Woohoo! Thanks for all the reviews, you made me a HAAAAPPY girl! XD
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And to everyone else who left a comment, I love you guys so much!
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The room was quiet as they sat there, Randy in his wheelchair at the window, gazing out into the fading day, and John beside him. The moment John sat down, Randy had taken hold of his hand, not saying a word, not looking at him and his hold was in a subtle way possessive. Although it wasn't really a companionable silence which was lingering between them, he was willed to grant his friend all the time he needed to come back to the here and now. To speak again.
The image of Randy, radiating purest happiness as he held Alanna in his arms, floated in his mind's eye. It had been perfect. So very perfect that it made John's heart glow with warmth and… love. And it could be perfect again if he just would give in and change his mind, goddammit. Even if it meant that Randy would go back to Sam.
After about an hour the door jumped open and the doctor came in. John glanced at his watch. It was already 8 p.m., the time he would usually go home and normally there wasn't a ward round at this time. Frowning in question he looked at the man and got a curt nod as a greeting.
With a polite smile on his face the doctor turned his attention to Randy and answered the unspoken question: "As far as the anamnestic readings say, you can go home the day after tomorrow in the morning and since I won't be at the ward tomorrow and very much likely at the time you'll be released from the hospital, I wanted to make a last check tonight. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Randy said quietly and his gaze flicked from the white-clad medic to their still joined hands, to John's face and back to the doctor.
A thoughtful expression spread on his face and he added as quietly: "Could we get a second bed? I want John to stay overnight if it's possible. Please?"
This took John by surprise and he stared at him pretty much puzzled, but the plea written in his eyes as he answered his stare wiped the surprise away in a blink. The doctor sighed and John was sure he would negate Randy's request, but then he began to laugh gently, shaking his head.
"You know, we usually don't have sleepovers here," he stated and turned around to the nurse at his side. "Do we have a free bed?"
She gave him an odd look and nodded slowly.
"Well then, go and get it," he told her and motioned to her to go, before he turned back to Randy and John. "I guess we can make an exception."
His eyes softened a bit as he spoke. Maybe it was because he saw a dying man when he looked at the younger man and thought that it would do no harm to grant him this wish. And although John knew that the doctor just meant well, this way to look at Randy made him somehow angry.
Randy is still alive. Stop looking at him like he's already dead… flashed through the older man's mind involuntary.
"I wish you all the best," he added and gave a nod, before he left the room.
For a moment they sat in silence, both staring after the man. The nurse came back with the bed, giving them the same odd look she'd given the doctor. After she had arranged the beds in the small room, she left. Again, silence fell and Randy kept his eyes fastened on their hands, very much aware of John's gaze which was directed at his eyes.
"You could simply have asked me instead of confront me with a fait accompli, you know?" John said, arching an eyebrow.
Randy's lips twitched slightly and his brows furrowed as he replied: "I know and I'm sorry. But I wasn't sure if you…"
He trailed off, sighing.
"If I would say yes?" John asked hushed, tilting his head a bit to make Randy look up, but he didn't. "Look at me, Randy."
After a brief moment of hesitation, the grey eyes swept up to John's.
"Do you really think I'd say no?"
Another sigh.
"I don't know, I… I guess… I guess no."
"See? Now, I hope you don't snore, Orton."
"Well, Sam only complained about me stealing the blanket," Randy grinned, but that grin disappeared as fast as it came. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I just don't wanna be alone, you know?"
Instead of an answer, John held his friend's hand a little tighter.
"Okay, how about we get ready for bed and watch TV and talk a little until we fall asleep?" he suggested then and cursed under his breath as he remembered his date with Phil tonight.
Digging in his pockets for his cell, he added: "Shit, I totally forgot that I invited Phil over. Let me just send him a message first…"
Busy with typing his message, John never noticed the strange glint in Randy's eyes, or the way the younger man's lips tightened to a thin line…
After John had sent his message and found a nurse to wangle two single-use toothbrushes out of her, they got ready for bed. Randy pretty much hated the fact that he needed help to get into the bed, but his arm trembled too much under the effort to push himself up and onto the mattress and so he didn't say a word when John slipped his arms around the younger man's chest, lifting him up and into the bed. After he'd tucked him in, John stripped down to his boxers and crawled under his own blanket, thinking that compared to the hospital beds Randy's sleeping comfort would increase to a maximum when he moved in the next days.
