v.
"Hey. Don't I know you?" Randy says, in an Academy Sports & Outdoors on one Saturday afternoon.
It's probably rude to just single out a stranger in a store. Randy doesn't really care. Howard might care, if he were here, but he isn't, so.
"Um. Do you know me?" The stranger shoots back. He blinks at Randy curiously, maybe comfortably. He doesn't seem surprised at this confrontation.
Randy stops and thinks about where he could've seen this guy before. It's possible they went to high school together – does he remember any short Asian guys with spiky hair? Hmm.
It sounds plausible but it doesn't feel right.
Why? Why doesn't it feel right? Why is he making a big deal about any of this? Randy wants to just shake this off, wants to leave it alone.
He can't.
Surely a young guy in a casual red jacket and cargo pants isn't that memorable; surely there are hundreds of places around Norrisville Randy could've run into him before.
Randy concentrates hard and he gives himself a headache, trying desperately to remember. He's back to wanting that, wanting something again, even if it hurts. Eventually, though, he's forced to sigh and give it up. The whole thing remains as foggy as high school.
"Sorry, bro. Thought...thought you were someone else, I guess." Randy wants to hide, suddenly, away from those calm, unjudging eyes. Shouldn't the guy be mad? Randy would be mad, he thinks, if some stranger snapped at him that they knew each other and then, two minutes later, admitted it was all a big mistake.
Instead, Shorty flashes him a smile. Randy swears for a second he sees fangs, but he blinks and they're gone.
"It's cool, man." Shorty shrugs. "Happens to me all the time. I guess I just have one of those faces, you know?"
This feels like the point in the conversation where they wave at each other and part ways, mildly inconvenienced but not irritated. Strangely, Randy doesn't want to let this go.
"I'm Randy." He pipes up. He wants this conversation to keep going. He wants closure, he wants to squint at the guy's face some more in case the memory comes back.
He wants to know that out of all the things he knows he's forgotten, out of all the sticking points that he's tried to remember, he won't have given up on all of them. He needs to know he figured out at least one of them. Not that he tried – that he actually did it.
"I'm Jake." Jake seems amiable enough to continue talking. "I was just here...looking for a new skateboard."
It doesn't sound like a lie. Jake even holds up the board as proof, the large monstrosity as red as his jacket.
But something happens inside – Randy's stomach clenches and it feels like a lie.
Still though. He's confronted the poor guy enough for one day, he thinks guiltily.
"Yeah, I'm looking for a new pair of running shoes. Mine kinda got – er, torn up."
Somehow, they both end up walking towards the shoe aisle. Randy doesn't tell him to go away.
"So...are you a college student?" He asks.
"Yeah. Freshmen."
Randy grins.
"Me too! Absolutely no clue what I want to major in yet, but yeah. Freshmen at NCC." He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "Turns out, you don't actually have to know for the first year – you can tell the advisor any random major and just change it later."
Jake laughs.
"Well I'm getting my bachelors in Folklore and Mythology, but yeah. Freshmen can get away with that."
"Mythology?" Randy says, frowning. He knows he sounds incredulous but he can't help it. "Like unicorns and stuff? That's a real degree?"
Jake gives him a glance that's part offended, part disbelieving, and part..something else. Worried maybe?
"You know your town has literally years of stories about monsters and an eight hundred year old ninja, right?" He asks, like Randy is slow.
Randy scoffs.
"Well, I mean. That's different. The Norrisville Ninja is real, for starters."
Somehow, that makes Jake flinch.
"You aren't..." He looks uncertain. "Are you messing with me right now?"
"Sorry, dude. Didn't mean to offend your unicorns or anything. I-I mean, what do I really know – they might be real." Great, now Randy has shoobed Jake's feelings. How was he supposed to know Jake took it seriously?
...Maybe because the guy is getting an intensive degree in 'unicorns and stuff'? Crap, yeah, this is definitely on Randy.
"Sorry." He says again. "I didn't mean to be insensitive."
"No, it's – it's okay."
Randy pulls down several boxes and tries shoes on in silence, Jake sitting on the bench opposite him.
"So...you really don't know what you wanna do?" Jake asks. It doesn't feel like an accusation. It feels like a peace offering.
