Once again I find myself in the middle of the night. I always do when I finally end a chapter and I'm always close to fall asleep on my keyboard…
Now, thanks to all you faithful souls. Especially to those who leave a few words
Here is part 15 and we're still in our journey. AND I hope you gonna like what comes as much as you liked what already happened.
I love you guys! And now, here you go. Have fun and let me know what you think!
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Phil sighed, a lazy sigh filled with contentment. God, this was so good. Sex with John had been good. Really, really good. Like, amazing. His backside would be sore for at least a day or two, but it had been damn worth it. And lying here with John, in his arms, the massive body half-blanketing him felt good. He took a deep breath, inhaling the older man's scent. A smile spread over Phil's lips. He could get used to this. Really. He could get used to… John, being around all the time with all those nice things they did. Hanging out, talking, cuddling… fucking. A shiver ran down his spine as he suddenly remembered those familiar blue eyes becoming dark, something raw lying in their depths… Oh yeah, he wanted that more often.
He sighed again. As content as he was being where he was, he couldn't sleep and for hours he'd been lying here now, blinking into the darkness. And so Phil slipped very cautiously out of John's embrace and the bed and padded over to the door, where he turned back to gaze at the older man's sleeping form. John was lying on his belly and the blanket pooled around his hips, revealing the broad shoulders and the muscled back. God, that body… There was a regretful and tiny sigh dropping from Phil's lips as he watched him and he silently cursed his insomnia. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be lying there, sleeping and enwrapped in those arms, hidden in his embrace? Oh yeah, it would. This man was like a stronghold. Strong arms which provided an embrace to get lost in and broad shoulders to lean against, to hold onto.
But bloody hell, lying there fully awake the whole night through was precious little wonderful. As much as he liked cuddling with John, he had to do something, read or watch TV or something like that. With a crooked smile he padded back to John, breathed a kiss on his lips and got a mumbling in response, before he left the room and closed the door quietly.
He didn't bother to switch the lights on as he went downstairs, as the night was just moonlit enough that he could make out the stairs and his surroundings. Heading for the kitchen to help himself to something to drink, his attention was drawn to a soft blinking in the darkness which turned out to be John's cell. Someone was calling. At the dead of night. Nice. Curious he flipped it open and his gaze fixed on the display and the caller ID shown there.
"Oh, you'll never guess…"
Phil snorted and narrowed his eyes at the small device in his hand, pondering if he should simply flip it shut and get himself something to drink or… The little devil on his shoulder won and he answered the call.
"Hello, Randal," he greeted hushed but most politely as he walked over to the living-room.
A short moment of surprised silence. Correction, this was an utterly surprised silence. And he so could imagine the expression on Randy's face right now.
"Brooks?" The name was spoken in a most incredulous way. "What the fuck are you doing at John's place at this time and why are you answering his cell? And where the hell is he?"
Phil's lips stretched to a bitter smile as he replied, sarcasm coating his words: "So many questions, Randal? John asked me to stay, because, you know, he didn't want to be alone and right now he's sleeping. And, no, I'm not gonna wake him. I just wanted to hear that wonderful voice of yours when I saw that it's you. Why do you call at this time anyway? Shouldn't your be holding you beloved wife and sleep peacefully?"
There was a huff on the other end of the line and then Randy sighed, explaining softly: "I want back home."
Back home? Phil narrowed his eyes again, gazing into the darkness of the room as he rolled the words on his tongue. Now, that was surprising.
"You are home, Orton," he stated nevertheless, slowly and inquiring, because he didn't like the taste of those words.
Randy muttered something but Phil couldn't quite understand it. He waited and when Randy spoke again his voice was quiet and low, a little guarded maybe and there was something else floating between those words.
"No. I mean… back home to John."
"Oooh, back home to John?" Phil said, his voice dripping now with a rich amount of sarcasm. "Do you know what you're doing to him? Have you ever really lost a thought about it? His whole life revolves around you and he practically has no private life left. You can't switch him on and off as you like! Be a man and stop crying, you can be with your family again, so give him his life back, goddammit!"
He wanted to add: oh, and by the way, he just fucked me senseless and, yes, I want him to do it again so, no, I'm not willed to leave him to you. It was so itching him to spill it but he bit his tongue, because spilling it would most likely mean that he wouldn't get a chance to repeat their little… intercourse.