Fifteen minutes later Randy's eyes swept over to the older man, who had his eyes fixed on the TV. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man and as if it wasn't silly enough that he wanted John to stay overnight in the hospital, no, now he found himself lying here, wishing John would just crawl into bed with him, so he would be close.
Goddammit…!
He groaned quietly and John's attention snapped on him immediately and he was out of the bed and at Randy's side before the younger man could say that everything was fine. Worried baby blues searched his face.
"What's wrong?"
Dammit, why had this man to be so caring?
"I… uhm," Randy stammered, grabbling for an explanation. "My head hurts."
Shit.
Shit, because he still had to tell John about this. And shit, because this hadn't been the way how he wanted to spill it.
"Want me to get you some painkillers?" John asked, worry still lacing his voice.
Those blue eyes, hovering above him… Randy couldn't help but stare into them. So close… Slowly he shook his head no. John searched his face a little longer, but then he straightened up, reluctantly, to go back to his own bed. And before Randy knew what he was doing, his hand closed around John's wrist, stopping him. Lying in the same bed, asking to be held… they had passed the point of awkwardness already, hadn't they? So why was he afraid to ask the older man? Just one word…
"Stay," Randy breathed.
The small word made John's heart jump in his chest and not wasting a second, he climbed under the blanket and resumed his position from earlier that day, pressed along Randy's right side with one arm under his friend's head and the other wrapped around his waist.
Randy pulled the blanket up to John's shoulder, scooted a little deeper into the embrace and settled his hand on the arm around his midsection. It had been so easy… There was a low hum from John and he caught himself as he closed his eyes and tried to feel that hum. Randy blinked once. It was so unlike himself… he'd never before craved human closeness as much as he'd done over the past weeks and as a matter of fact, he'd never received as much closeness like in this time with John. Not even all those years with Sam… And the closeness John provided was so manifold and it was addictive.
And he still couldn't believe that John had brought him Alanna back. Randy turned his head, coming nose to nose with him. John watched him thoughtfully, yet his features were smooth and the blue eyes wore a tender gleam. This man had no idea how precious he was.
Addictive…
"Thank you, Johnny," he whispered. "Thank you so much for giving me my girl back…"
A smile grew on the older man's face, bright enough to bring up the dimples for the second time today.
"You're very welcome, Ran. It was good to see you this happy," John whispered back and the younger man didn't need to ask, the question how was written all over his face. "About three weeks ago I made a visit at your house and talked to her. Well, at least I tried to. She wasn't very… cooperative. And I wasn't sure if she would agree, so I didn't tell you anything. It took her three weeks but at least she finally gave in, so…"
His smile dimmed and with a silent sigh John fell quiet as watched as tears began to run down Randy's face. Pulling his arm out of Randy's hold, he wiped the tears away with tender fingers, smoothing over his cheek then to linger there for a moment, before his arm resumed his place around his friend's waist and the younger man's hand settled back on it immediately.
"To hold her felt so incredibly good, I… I really thought I wouldn't be allowed to see her ever again and it hurt so damn much. I missed her so," Randy said hushed in a tearstained voice, pained yet happy. "God, Johnny, I missed my little girl so much it almost killed me. And then you…"
A small and strained laugh fell from Randy's lips and John had to restrain himself not to close the gap between them and kiss that sound away.
"I don't know how to make up to you for all you've done," Randy whispered, a shadow casting over the grey orbs. "So I guess I owe you at least the truth."
At those words John tensed involuntary. Words like this seldom meant good things to come and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Randy wanted to tell him. But Randy felt like he owed him… the truth… and John owed him to listen. And so he waited.
"John, you know that I came here back then because of a headache," Randy began and John nodded slowly, his heart starting to beat faster than it should. "My headache… it started to get worse again."
John's heart missed a beat in shock and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Pain shot through him. Randy didn't need to explain any further because it was pretty clear what that meant. The tumors were growing.
"Since…" he started but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. "Since when?"
"Six days ago."
Again John had to swallow hard against the lump that built in his throat and despite the tears which stung in his eyes he opened them again, looking into soft but sad grey orbs. Their time was limited and a suffocating fear coiled up in his chest as he once more became too aware of it.
"You should have told me sooner…" John whispered, not trusting his voice and he noticed a tickling on his face, realizing that he was… crying.
And this time it was Randy who lifted a hand to his face, wiping those tears away with gentle fingers as he replied: "I wasn't sure, Johnny. I thought... hoped, that I am wrong, but I guess I'm not. It's getting worse every day…"
"You need to do something, Ran. Please."