"I dunno..." Randy tries to put it in words. "I – I know all the things that I like to do. I like video games and I like running and I like movies with Grave Puncher in them. Lately, I think...I think I like fighting too."
"Fighting? Like, real world fighting?" Jake cuts in, surprised. Randy doesn't blame him. He didn't think he'd be into fighting either.
"Yeah. And lately, I've been getting into books. Don't tell Howard, but I think the Japanese language is the cheese." Too late, Randy realizes that Jake doesn't know who Howard is, but that doesn't stop the guy from laughing anyway.
"Looks only slightly less terrible than Chinese to me." Jake says, eyes twinkling with good humor.
"Yeah?" Randy tilts his head.
Jake nods, lips curled up in a closed-mouth smile.
"My Gramps taught me all the good Chinese swears and I figured that's all I really needed to know. All those characters kinda freak me out."
Randy holds back a laugh.
"Man, that's nothing. Japanese has three alphabets."
Jake doesn't fight him on that. Randy takes the moment to slip on a different pair of shoes, squeezing his toes in their new environment.
Thinking more about what Jake asked, Randy feeling something building within him.
A small, delicate truth.
"I think...I wanna help people." Randy says quietly. He's never said this aloud to anyone, not even to Howard. Something about Jake being a stranger makes this easier to admit – Jake doesn't have any past Randy to compare this one to. He's less likely to laugh, or come up with a million examples to counteract Randy's admission.
Jake doesn't tell him no, you don't really wanna help people, doesn't say, how can you, video game addict solid-C student, ditzy Randy Cunningham, ever help anyone?
He just says,
"So why don't you?"
"I mean, I haven't found anywhere that offers that degree plan?" Randy shrugs.
Jake hmms. Not demeaning, just thoughtful.
"Maybe," His tone is gentle. "You should think more specifically. People help others everyday in all kinds of jobs. Even people without jobs can help or save lives, when they're in the right place and at the right time."
Randy is speechless. Well, yeah, of course anyone can help, but...anyone can help people? Anyone?
Even...even him?
"Randy, you don't even have to go to school if you don't want to."
No one has ever said that to him. No one ever said the words, you absolutely have to go to college, either, but it had been strongly implied.
But...but what would he do? He's been in school one way or another for – for all his life. What do people do all day without it?
What are they supposed to do?
What can't they do? Another part of him wonders, and its excited.
"...do they fit?"
"Hmm?" Randy is still lost in new possibilities. The good and the bad.
Jake helpfully points down.
"The shoes. Do they fit?"
Randy glances at his feet. They are the black Nike's with vibrant red highlights. They'd called to him – something about the color scheme – and it'd felt a little like how Ninja's book had tugged at him.
That should've been enough reason to put them back – if the book is too old for him, surely the shoes don't belong to him either.
And yet...
"They do. They fit."
He likes them. He doesn't want to let go, not this time. Not completely.
And maybe that's okay.
Something important settles in his chest at that realization, at that decision. He removes the shoes, puts them in their box, and clutches them tight, sending Jake a grin.
He's going to get them. And that's okay.
They stand together, at some imaginary signal, and Randy bites at his lip.
They can't stay at the store all day together. Jake probably has other places he needs to be. He might not actually wanna get that red skateboard.
But Randy doesn't want this to be goodbye – not forever.
Randy is rusty enough at this (the making friends business) that he almost just blurts out, hey wanna be friends. He's pretty sure that's not quite how it's supposed to go – at least, not after you've left kindergarten.
It scares him, a little. He's made one, maybe two, possibly three friends in the last eighteen years. He honestly doesn't remember how to do this.
Luckily, Jake does it for him.
"Hey, man, you wanna – exchange numbers? Maybe hang out some time?"
Randy lets out a breath of relief and grins.
"That would be the super bruce cheese."
A/N: Jake knew beforehand that Randy lost his memory, either by Danny giving him a heads up or some other magical means. Since Jake's dealt with amnesiac friends before (cough Rose cough) and since he knew a little bit what to expect, he wanted to pop down to Norisville see how Randy was doing.
Also I don't have anything specific for what Randy is going to do with his life, but I think he'd definitely end up somewhere that he could help people. I think he'd be a good self-defense teacher or something along those lines.
Thanks for reading! Leave me a review, tell me what you think!