"You have no fucking idea, so shut the fuck up, Brooks! And now I want to speak to John," Randy suddenly growled but it didn't escape Phil's notice, that this growl resulted from… fear?
Oh, I guess I do have an idea, Randal.
"No," Phil said very slowly and the sarcasm gave way to and annoyingly calm tone. "Stay with Sam and stop hurting him."
Yeah, Phil had an idea and that was why a sudden strange emotion deep in his chest told him to make sure Randy would stay away.
"I… I can't," Randy stated.
"Is that so? Why?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you, Punk!"
"Oh yes, right now you need to, Randal. I told you this once and I think I should remind you of it: I'm gonna make your life a hell if you hurt him. And you do hurt him, you bastard! So why?"
"I… goddammit, I…"
And while Phil waited for Randy to explain himself, he heard the padding of naked feet and his name was being called and with a muttered fuck he hung his head. John had chosen the most perfect moment to interrupt and now Phil would neither get an answer from Randy, nor would he get his chance to end that thing between John and Randy.
Randy had fallen silent and using the last chance to say something to him Phil hissed: "Stop toying with him, Orton. You hear me? Stop destroying his life! I swear I…"
"Phil?"
John's sleepy voice stopped him midsentence and he took to cell down, turning around to the door the very second John stepped into the room. He seemed to be more asleep than awake and stopping in the doorway he leaned heavily against the frame for support, rubbing his eyes, yawning. It was a forbidden cute sight and it made Phil's heart jump in… in… love…
Oh good lord. Fucking hell. Damn fucking shit…!
It hit Phil like a sledgehammer and hadn't it been so dark John might have seen him turn white as a sheet. This… should never have happened. He released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding and the air escaped his lips in a shuddering sigh as he tipped his head back. No. This should never have happened. Falling in love with John had never been supposed to happen. Never. John didn't love him back, couldn't and he fucking knew that. He'd known it from the beginning. At which fucking point had he lost control over his feelings?
"Phil? What's wrong?" John mumbled and pushed away from the frame, padding over to him.
Phil's head snapped forward again and he stared at John wide-eyed as he felt a touch on his shoulder. This was bad. Really, really bad. And then he watched John's eyes sweep down to his hand and the cell he was holding. John's cell. And although it was dark and the older man was sleepy, he recognized it immediately. A frown appeared on John's face.
"What are you doing with my cell?" he asked slowly, looking back up to Phil who sighed defeated.
Lying wasn't an option and so he shrugged his shoulders and said, holding the cell towards the older man: "It's Randy."
The frown on John's face deepened and being so close to him Phil saw a deeply hurt expression flash up in those baby blues as his friend took the cell and turned around, taking a few steps away from him.
"Randy?" John said quietly and audibly reserved.
"Johnny…" Randy sighed and when he continued he sounded so forlorn that John's heart ached. "I know it's late and I… I'm… so damn sorry… It was a mistake. I should have come home with you."
John froze and closed his eyes. The ache in his heart grew…
"You're with your family. How can that be a mistake? Isn't that what you wanted, to be with Sam and Alanna? You were right, you know? Your place is at their side, not with me, Randy," he rasped, repeating the words Randy had chosen earlier that day, willing them to pass his lips and he couldn't help the hurt undertone which was lacing into his voice.
He knew his reaction wasn't fair. In fact it was fucking wrong. He couldn't blame Randy for not feeling the same way he did, even less since the younger man had no fucking idea that John was in love with him and he couldn't blame him for wanting to stay with his family. He fucking couldn't blame him for taking all John gave him without rewarding him with, what, that kind of love? Yet he did blame him for all of it and John hated himself for not being able to stop himself. Behind him Phil whispered his name soothingly, brows furrowing in pure sorrow as he stepped up to John, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist to pull him back against his chest. And John let him, leaning against him for support and comfort.
Randy's fingers closed around the armrest of the wheelchair in a death-grip. He couldn't breathe. Blinking once, he fought against the cold grip around his heart. John had promised to be at his side no matter what, but Randy knew there's only so much one can take and he had ignored it, had taken John for granted. One fucking sentence. He had messed things up with one fucking sentence, big time and he had no fucking idea how to apologize and make up for it.
"This isn't my home anymore," he said eventually, hoping that the older man would, could believe him.