I'm too damn scared. It was what John read in his friend's features. Think of Alanna. It was what John wanted Randy to read in his own features and maybe Randy did, because the expression on his face wavered for a moment, before the younger man's brows furrowed in grief and closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against John's. Cautiously John pulled him even closer and Randy's hand settled back on the arm around his waist, holding it in a tight grip.
And while John felt numbness fill him, hoping that Randy would finally do something, hoping, praying that this day had given him the will to fight… Randy fought. He fought against his fears, against guilt and pain. The dimmed sound from the TV filled the room and the light coming from it painted strange pictures on the walls as they stayed like this, silent, close yet somehow alone.
And the night fell, leaving them both trapped in their own little hell.
x
Rattling sounds roused John from a deep and thankfully dreamless slumber and although he wanted to go back to sleep and forget, he was aware of the fact that it would probably be better if the nurses found him in his own bed instead entangled with Randy. But by the sounds coming through the door he had some more time before someone would come in.
Some more time. A shadow cast over John's eyes as he rolled the words on his tongue, the bitter aftertaste like a dull burning in his mouth. Some more time… His mind replayed the moment the night before when Randy told him about the increasing headache. And John still felt the numbness the shock, the fear and the pain had left behind.
Why couldn't this nightmare just find an end? Why couldn't he just wake up to a life where everything was alright?
Please… please, Randy. Don't die on me. Don't do that…
Their time-out in the hospital park, the moment with Alanna… it had been perfect. Randy and Alanna had been perfect. It had been how it was supposed to be, a dad and his little girl in their own little bubble of pure happiness.
A reason to live…
His eyes swept over Randy's face, beholding the peaceful sight, taking in the boyish features which so often showed up in his sleep when he wasn't being hunted by a nightmare. For a brief moment his eyes stopped at slightly parted lips, lips that looked so soft and kissable. Just one kiss. He would have given anything for just one single kiss. A kiss he would never be allowed to feel.
What if I stole it from you…?
His heart jumped a bit in his chest at that thought. What if he stole a kiss? Lifting his head a little, he brought his mouth close to Randy's ear, whispering his name. Once, twice and then Randy sighed softly, turning his face towards John. But he didn't wake up. And John's heart jumped again, settling for a fast and excited beating as he leant forward until his lips hovered over his friend's, only separated by a breath. Again he whispered the younger man's name. No reaction.
His eyes slipped shut as he closed the gap, placing a feather light kiss on Randy's lips. They were as soft as they looked, the forbidden touch creating an enthralling tingling and the sensation of the younger man's lips on his, even if it was barely a real kiss, had him instantly addicted.
Much too soon he pulled back, not wanting to push his luck. With another sigh Randy shifted again, turning his face against John's neck and at the same time he tightened his hold on John's arm around his waist. John hadn't changed his position the whole night through. His arm under Randy's head had long gone to sleep, his shoulder was stiff and his arm around Randy's waist had also never left its place, hurting due to not being moved over hours. And Randy had kept his hold on it all the time.
"I love you, Ran…" John whispered barely audible.
A blink later Randy murmured his name, followed by a soft groan. Fearing that he'd been caught, John froze. While one of the younger man's hands stayed fixed on John's arm, the other moved up to the front of John's shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. And then Randy turned his face away from his friend's neck, the grey eyes slowly drifting open and they were so beautifully innocent as they gazed up to John.
"Hi," Randy murmured in a voice still heavy with sleep.
"Hi," John whispered back.
There was a small smile ghosting around Randy's mouth and relief flooded the older man as he realized that Randy obviously hadn't heard him.
"You're still there," he said, giving John's arm a light squeeze.
Smiling back, John replied: "Where else should I be?"
The smile on the younger man's lips grew a bit.
"In your own bed?"
"You want me to go?"
Grey eyes searched John's face, before he felt a slight tug at his shirt, pulling him ever so slightly closer. The smile dimmed a bit.
"No, Johnny."
Johnny…
Randy had started to call him that yesterday and somehow it felt like they had just managed another step in their relationship. Sunny warmth spread in John's chest and his hold on his friend tightened involuntary. Gently pulling his arms out from under his friend's head, John bit back the wince as needles and pins stung in the anemic limb and propping up on the elbow, he let his fingertips brush over the short hair.
"How's the head, Ran?"
