little bedside lamp on and dug through his suitcases for the sheets right now, but he didn't want to risk waking Mike. Randall groaned and flung the covers off, poking his chest with one finger. His thoughts once again turned to home and the familiar anxious feeling returned, stronger this time.

Randall Boggs was homesick.

He shook his head stubbornly, thinking it incredibly silly that a monster in collage was homesick and missed his mommy. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. It was true. He'd never been away from home and his mother for longer than a summer when his father shipped him off to camp. He shuddered at the horrible memories of drafty cabins, creepy crawly bugs in his bed, ice cold dips in the algae infested lake, and exerting hikes up the mountain where you stopped, camped out, and walked back down the aforementioned mountain. He might as well have spent the summer in the backyard in a tent eating bugs and not going inside to use the bathroom, it was essentially the same experience. Except he might not have had to tolerate overly sprightly, piercingly loud camp counselor and rowdy preadolescence boys who enjoyed rough housing.

But his dad had convinced his mother that it would be good for meek little Randall. Randall himself had been harder to sway, but the crab monster had managed, saying it would be good for him to build character and physical endurance, that it would help him on his path to become a scarer. At most it only weakened his faith in youth and strengthened his hatred of nature.

But now, he'd have given anything to re-live those days because his mother would send him care packages and postcards. Now he would never receive another batch of cookies or handwritten letter. Randall sniffed and curled into a fetal position, mind replaying various precious memories of his deceased mother.

She had been a remarkably strong, beautiful woman who had raised him with often little help. His father left them when Randall was young, but it hadn't mattered because his mother had been enough. She had baked cookies and played baseball with him, both rites of passage for childhood. She juggled her baby and at times, two jobs. The reptile remembered spending a lot of time with his grandparents, and living with them when things were especially bad. In those days he only caught glimpses of his mothers mother of pearl colored tail as it passed through the front door.

On weekends he recalled early morning fishing trips with his grandma at a lake (where he was never forced to swim) and coming home to pancakes with Mom and grandpa. His sweet mother would wrap him in a long hug and pepper kisses on his head, leaving smears of lipstick as he laughed and squirmed. While he was little she'd sit him in her lap and they'd eat like that, playfully tossing strawberries into each other's gaping mouths—or trying to, they mostly missed.

Sunday was the one day she had free, and she always spend it with him. They would go out, just the two of them, and get ice cream or play at the park. Tears were sliding down his cheeks and dampening the pillow, but Randall didn't notice. His memories skipped forward in time to after his mother, Diana, had moved in with Mr. Waternoose. The house was bigger, but little Randall was more or less pushed to the side. He tried to be good, he really did, but his new daddy didn't really like him that much. A few years later Diana passed away peacefully in her sleep after years of battling a terminal disease.

He was fully sobbing now, smothering his cries with his wet pillow. A light turned on and the small room was flooded with artificial light. Mike sat up in bed, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eye.

"You okay?" the little green monster asked, blinking.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Randall mumbled, hiding under the covers. He heard small feet scurry across the room and weight appeared on the beds edge as Mike sat. A hand landed on his shoulder.

"How can you be fine? You're crying." He pointed out matter-of-facly. Randall remained silent and curled into a tighter ball. "Did you have a nightmare?" Mike prodded.

"…The waking kind."

"Oh."

Neither spoke or moved and Randall became annoyed. If Wazowski wasn't going to say anything he could just leave. He moved to get out from under the covers to tell him as much when the little monster leapt off the bed. Randall relaxed and laid down in a more comfortable position, suddenly exhausted. The same rhythm of footsteps reentered and approached him.

"What now?" he growled, glaring at his roommate, who held a glass of water and a pill.

"Here, at least drink the water, the others a sleeping pill that I like to take, you'll sleep to morning."

"What time is it now?" Randall questioned, vaguely looking for a clock.

"Uh… ten going on eleven." The salamander took the water and swallowed the tablet, gaze softening.

"Thanks, Mike."

"No problem, buddy. No get some shut eye, we want to be well rested for class tomorrow."

Randall chuckled quietly and rolled his eyes, eventually falling into a dreamless, blissful sleep.

Super short, sorry. I still do not own Monsters Inc or any of its characters; Diana is a child of my mind, though. For a while I had an idea what Waternoose be Randall's dad, and that could be why he disliked Sully in the movies (because Waternoose liked Sully more than his son). Hope you liked it, please review if you did. Not to say that you couldn't review even if you didn't like it XD