John shook his head softly as he replied, voice still raspy: "You just need some time to accustom yourself with being back at home. Look, I'm tired and I need some sleep. We can talk tomorrow, okay?"
"Johnny, please!" Randy begged. "Please…"
It was the very second John wanted to end the call and stopping mid-movement, the older man looked at the small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over the button. Distantly he noticed Phil drop a kiss on his shoulder and Phil's hand, smoothing along his arm and towards the cell, probably to flip it shut. It was the way Randy's voice sounded, sincere, pleading, that had stopped him and the fact that he loved him and that, although he was disappointed and hurt and blaming him for things he couldn't be blamed for, he wanted nothing more than having him back and close every damn second. And before Phil's hand reached his, he put the cell back to his ear.
"John?" Randy's voice was still begging as he spoke, quiet and guilty and maybe even a bit scared. "John? You still there?"
John took a deep breath and whispered: "Yeah."
Phil's arm dropped to his side and he stepped back from John, who seemingly didn't notice it. It hurt. It shouldn't though. And Phil found himself torn between being happy for John that Randy wanted to come back to him, being jealous and being angry and disappointed. The mere fact that he had to admit to himself that he was feeling more for John than he ever wanted to allow himself pissed him off, because he knew that he factually had no chance to get a foot between John and Randy. And now he had to make a decision. Ending his… relationship with John, being happy with all he got or fight for John…
John brushed a hand through his face as he waited for Randy to say something. His throat was dry and felt raw as he swallowed hard. Through the line he heard Randy breathe fast and wondered what had happened in those few hours. Randy whispered his name, some strange emotion clinging to that whisper and oddly enough it made the hair on his neck stand on end.
"Please, I want to come back home…"
The younger man's voice was very, very small and, yes, definitely scared.
I miss you, Johnny…
Randy could taste the words on his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to just say them. And he had no idea why he couldn't. It would have been an honest explanation, the one explanation. He missed John. It was as simple as that. He missed him like hell. So much that it wasn't possible for him to stay with Sam. So damn much that almost tore him apart…
Even through the phone John could sense Randy's inner turmoil and after agonizing long seconds he realized that Randy wouldn't or maybe couldn't say more about what was going on and he didn't need to, because despite everything that had happened today, John's heart had made its decision the second his friend had admitted that staying with Sam had been a mistake. And so… John gave in.
"Okay, Ran. It's okay. I'm coming," John promised. "I'll hurry."
He ended the call and stared down at the small device and despite the happy tingling that grew in his chest he wasn't sure if he was about to make a mistake, but his feet started to move on their own accord.
"Sunshine, wait," Phil said and grabbed his wrist, holding him back. "Don't go."
John looked down at Phil's hand and then back up to him and a tiny, crooked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I have to, Phil," he said and hell, as if he really had another choice than to comply with Randy's plea.
"No, you don't have to," Phil insisted fervently. "He's a grown man, not a three year old who needs his ass pampered. What if he suddenly decides that he wants to go back to Sam after all? Do you really want to get hurt again?"
A heavy sigh dropped from John's lips because he knew Phil was right, still he replied softly: "But I want to go and I have to risk that he maybe decides to go back to her again. I want him here with me, Phil. I need him and I love him and I can't turn that off…"
There was an apologetic expression lying in those blue eyes as John gently tried to free his wrist from Phil's hold, but with a sudden forceful tug the younger man pulled him in, his hand still holding tightly onto John's wrist while his free arm locked around his neck. It was a pitiful and desperate emotion that overwhelmed him and caused him doing this without thinking first. And so he laid his lips on John's and this kiss was begging the older man to stay and for a second or two John found himself unable to move. Utterly surprised he tried to understand what was happening, but then his body reacted before his mind caught up and his arms came up and around the slim waist and he gave into the kiss.
The kiss didn't last very long though and it was Phil who ended it, whispering as begging as the kiss had been: "Don't go, Sunshine. Stay with me, please. Please. Don't you see that I need you? That I lo…"
Phil fell silent as he realized what he was about to say, but John… understood, tensing slightly against him. His eyes flicked back and forth as he tried to get into his head what his ears had just heard and when it sank in, a pang of guilt and uncertainty rang through him.
"Phil… I… don't…" he began but Phil cut him off.