The twinkle in the grey eyes at the mention of this new term of endearment didn't escape his notice. It was replaced by a soft expression in a heartbeat.
"It hurts," Randy admitted very quietly, his eyes never leaving John's.
With a heavy sigh John rested his forehead against his friend's, wishing he could take the pain away from him. Hell, he would even take those fucking tumors for him if he could. And he wished Randy would finally come to his senses and accept a treatment.
"I know that you're afraid. I'm too, Ran…" John whispered and felt a suspicious burning in his throat, in his eyes as he continued. "And I wished I could change places with you, but I can't… And Alanna, she needs you… Please, please let the doctors help you…"
He heard Randy take a deep breath at his words and he heard his name being whispered again. It was the only responds he got and it could have meant everything and nothing. For a second John fought with himself if he should just push, dig, urge a little more because this very moment it felt like maybe, just maybe was on the verge to agreeing.
But just then he heard the sounds on the outside of the room getting louder, heard footsteps approach their room and he felt Randy flinch and pull away a bit. The hand on his arm vanished and the fingers which clutched his shirt loosened. The spell was broken and he knew, as much as he wanted to stay in this bed, that it was time to get out. So he untangled himself from the younger man and slipped out of the bed.
"Please think about it," he said, seeking the grey eyes once more and there was something in them… but maybe he was only imagining it…
That very moment he sat down on his own bed the door opened and a doctor came in for the morning visit, accompanied by two nurses. Randy didn't say a word about the headache or a treatment. In fact he didn't say anything at all. He just lay there, silent, letting the man do his job.
Not able to stand it any longer John went to the bathroom, swallowing hard on the bitter taste of lost hope and with closing the bathroom door behind him, he tried to shut out that very silence…
Not even five minutes later he heard the doctor and the nurses leave again. He rinsed his mouth, washing away the last bits of toothpaste foam, splashed some cold water onto his face and braced on the sink, staring into the mirror. The man who stared back at him looked defeated. John sighed and hung his head. The moment he got himself into this, he'd thought he would be stronger or rather that it would take longer until he would reach the point he had already reached by now. Being exhausted, desperate, defeated… helpless… so very much that there were moments he wasn't sure how to carry on. And he would have passed that point probably much sooner if it wasn't for Phil. John wasn't regretting his decision though, not the least bit. If time would be turned back to that point, his decision would be the same…
With another sigh he straightened up, squared his shoulders and tried to wipe the defeated expression off his face. It worked more or less, but enough to make sure Randy wouldn't notice. And so he walked back to Randy, who surprised John by sitting on the edge of the bed, his left leg dangling from it while the right one rested on the wheelchair. He smiled at John and John couldn't help but smile back, glad that Randy finally wanted to do something else than just sitting in his bed. John sat down close beside the younger man, shoulders bumping lightly.
"Good to see you try to move on your own," John said quietly, nudging him gently.
Nodding slightly Randy replied: "Yeah, well, I thought it would do no harm if I tried it."
Randy gave John a lopsided smile and nudged him back.
"Wanna go to the bathroom?" John wanted to know. "We've got about twenty minutes left until breakfast will be brought."
Again the younger man nodded and John got up from his place to arrange the wheelchair.
"Uhm… I… uhm… would like to take a shower…" Randy began slowly and John looked up.
"Okay, sure," the older man said, slipping his arms around his friend's upper body to lift him into the wheelchair and Randy's arms locked around his neck immediately, holding onto him tightly.
Cautiously John sat him down, adding as he drew back: "But the nurses are busy now, guess you'll have to…"
He stopped midsentence as Randy didn't let go, instead pulling him back in.
"I… uhm… I thought that maybe you could help me… with the shower…" Randy said in a small voice, very hesitantly and very close to his ear.
John's breath caught in his throat and he knelt down in front of the chair to get the strain off his back, glad that Randy couldn't see the furious blush that right now spread over his face. There was a chance though that he felt the burning heat that came with the blush. Gingerly he braced on the armrest as he felt the hold on his neck become even tighter and he realized that Randy very much likely held him like this to hide a blush of his own.
Ah, hell… why am I acting like a giddy schoolgirl here? I've seen him naked often enough…
Willing the blush on his face to vanish into thin air, he lifted his hands to Randy's arms and peeled them off his neck. Not without a slight resistance from the younger man though and leaning back enough to see Randy's face he noticed that, yes, there was still a faint red tingeing his friend's cheeks. The grey eyes were fixed on a random spot on the floor.
