Update! :)
Illusion
Illusion, by dictionary definition, is something that deceives by producing a false or misleading impression of reality.
To Randy Orton, illusion's the thing that was keeping that fake smile imprint on his face as he watches John Cena hold onto a tiny child by his side and curly blonde hair falling to her shoulders and that bloated face is just too cute and Randy's eyes are tracing along that beautiful, soft and delicate rosy shade that smears across the child's cheeks as she giggles, letting the tiny hand daub across the white paper, and another giggle escapes the girl's throat as she looks up at a cheerful Cena. "I like this color! I like it a lot!" She waves the fuchsia crayon around in the air. She stares at John's face, "what color do you like?"
"I like green," John responds, taking a vivid crayon from its set and drawing a childish line, "I like my line." He grins.
"Hey! My lines are better!" she smears a not too well drawn line on the paper and pushes John playfully and John pretends to be weak and falls down, making the girl giggle, a silly laugh, "I hurt John Cena!"
"Don't tell the press!" He chuckles softly, hugging the girl close to him and Randy can't help but let that fake smile stretch as he sits down next to both of them, making the girl steps back towards John, sudden fear overtaking her eyes. John shakes his head, "what's wrong, sweetie?"
"He's a bad man." She sniffs, pressing her head on John's chest and Randy's smile turns into a tight line as he stands up and is ready to leave before John takes Randy's hand, making Randy twist his head and look at the welcoming John, the delicateness of his pink lips are puffy with that softness, and Randy has to retain himself from leaning in for a kiss from him as Randy sits down next to John and the blonde girl.
"He's my best friend," John says, taking Randy by his shoulder and pushing him towards John's body and Randy restrains himself from letting tears fall because of the complete delicateness and life and lividness that John has and in which Randy completely and utterly lacks, and in that moment, Randy feels dizziness overwhelm him as he presses his head on John's chest.
"Randy?"
The girl slowly steps Randy's figure, "is he gonna be okay?"
"Yeah," John smiles, brushing his hand against Randy's back, "he's gonna be okay. My best friend. He's just sick."
"Oh, I hate it when I'm sick!" the girl shrieks, giggling softly, and then touching Randy's face, "maybe Johnny can read Randy a bedtime story! That always makes me happy!" Randy's about to cry and such a oblivious child and part of him is just waiting to scream that he has cancer and that's not as easy as a cold that will put him in bed for a week but he keeps his lips shut tight.
"Randy is very sick actually. He doesn't have time for a bedtime story. He keeps watching reruns of Friends with me," Randy pushes him away in a playful manner and John pushes him back down and the cheerfulness of his face fades when he sees that Randy's cringing in pain, holding onto his arm, and groaning. "Ran?"
"I'm fine. It's-" before Randy can finish his own sentence, he stands up and runs to the nearest trash can, kneeling down towards the bin, he throws him violently, feeling his throat burn with acid and bitterness as he breathes in, having John walk towards Randy, and holding onto his shoulder. "I'm fine, John."
"You just threw up! You're not fine."
"I ate too much."
John's serious face slowly crumples into a softer look, "told you not to eat all those cupcakes in the cab!"
"I was hungry." Randy burps softly which causes him to cup a hand on his mouth and both of their eyes lock each other, both of them suddenly bursting into laughter as Randy stands up, still slightly dizzy and he holds onto John for support as he stands up, both of their eyes look around the children that are now staring directly at him and Ted steps towards them, "looks like they've got new friends, don't they?" Ted chuckles.
"Because we're so awesome," John responds, grinning and Randy can't help but want to trace his fingers along the dimples of his cheeks, so cute, and he pushes the need away, locking his eyes back towards Cody who's still holding onto his crutches, and watching around, a gleam in his turquoise eyes, and a genuine smile on his face that makes Randy feel envious.
I can't even smile right.
"Let's go back to coloring," Ted instructs, "Cody, go back on your stick figure eating a hamburger thing."
"HEY! That is not a stick figure! That's you!"
"Jeez, Cody, I'm not that thin! And I don't like cucumbers in my burger!"
The two descend towards their round, red table which makes Randy and John walk towards their own table, Randy takes a clean, white paper and John takes a black crayon from the set, and both of their hands move as John's eyes lock at Randy's drawing. "Now, that's a hot stick figure, who's that?"
"…it's you."
"Ahhhh," John says, taking in the horribly drawn picture in front of him and a chuckle escapes his throat, "my favorite number is 54. Not 45."
"Same thing."
"No."
"Same thing."
"No."
"Same-"Randy clutches onto his stomach again, feeling the acid burning and sloshing around in the walls of his thin skin, "I'm never eating cupcakes ever again."
"I bet you'll eat cupcakes on the ride to the cab."
"I will not."
"Yes, you will."
"No, you won't."