"I know that you don't love me that way, but maybe… You love Randy and you say that you can't have him and I thought that maybe we could, you know, be more… that after a while you maybe could… love me like that…"
It took John a moment to recover from those two revelations and when he wanted to say something, the words failed him. Opening his mouth, he stared at Phil, knowing that his reaction was like a slap to the face for him and just then he felt the younger man letting go of his wrist.
"Phil, I… don't know if it could work," he finally said, still not finding the right words for what he wanted to say and his voice was heavily laced with sincere regret and grave sadness. "I'm not sure if telling him about us would be a good idea. And… Randy and I, we're close and he would be around all the time. I can't do that to you. It would go far beyond not being fair."
Phil had to swallow hard and averted his eyes and it strung a cord deep within John, calling him to gather his friend in his arms and comfort him and just as he lifted his arms a bit to do it, Phil took a few steps back. The message was clear. Don't touch me.
"Okay, I get it… I gotta go," John whispered and went upstairs to throw some clothes on.
All the while Phil stood paralyzed in the middle of the living-room, standing at the same spot and in the same posture as John came back down and walked over to the front door where he stopped and turned back to the younger man.
"Will you be here when I come back?" he asked quietly.
Phil blinked once, slowly looking back up to John.
"I don't know, John," he said defeated.
And maybe it wasn't a right or fair thing to do, but John walked over to Phil and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"I could understand if you wouldn't be here when I come back, but I want you to know… I hope you'll be here," he murmured against his friend's lips.
Phil stepped back again and crossed his arms over his chest.
"And then I'm gonna sleep on the couch while the two of you are upstairs in your comfy beds, maybe even in the same bed?" he uttered, gazing away. "That's how it would be, wouldn't it? If you don't want to tell Randy about us?"
And again John was at a loss what to say and so he only stood there and gazed at Phil, who brushed a hand over his hair, shaking his head softly as he stepped back even more.
"You should go now. Randy's waiting," Phil muttered.
One heartbeat. Two. And three.
"I'm sorry, Phil."
John was sorry. Deeply. It made his chest clench painfully and Phil knew how sorry he was. It didn't change a thing though.
"Yeah, John, I'm sure you are…"
He didn't gaze back to John and just waited until John eventually went back to the front door, not wanting or daring to say another word to the younger man, and left and when the door closed behind him the sound of it made Phil flinch. And suddenly the house seemed even darker and so very empty.
Outside John hesitated and a voice, coming from the back of his mind, was whispering to him to go back in because it would have been the right thing to do but the other voice, the one that was coming straight from his heart, it was louder and it was telling him to get to Randy as fast as possible. And so his feet brought him to his car.
Listening to the fading sound of the leaving car, Phil remained unmoving and he still tried to comprehend what just had happened. He had fallen in love. He never had wanted to. But maybe he should have known, should have recognized the signs. And there was another realization, a small one but crushing in its nature: all the time he had been sure that Randy was depending on John, but… it was John who was depending on Randy. A laughter, bordering on being hysterical, dropped from his lips. There was no way he could make John forget about Randy and just a few minutes ago he had reduced himself to a pitiful and begging fool, but the worst thing was… he knew he would do it again and be thankful for every tiny bit of attention John would give him.
Around him the darkness seemed to grow thicker and the quietness seemed to become heavier. And the emptiness… deeper…
When John pulled up into the driveway to Randy's house a while later, his heart started to pound heavily in his chest. All the way he'd done his best to blank his mind, more or less successful. The drive had been a mere blur.
As the motor of the car died down and the lights went off, he noticed a silhouette standing at the window that moved out of view when he got out of the car. He walked over to the front door which opened before he even had a chance to lift his hand and knock.
Sam stepped out of the way and as his eyes swept over her he immediately noticed the slightly hunched shoulders and her arm that was wrapped around her middle, while the other hand gripped the door tightly. As she closed the door behind him, he turned around to her.
"What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice very low.
She blinked once, twice, crossing her arms over her chest.
"All I know is that he got out of the bed in the middle of the night, telling me that this isn't working. So you better ask him what happened, because I have no fucking idea," she said but her voice was by far not as unfriendly as it used to be the last times.
In fact it sounded rather sad and disappointed, still he couldn't bring himself to say something comforting.
So instead he murmured: "Where is he?"