"Eyes on me," he demanded softly and after a moment Randy did look up, nervousness spreading all over his face. "It's okay, Ran. If you want me to help you, then we're gonna have shower now."
Another five minutes later Randy had made his morning routine in the bathroom and good god, John was glad that Randy managed to do the toilet-thing on his own because that was something they both didn't want to think about.
And so, shortly after, they were in the shower and he helped the younger man onto the chair in the shower, helped him get out of his clothes and then got rid of his own clothes. Randy was still looking nervous. Understandable. The position he was in wasn't a pleasant one, being dependent on the help of other people. Like now, sitting naked on this chair because he yet needed help with a simple shower and it doubtlessly wasn't making it any better that this help consisted of an also stark naked man. No matter if he'd asked John for help or not. But John had no spare clothes here, so… naked time. He sighed silently. It sure would get better gradually, when the younger man's left arm would gain the strength it once had, when he arranged himself with the situation. Provided that there was enough time left…
"Tell me if it's too cold or too hot," John said as he opened the faucet and Randy hummed as the nicely warm water rained down on him.
After a moment John closed the faucet again, poured some shower-gel on his hand and handed the bottle to Randy. Kneeling down on front of his friend, John began to wash his feet and legs, keeping more than a safe distance to the more private area. He could tell that it made feel Randy uncomfortable to have someone wash his feet and really, it was strange for John, too, but he pushed that thought aside and just did it.
His task on Randy's legs finished, he got up and moved around him. The room was quiet but for the sound of dripping water as he spread gel on Randy's shoulders and over his back, noticing how tense the muscles under his fingers felt and tentatively he began a light massage. For a brief moment Randy stiffened, pausing his own movements, before he exhaled audibly and continued to soap himself, tension fading a little again.
Involuntary Randy leaned back into the touch as John's hands did their magic. The long time he had been confined to the bed had made his whole body ache… well, the parts he still felt. A heavy sigh, bordering on a low groan, dropped from his lips as John let his fingers trail from his shoulders to his lower back in one straight movement and with just the right pressure. God, this felt heavenly…
"Did you talk to the doctor?" John asked into the quietness.
He knew John would ask this, still he asked back: "What do you mean?"
Running his hands over the heavily inked shoulders John said: "The headache."
Randy's movements slowed down a bit and shook his head no.
"What for? He would have suggested a CT, only to tell me what I already know," Randy muttered.
It wasn't surprising John that he hadn't, still he'd hoped he would.
"Think of Alanna," John said quietly, insistently.
"I think of her every day, John. And seeing on the screen what I feel in my head anyway doesn't change anything."
"You know what I mean, Randy…" John uttered.
Keeping quiet for a few seconds Randy eventually whispered: "Yeah…"
"Please, Ran… don't give yourself up," John whispered back, begging. "You need to fight."
"Johnny, I… please, don't…"
Randy didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to anyway. John knew what he wanted to say. Johnny, I can't. I'm afraid. Please don't push me, it won't change anything.
After all that John had tried to change his mind. After Randy finally had seen his little girl again. She had been John's last hope…
The hope that Randy would start to fight for his life, that tiny bit of hope he'd harbored, nourished… cracked… and broke. Just… like that. And unseen by Randy the older man closed his eyes tightly, pressed his lips to a thin line against the searing pain in his chest and willed the rising tears not to fall but it didn't work. Tears ran down his face and his throat began to burn due to biting back the sobs. He couldn't break down, not now, not when Randy was with him.
After a short moment Randy turned his head a little to the side when there was no reaction from John and asked: "John? You alright?"
There was guilt in the low rumble of the younger man's voice. John had to swallow hard on the mirthless laughter that wanted to escape his throat at the question. Yeah, he felt splendid. His hands stilled and Randy reached up to settle a hand on John's and John… he wanted to hold it and never let go… but if he would have done it that very moment, taking Randy's hand… he probably really wouldn't have been able to let him go again…
"John?"
The older man slipped his hand out from under Randy's and continued to work on his friend's shoulders, taking a few deep but quiet breaths to calm down. He had to, somehow…
"I'm fine," he muttered, not trusting his voice.
"Johnny…"
"No, really, I'm fine," he repeated tersely.