"Yes, you will."
"No, you won't."
"No, I won't."
"Yes, I will!"
When Randy realizes what he's just said, he covers up his hand on his mouth, as John chuckles and brings Randy close to him, as Randy curls up in John's lap. "Used to it, aren't you?" John asks, and Randy slowly nods his head. "When the kids ask, we'll say that Randy's still sick from his two dozen cupcakes."
"Was only a dozen!"
"Still too much," he kisses Randy's earlobe and looks back at Ted and Cody who are fighting over a crayon, both of them pushing each other as they lung for the blue crayon and that makes them both chuckle as tiredness replaces humor in Randy's body. "You need to go to bed?"
"Yup."
"Nap time. Let's go get you some cookies and milk and a teddy bear to go along with you."
"Assclown."
"There are kids around here!" John reminds him, covering Randy's mouth but Randy knows that John doesn't really mind cussing as long as it's light and muffled and Randy moves his head, looking around at the colorful area, where the children are drawing anywhere they can, some markers are smearing on the walls, children fighting over crayons (including Cody and Ted who are now running around a couple of girls for their blue crayon) and some are just drawing silently with their new colors for the first time in their lives. Most of them are seven, nine and even ten to twelve around here.
Randy softly snuggles in John's body but when they hear a voice, they are revved back into the world around them. "Hey," a boy starts, staring at him with wide eyes, "don't you like call your type gay?"
"Our type?" John responds. "Hey, hey, buddy, you got it all wrong. We're just best friends."
"Sure," the fifteen year old responds, rolling his eyes, looking at a similar smaller boy who's probably his brother or cousin or another relative and soon, "you people are disgusting. How does it feel like to stand into millions of your fans and lie to them every day about who you are? Disgusting."
"Hey, I can be whatever I want. If they don't like me because I'm me then they're not really my fans."
"Cliché."
"Doesn't matter." John twists his head down onto Randy's body who's holding onto the thick fabric of John's Bermuda jeans, looking out into space, the sadness burning on his face as he takes those moments just thinking of those words that the boy's just said about his John, this is effecting his career—"So what if I may be gay? So what?"
"Disgusting," the boy repeats, "how dare you live with yourself knowing that you're disobeying your own religion?"
"Why do you care?" John's face is too hard and rigid and he doesn't seem to care as he takes Randy's face as John leans down to capture Randy's lips into a kiss and Randy's ready to pull away but John's the one that pulls away, so soft and passionately, caring and loving and he hears the sound of the child making gagging noises.
"Hey, why don't you just leave John alone?!" Randy finally exclaims, standing up and almost falling back down as John catches him, holding onto his sweetheart, as both of their bodies brush against each other, electricity burning in their spines.
"Randy…"
"Just leave me alone!"
Randy stomps out of the building, all the children teary-eyed as John rushes after Randy's silhouette, leaning down towards the black trash can as Randy vomits into the trash can, violently and aggressively and John runs towards him, holding onto Randy's shoulder, "this is not okay."
"John, I'm fine-"
"No, you're not." John takes Randy's body into his arms, hearing Randy's shallow, sharp breathing as he holds onto John's shoulders, both of their bodies pressing against each other.
"Let's take you to the hospital."
"I'm fine! I don't need to-" Randy's throat is burning and his eyes are ready to roll in the back of his head and he leans down towards the trash can and vomits again, feeling as if there's nothing left in his body anymore, he stands up, dizzy and he's ready to fall but John catches his arm before he falls.
"Randy, I don't want you to get hurt. Let's take you to the hospital."
In around an hour later, Randy lays on his white cot and he doesn't even remember the words that are flowing out of the doctor's mouth but he's staying here a while, he's so tired and John sits beside him and Randy feels something cover his head as he feels the cold fabric of John's hat on his head and Randy's head twists towards him.
I love you.
Randy shakes his head. He can't love John. He's incapable of loving anyone and everyone knows it, especially his suffering, bleeding heart.
I love you.
John stares into Randy's eyes but he doesn't say those three words that are ready to flow out of the tip of his tongue.
"Randy, I need to tell you something."
"John, I need to tell you something."
Both of them stare at each other.
"You first."
"You first."
Randy sighs, "I-I-"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. "I need another pillow. What were you going to say?"
John stares at him. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. "That I want a bite to eat and was wondering if you wanted anything."
Randy flops to his side, "that kiss…meant nothing right?"
"Yeah." That kiss meant everything to him, it was passionate and slow, filled with love and friendship, livid and vivid, it had every emotion they could ever want to capture…it was just perfect. He bit down his lip and he knew that he couldn't risk making Randy go through all that pain again.
In the end, we're all living in an illusion of perfection in reality.
Yeah, that's just about it. I hope I have longer chapter. The next one is 'Family'.
;) With my twist, of course.
X Sam.