Motioning towards the living-room she muttered: "Over there. I guess the two of you should go before Alanna wakes up. She has no idea that her dad is still here and I don't want her to notice something. It would break her heart if she knew that her dad obviously can't bear to stay here."
John's brows furrowed at her last sentence.
"Don't worry, Cena. He still can see her. You should go to him now. He's waiting for you."
Giving her a short nod he walked over and stepped into the softly lit living-room. The younger man was deeply lost in his thoughts and he was obviously not aware that John was in the house and even in the same room now. John's steps were faltering and his heart was pounding hard against his chest. His eyes never left Randy's face and the younger man looked so very lost. Gingerly approaching him, he called his name hushed and at the sound of the older man's voice Randy's head snapped around, eyes widening slightly before an expression of undisguised relief spread over his handsome features. John kept walking towards him and although he was glad beyond words that he was here now, that he would take Randy home with him again, he still felt hurt and it dimmed the smile that now spread over his lips.
"Johnny," Randy whispered. "I… wasn't sure if you would come."
His heart was beating fast and he could have pretended it was because he really hadn't been sure if John would come and it was pure relief that made his heart speed up, but it wasn't only that. John squatted down beside the wheelchair, eyeing him intently for a few seconds as he searched for a hint what was going on and as much as Randy wanted to reach out and touch him, he didn't dare doing so.
"I told you I would," he replied softly. "Randy… what's wrong?"
"I… I don't know."
Liar.
Uncertainty and confusion were shining visibly in Randy's eyes, begging him to do something. Anything. And there was something else the older man read there. Something he'd never seen there before, something new, well-guarded by the other lingering emotions. John sighed quietly and the smile dimmed a bit more as he realized that Randy really seemed to be at a loss what was wrong with him. As he straightened up, he felt the urge to drop a comforting kiss on his friend's cheek, but this wasn't the right moment and for sure not the right place to do it.
"Okay then… let's go home," John said and Randy breathed a yes.
Making their way to the front door Randy let his gaze drift through the room. A room he'd been in uncountable times with things in it he'd seen so often that at some point he had stopped taking notice. This room, this house… Sam… all of it should have been familiar, but all this, even his own wife, had become foreign to him.
Sam was still standing in the hall. John stopped as she put a hand on Randy's shoulder, who looked up to her and she met his gaze, just looking down on him for a moment or two.
"Why, Randy? I don't understand it," she said quietly, begging for an answer.
Gently settling a hand on hers he shook his head softly.
"I don't understand it myself, Sam," he replied as quietly and also a little helplessly. "I'm sorry."
Goddamn liar.
Sam's face softened, her eyes becoming gentle and in them John could read that she still loved Randy, so very much. And for the first time ever John saw the woman his friend had married as the layers of hurt pride, worry and anger were wiped away.
"Okay. Maybe you just need some time," she said hopefully. "We could try it again in a few days or weeks and we can meet as often as you want until then?"
She wanted him back, now that Randy had changed his mind and in the pit of John's stomach stirred a bad feeling, dull and faint but more than noticeable there.
Randy managed a small smile as he said: "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."
He gave her hand a soft pat and then drew his hand back, looking up to John as if to say: can we please finally go? And John noticed her flinch at that little pat and her hand slipped from his shoulder, falling lifelessly to her side and John knew the reason. It was the kind of pat one gave… a friend. A pat that said: no matter what happened, we'll stay friends.
She was pale as she stepped up to the door, opening it for them and as they passed her, John gave her a small nod, but she didn't look at them. Her lips were quivering and her eyes glassy and John almost felt bad for leaving her behind like that.
Their ride to John's place was quiet. Partly because John didn't want to say a word, partly because Randy didn't dare to say a word and partly both were at a loss what to say at all. And so, when they arrived at John's house, the quietness followed them until they stepped into the house and found Phil sitting on the last step of the stairs.
He was sitting there, bracing his elbows on his knees and with his hands folded, chewing on his lip-piercing and with a strange expression flashing up in his eyes he stared at them. A wave of relief flooded John and he took a step towards him and as he did so, Phil stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Phil…" John murmured in an almost grateful way and it made Randy look up to him.
The look in John's eyes made his heart drop, although he had no idea why, because he couldn't even name the emotion he saw there.
Tilting his head a bit to the side, Phil muttered: "Just wanted to be sure you're back in one piece."