The younger man's hand sunk back down at the curt reply and came to rest on John's calf as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn't go away. They fell silent again while John kept on massaging the bit by bit relaxing muscles until they were soft under his touch. He continued to smooth over the soft skin a while longer, not wanting to lose this feeling. But eventually he had to stop. John soaped himself and turned the water back on.
Steam rose around them, cocooning them… Randy closed his eyes as John's fingers settled back on his shoulders and trailed slowly over his skin, washing away the foam and absentmindedly he leaned back against John's stomach. He only realized what he was doing when John froze.
"I'm sorry," he muttered and wanted to lean forward again, but John's stopped him, holding him against his body.
"You forgot to wash your hair," John said quietly and got himself some shampoo. "Let me… do this..."
If Randy's decision was final, then he wanted to have as much of the man he loved as he could get. Feel him as long as he could. And if Randy willingly was granting him that, he would take it. His fingers laced into his friend's hair, combing through it, massaging his scalp and he felt Randy lean heavily against him, relaxing completely. His movements became caresses and his reward was a low groan from Randy and he focused on him, pushing reality aside.
"Feels good, Johnny," Randy sighed, his headache fading into the background a bit.
They had grown so much closer than friends. This now… it wasn't something you would do with a friend…
What are we, Johnny?
Tipping his head back a bit, he looked up to his friend, seeking the baby blues. They were dimmed, as if John was somewhere else in his mind and there was no need to guess… Randy was aware that John's mood had changed after he hadn't given in to John's plea to fight…
"The doc said that I can go home tomorrow."
John blinked once, returning to the here and now and although his eyes didn't look dimmed anymore, there was still a shadow lying in their depths.
"Sorry, what did you say?" John asked, his fingers slowing down, wiping some foam from Randy's forehead.
"The doc said that I can home tomorrow," Randy repeated, furrowing his brows in worry.
John frowned and indicated him to close his eyes. Opening the faucet, he rinsed the shampoo out of the short hair. When he turned the water off, the grey eyes opened immediately and locked gazes with him again.
"Where have you been, Johnny?"
"What?"
"You looked like you're somewhere else up here…" Randy said and hinted at his head, while his other hand smoothed over John's calf.
"Uhm… I just…" John started, but shrugged it off then, trying himself on a smile. "Doesn't matter. So, you can go home? That's great."
"Yeah, it is," the younger man replied reluctantly, not buying the smile. "John, your offer about your guestroom… we haven't talked about it ever since."
Fishing for a towel, John broadened his smile and this time it was a real one.
"There was no need to," he stated. "Your room is already waiting for you, with a big and comfy bed, your own TV and a X-Box and…"
John trailed off as he saw a strange glint in the grey eyes and it was now that he noticed Randy's hand that was still smoothing up and down his calf. Savoring his friend's tender touch, he cocked his head in question as Randy began to gnaw at his bottom lip. Gently he began to dry his friend's hair.
"Where's your room?"
"It's right beside yours," the older man murmured. "Why?"
The gnawing on his lip became more nervous and the smoothing movement on John's leg stopped.
"I know it's silly but… I don't know, I just feel better knowing that you're… close..." Randy explained, his last words a mere whisper.
Those words should have given him a good feeling, but instead they brought the searing pain back he'd managed to hold at bay for the past minutes and flared up full force again, roaring, devouring. This time John couldn't hold back a sob. The towel slipped out of his fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. They had become so close over the past weeks, so very close that it almost felt like they were an item and Randy loved his little girl so damn much. So why? Why did Randy refuse to fight…? His attempt to be strong failed and he… broke down…
With a hoarse Randy, please he sank down until his knees hit the tiled floor, his hands seeking hold on the younger man's waist and with a shuddering breath he rested his forehead between Randy's shoulder blades.
"I don't know how to go on when you're... when you're not here anymore," he pressed out hoarsely between shaky sobs, not caring how it might sound to Randy, if he probably revealed his feelings for him with those words. "I can't bear the thought… Please don't die, Ran… please, don't… please…"
John's sudden breakdown left Randy shaken to the core. For long seconds he wasn't able to move, not even to breathe, the cold shock leaving him paralyzed. All he could do was staring straight ahead, eyes wide, mouth opened to say words which never left his lips. All he felt was John's trembling touch and all he heard was his pained sobs and those sobs made him move again and he whispered his friend's name, wanting to turn around to John but he was stopped as the hands on his waist tightened their hold. There was a choked no as he tried it again and in a vain attempt to give comfort he laid his hands on John's, staying like this for minutes, waiting…
Through the uproar of all those whirling thoughts and the current of his emotional breakdown there was a small voice calling for John to stop the tears and get back on his feet. And he clung to that small voice before it drowned again. Taking shaky but deep breaths, he fought the tears back and pulled his hands out from under Randy's and slowly he straightened up, coming to stand on trembling legs.