His eyes swept down to Randy and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"Hello, Randal," he added and his voice was taking on a cold tone.
"Brooks," Randy replied quietly.
John took another step towards Phil, drawing the man's attention back onto him.
"You staying?" the older man asked hopefully, but Phil shook his head no.
"No, I'm gonna go home," Phil said, the cold tone morphing to a defeated one. "I meant what I said, John."
Gazing from John to Randy and back to John he was tempted for a second to just step forward and kiss John, to end this farce, but he was fully aware that it would destroy everything. It would destroy John's and Randy's rela… friendship and it would destroy what was between John and him. And John saw it in Phil's eyes…
"Phil, please, wait a moment," John begged hushed. "I'm gonna bring Randy to his room and come back down. Just a minute, okay? Just one minute."
Phil nodded reluctantly and John mouthed a thanks before he walked over to Randy and for a moment Phil's and Randy's gazes locked. This is not over, said Phil's. You can't have him, get the fuck out, said Randy's. And then John lifted Randy up and made his way upstairs, leaving an indecisive Phil alone in the hall and as Phil watched them, he caught Randy look at the older man in a way that made Phil think.
John didn't say a word as he placed Randy on the bed, gently but reserved and still not saying a word he arranged the wheelchair he'd left here earlier beside the bed. Just as he wanted to head back down, Randy spoke his name and it was barely a whisper. For a moment John was tempted to simply ignore it, but then he answered Randy's gaze.
"Not now," he sighed. "I gotta go to Phil."
And then he turned around and left the room before Randy could say something again and he felt bad about it, but he had to go to Phil, had to talk to him. Phil was standing at the same spot when John came down and the older man walked over to him, stopping a step or two in front of him as he noticed the defensive posture.
"Please, Phil, stay and we can…"
Phil stopped him by holding up a hand before John could end his sentence and in a bitter tone he muttered: "No, John. We can't. In a few days maybe, but not now."
And again John wanted to say something and again… Phil cut him off.
"Just… don't," he said weakly. "You can't let your hands off Randy and I can't let my hands off you and although you also can't let your hands off me I know I can't stand a chance against him. And that's why I need time to get my head straight. You should go back to him. We'll talk in a few days. I just waited because I know you're blaming yourself for what happened but there's no need to. I knew what I was getting myself into and you don't need to blame yourself for taking what I was very willing to give. And… what I'm still willed to give, Sunshine."
Settling a hand on John's cheek he leaned in and kissed him and John's hand came up, fingers twisting into Phil's shirt because despite his friend's words the kiss tasted somehow like a good-bye. Phil broke the kiss and stepped away from John, the fabric of the younger man's shirt slipping from John's fingers even as he tried to hold onto it. And then… Phil left.
Frozen to the spot John kept staring at the closed front door for a minute and a part of him was screaming at him to follow Phil, but he couldn't move. When had the things started to get out of hands? He'd never wanted to hurt Phil… And he should never have crossed the line… What if he'd lost Phil because he had been such a goddamn egoist, so fucking blind? What if he…?
His name was being called, making him snap out of his thoughts. And again. Randy's voice was questioning and worried and his feet moved on their own accord, bringing him back to his friend. A bitter I'm sorry passed his lips as he made his way up the stairs. As he stepped into Randy's room he found the younger man sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand on the wheelchair and he was obviously about to get into the chair. Randy's eyes met John's as the older man walked over to the bed, motioning him to get back into the bed. Silently Randy did get back in, shifting until he was lying comfortably while John arranged his legs and pulled the blankets up, all the while avoiding the questioning grey eyes.
"Johnny?" Randy asked hesitantly, but he received no reaction. "I'm sorry for what I said. I never wanted to hurt you…"
"Let's talk tomorrow, okay?" John said quietly, cutting him off. "I'm tired."
The undisguised relief John had seen on his friend's face had long vanished and there was deep worry now etched to the handsome features. But it was almost morning again and John was much too tired to start a conversation about what had happened. And to be honest, he had no idea what to think about all that had happened. About what Randy had done… and what Phil had said. Things had been too much…
Please, stay. Stay here, stay with me. This was what Randy also wanted to say but didn't dare to. And again he wanted to reach out but as John straightened up and finally met his gaze with guarded eyes, he buried his fingers in the blanket instead.
And then John surprised him by leaning down to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
"Sleep now," he murmured. "You're home and it's gonna be alright."
Wide-eyed Randy stared at him and John gave him a tiny smile, before leaving the room without another word. The lights were switched off and Randy heard the older man whisper a good-night to him, leaving the door open. Listening into the night Randy heard John walk over into his room, apparently not closing the door and he heard him get into bed. Then… silence.
In the other room John was lying on his side, eyes fixed on the world outside which looked like an eerie, animated black-and-white painting. It had become a habit to do it, stare out of the window when he couldn't sleep. The disastrous day was weighing heavily down on him. After their conversation during the breakfast it shouldn't have been much surprising that Randy would go back to Sam, maybe even at the same day… it had been painful nonetheless, to see that happy family-portrait, to hear he wanted to stay with Sam. And John knew very well that every single word he'd said to Randy on the phone afterwards had not been okay, even though they had been the truth.
But Randy's choice of words… Simple words… but strong enough to draw a bleeding wound.
And Phil... Phil… It had been so easy with him, so carefree all the time. They had been friends and the attraction which built between them had sweetened the whole thing, not to speak of the relationship that had developed out of this attraction. But then it had to happen and suddenly Phil told him that he loved him and it made things complicated… although he almost wished he could love him back.
Because… it would be easy.
He knew how it felt to be with Phil and it felt so damn good. But that good feeling was different though, compared to being with Randy. Being with Randy felt right, so amazingly good and the love he felt for him was overwhelming and he wanted it, all of it and he wanted him, no matter how much pain it caused him.
And now he felt torn. Torn between going on like he'd done the whole time or ending his relationship with Phil or… give in to Phil's plea and jump head over heels in a real relationship with him, hoping that he would… could forget Randy.
Groaning quietly he closed his eyes and turned his head deeper into the pillow. Sometimes he wondered if there was more between Randy and him. There were times when it felt like there was more, when Randy reacted to those little touches or kisses by turning into them, when they were lying in the same bed and Randy was practically clinging to him. But he probably was only imagining it. It was wishful thinking that Randy might ever feel the same.
Through his whirling's thoughts he noticed something… or rather, he missed something. His bed. It felt empty and it didn't smell right. It didn't smell like Randy…
Once again he opened his eyes, baby blues fixing on an invisible spot somewhere on the eerie black-and-white painting behind the window… and in the quietness of the room his thoughts seemed to be deafening loud…
It had been one night he'd been sleeping in this bed, in this house, but this bed already felt like his own bed and this house like his home. It felt like this because of John, because he made it his home. Deep relief had flooded him when he saw John standing there to take him home and again the second they stepped into this house. Randy knew very well that it shouldn't be like this, that home should be with his family, not with John. But this night had shown him that John was right, that he shouldn't care about what people think is normal, wrong, weird or however one wanted to call it as long as it felt right.
And this… felt right. It felt so damn right.
But John's reserved behavior scared him somehow, even if the older man had said that it was going to be alright. He was scared that it wouldn't be again like it had been the past weeks. He was scared that he couldn't make up for hurting John. And then there was Phil and what he'd said at the phone. He wasn't toying with John. At least not intentionally. But maybe to John it felt like he was… Absentmindedly Randy splayed his arms a bit, fingers digging into the soft blanked. The bed felt so empty… without John. The place beside him wasn't supposed to feel this empty but he had gotten so used to having his friend beside him that every fiber in his body was craving for his closeness.
"Johnny…" he breathed, closing his eyes, but the sound was swallowed by the thick quietness of the house.
Randy's mind drifted to Phil. There had been an odd expression shining in his eyes as they stepped into the house, as his eyes fell on John, almost as if he was feeling more for him. And the way John had answered his gaze… Could it be that John… was in love with Phil? The idea seemed to be absurd at the first glance. Thinking that Phil might love a man was one thing. But John Cena, being in love with a man? On the other hand… John had told him that there was someone he was in love with and telling that person would destroy everything. It would fit, wouldn't it, if he thought that revealing his feelings to Phil would destroy their friendship? But again, Phil seemed to feel the same way and that meant that… there was a chance for them.
Randy's eyes flew wide open as he felt a stinging pain in his chest.
No.