Faintly he heard Randy say his name again and as faintly he heard himself saying that he was fine… that he was sorry for those last minutes. That there was no need to worry… It was okay. And Randy wanted turn around to him again, speaking soothing words, apologizing and again John stopped him, repeating again and again that he was fine, that it was okay and it was a damn lie. And he knew that Randy knew. It couldn't have been more obvious. But eventually Randy fell silent, sitting slightly hunched over and when John handed him a towel, he clasped the fabric tightly… and his mind focused on John's unsteady breathing…
A while later they sat at the small table of Randy's room and although Randy tried his best to get a conversation going, it was more than obvious that John had to force himself to bring any words over his lips. His voice was hollow, lost. Defeated. After a few awkward minutes they fell silent and it left the breakfast awfully quiet and strained. With heavy guilt weighing down on him, Randy watched John sip his coffee absentmindedly as he stared at his plate that sat untouched on the table. John's right hand clutched the mug hard enough that the knuckle went white, while his left hand rested lifelessly on the table, close to Randy's right one. Not very much hungry himself, Randy poked in his cereals, but willed himself to eat at least half of it.
John didn't notice Randy's eyes on him. This was all so wrong, so damn wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like that… He felt numb, yet there was a paralyzing pain that lingered, devouring him and he was tired, so very tired… and more than ever he wished, prayed that this was just a bad dream. His hand free hand balled to a fist and he closed his eyes against the hot tears which stung again in his eyes. He flinchend slightly as he felt Randy's hand blanketing his gingerly, but then he relaxed his hand and allowed his friend to intertwine their fingers.
He wanted, really wanted to crawl out of this hole his breakdown had left him in, but right now he couldn't find the strength. Since he'd left his place yesterday morning there hadn't been a moment to breathe. That, combined with the certainty that all hoping was futile, had been the last straw. And it gave him the slight idea how it would be when Randy would come home with him.
Still… he didn't regret it.
Randy had sounded so final, although he hadn't really spoken out what was written between the lines. The fact that Randy hadn't talked to the doctor about a treatment, not even after Alanna's visit yesterday, made it feel even more final. Shouldn't it have been the first thing to do for him after seeing his girl? Fight? For her?
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow he would be allowed to take him home, until… it… John had promised to be there, be at his side until the very last moment and so he sat here, trying, fighting with himself to summon a strength he did not have to keep his promise. At least it was how it felt this very moment…
It was how they kept sitting for long minutes, even as a nurse came in to get the dishes. Eventually Randy couldn't stand the suffocating atmosphere in this small room any longer and as he asked John for a walk in the hospital park, his own voice sounded guilty and small to his own years. John gave him a smile as he got up to fulfill the younger man's request, but that smile never reached his eyes…
And so they were now crossing the lawn. The day was as sunlit as the day before with a bright blue sky that reminded Randy of John's eyes… like they had been in the beginning… John stopped and put on the brakes as they reached the spot where they had been sitting the day before. Then he moved around the chair, folding the left foot rest out of the way to sit in front of the chair with his back to Randy and cautiously he rested the younger man's left thigh on his shoulder, holding onto the lower leg. There was a touch on his right shoulder. Randy's hand.
"Passably comfy down there?" he asked and John sighed a yeah.
His hand lingered a while on the broad shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth in an attempt to give at least a bit of comfort, because although John had managed to gather his self-composure and pretended now that he was alright… he wasn't. He was far from alright and Randy knew it. He saw it in those blue orbs, read it in the defeated features, heard it in his voice that sounded hollow since the moment in the shower. John's breakdown… it had shocked him, so very much… John had cried before… he had tried to convince him of a treatment, even begged him to change his mind… but this… It hurt so damn much that he caused John this pain.
Over the time their relationship had changed, from giving a friendship a try to being friends, to becoming close friends. Very close friends. All of in in a little over four weeks. And why? Because this was John, who fought for getting through his well-built defenses even though he had been pushed away by words, even bodily… who gave his career up for a man who'd given himself up long ago… who put in everything he had to give… and more… just like that. John, who was being there, no matter what happened… unconditionally… for him…
For the probably first time in… Randy had no idea in how many years… he wasn't the one who had to be strong. Like in his time with Sam, when he had to be the one to protect her, being the perfect husband. Now he was the one who needed someone at his side, someone who held him up… gave him… hope… and it had been John who caught him, stopped his fall.
And now he'd even given him Alanna back… He still couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that Alanna was part of his life again…
All this time the mere thought of undergoing a treatment, of what could happen if he did, scared him to such an extent that it never had been an option. Less than ever after Sam and his parents had given up on him because they couldn't understand him. And then John came along.
Something between him and John had… shifted and it felt strange, yet good, right. He'd never imagined that he would, could allow another man being so very close like John was, not only emotionally, no, even bodily. And whatever it was that had shifted, he needed it. Him. Randy closed his eyes and focused on the tiny movement of John's shoulder under his hand as he breathed, on the warmth against his palm… feeling that he was there.
And for the first time since the diagnosis, the future wasn't scaring him as much as it had all those weeks and months, because he wasn't alone anymore… and he… Randy's heart lurched in his chest as a sudden realization brought with a breathtaking, unspoken epiphany. For the first time since his life had come apart at the seams he… wanted to live, at all costs… for Alanna and… and for John…
Randy swallowed hard and his fingers dug into the thick muscles of his friend's shoulder. He could have spared John so much pain if he'd only realized it sooner… a single, breathless laugh fell from his lips and at the odd sound he felt John tense a bit. He needed to tell him, but…
„Johnny… I… there is something important…"
Randy's voice was very quiet as he spoke and hesitant, shaky yet insistent and it created an uneasy feeling in the pit of John's stomach. He felt his friend shift a bit and the hand on his shoulder slid down, stopping right above his heart and then Randy rested his head against John's. Settling his right hand over Randy's, he held it tight as if he could fend the uneasy feeling off this way.
Closing his eyes, bracing against what might come, he said hushed: "Tell me, Ran…"
John heard him take a few deep breaths and for a long moment there was no answer, but then…
"I know you said it over and over again in the past, but…" Randy began but he halted midsentence, again taking a few deep breaths before continuing. "No matter what I say or do, no matter what happens, now or in the future… promise that you never leave me… Please, Johnny… I need you to promise…"
Swallowing hard John let his hand run up Randy's arm, settling on the younger man's nape with a tender hold and in response he felt Randy bury his fingers in the front of John's shirt. The uneasy feeling flared to full grown fear at his friend's plea.
"I promise, Ran. No matter what will happen, I'm not gonna leave you. Never. You hear me? Never."
A shaky sigh. Warm breath fanned over his neck… and then something warm dropped on his skin. And again. A tearstained Johnny was breathed and John wanted to turn around and hold him, so very much. His heart screamed at him to do something, but… as he wanted to turn around there was a whispered no. And so he waited. There was something Randy wanted to tell him and he hadn't said it yet. But he would and willing himself to stay where he was, John gave Randy the time to gather enough self-control and it was after a minute or two that Randy seemed to have calmed down enough to continue.
"Johnny, I… I'm gonna ask the doc… for a surgery."
The words were spoken barely audible yet John heard them very clearly. It took those words a few seconds to sink into John's unbelieving mind… but eventually they did sink in. His eyes flew wide open. His heart stumbled in his chest and missed a beat… For a moment he tried hard to remember how to breathe…
Oh please, god…
Again Randy said his name hushed, nervous… a little scared, too, as John didn't react. Very slowly he set Randy's leg down and drew his hand back from Randy's nape, before he turned around, kneeling between his friend's legs. His still wide eyes searched Randy's face, taking in the scared expression there, his still glassy but so very soft eyes and he prayed…
"Say that again," John said hoarsely, pleading, begging… still not believing… and his hands came up to his friend's face, framing it. "Please, say it again…"
Randy hesitated, lips pressed tightly to a thin line, nostrils flaring… and this hesitation made it hard to breathe for the older man, making his heart clench painfully out of fear Randy hadn't said those words. But it couldn't be… it couldn't, he had heard them clearly… Randy's eyes never left his and then his hand came up to fist into John's shirt while his other moved to cup John's cheek. The tension in his features faded and although the scared expression didn't vanish completely, his face became as soft as his eyes were.
There was the shadow of a smile on his lips as he spoke again: "I'm gonna do the surgery, Johnny."