He couldn't lose John to Brooks. No way he could, would let that happen. At the mere thought he felt his heart speed up and it was ridiculous, wasn't it, because he had no fucking idea why this was happening to him and how it could happen at all. It was John's life and it was his damn right to be in love with Phil and be in a relationship with him if Phil was feeling the same. So why was everything in him screaming at that thought? Why did it hurt? It couldn't really be…it? This was so damn confusing… Taking a deep breath he gazed over to the door and told himself to calm down and that he couldn't be sure if he was right with his assumptions concerning John and Phil. To be sure he either had to wait and see or ask John.
Again he listened into the darkness and maybe if he closed his eyes and focused enough, he would hear the sound he'd come to love. That soft breathing. Faintly he noticed a scent invading his nostrils, a well-known scent that created a warm feeling within his chest and it emanated from his pillow.
John…
He turned a bit onto his side and buried his nose in the pillow, inhaling deeply and with a soft sigh on his lips he felt the warmth spread… And for a few moments he felt good and at ease. But then… he remembered the last night and the way John had held him. And he wanted that again.
"Fuck…"
The word was muttered into the pillow. It wasn't getting any better, was it? Cursing under his breath he pushed himself into a sitting position and inched to the edge of the bed, where he crawled into the wheelchair, not without effort and once or twice the fucking thing threatened to keel over. But after a few straining minutes he managed to sit in it safely and thought that he should listen to John and try this more often and do more physio.
Moving the wheelchair over to John's room, he stopped a moment at the door and let his eyes sweep over the silhouette in the bed. After a moment he moved as quietly as possible closer until he was beside the bed. John was lying with his back towards Randy and the younger man could see a soft shiver rippling through his friend. And there it was, John's soft breathing. It was soothing to hear it. Again he let his eyes sweep over his friend and wished he could just crawl into the bed, even if it was only to sleep there without being held. He would at least be close. But it was clear that John hadn't wanted him being close tonight or else he wouldn't be lying here now, alone.
Maybe… sitting here for a while could do no harm, could it? Or feeling John without touching him? Just for a little while… Gingerly he reached out and placed his hand close to John's back, feeling the warmth that was radiating from him. It was as close as he could get to him and so, content with the moment he closed his eyes
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
Hearing John's voice when he was supposed to be sleeping made Randy almost jump out of his skin and he drew his hand back as if it was burned. With wide eyes he watched as John slowly turned over to face him, as he shifted to sit with his back against the headboard and stared at Randy with an expression on his face that made the younger man's heart drop. Exhaustion, sadness, defeat.
"Cat got your tongue?" John muttered as Randy kept looking at him silently.
Randy swallowed and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, I… didn't wanna wake you," he said then, apologetic.
"You didn't. I've been awake the whole time," John replied. "What do you want?"
Cringing at the still so very reserved way John was behaving the younger man folded his hands, resting them on his lap and his eyes fixed on them. He came here to be close to John without being noticed but now John had caught him and now… what? Tell him that he missed being close to him? That he felt strange and confused and that he didn't really know anymore what he was feeling at all when it came to his friend?
"Randy?"
Randy's eyes snapped up to John but only for a brief moment before he averted his eyes again.
"I didn't wanna bother you," Randy mumbled and put his hands onto the wheels of the chair to leave. "I'm sorry."
But just as he wanted to turn the wheelchair, John leaned forward and closed his hand around Randy's wrist, stopping him, making him look back to the older man and Randy's eyes spotted something that made his breath catch in his throat and his heart drop. It was there, right on John's chest and the angry red mark seemed to glow on the otherwise unmarred skin. Faintly he heard John repeating his question, asking him what he wanted, but his whole mind narrowed on that mark. It couldn't be what he thought it was. But it fucking was. A bite-mark. It was a fucking bite mark on John's chest. A hot sting ripped through him that robbed him of his breath as he realized that it could only have been Phil who…
No… nonono, no, that can't be, his mind cried.
"Is it…" Randy began, voice raspy and weak, because he didn't want it to be the truth… because he was afraid that it was the truth. "Is it Brooks?"
The grip on his wrist tightened a tad, before the fingers uncurled and the hand was drawn back.
"What? What are you talking about?" John asked as he leaned back again.
"You said that you're in love with someone," Randy asked, not caring that his voice was still raspy, still weak, because all he could think of was that the mark hadn't been there yesterday morning. "Is it Brooks?"