A/N - This story involves Randy having an asthma attack , I do not assume to know everything about asthma but hope that there is no incorrect information included and nobody gets offended. On that note, I hope you enjoy this and let me know if you want me to write more..

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Breath of life

'Brad let go of his head!'

I can faintly hear my mothers voice, Brad's arm is wedged against my ear as he holds me in a vice like headlock against his chest. He is apparently ignoring her and tightens his hold on me, tilting his body backwards. I squeal as I feel my legs leave the ground and for the first time since we started fighting I panic. I kick my legs frantically as I try to gain a foothold on the carpet and regain my breath, which I am finding increasing hard to draw. I felt hot, like all the blood is rushing to my head and I hear my mother again.

She grabs hold of his arm 'Brad, I mean it stop it, he can't breath'.

Brad is only 12 but he is already pretty strong and she isn't able to pry his arm from around my neck.

The sudden familiar rasping sound from my throat apparently triggers something in my dad as he appears at my side in an instant and wrenches Brad away from me. I fall to the ground, the wind knocked out of me as I impact.

'Brad, what is the matter with you!' I had never heard my dad sound quite so angry 'for God's sake, you could've killed him'.

'Well tell him to stay away from my stuff!' Brad stuffs his hands in his pocket and starts towards the stairs.

My mums panicked voice stops him mid track as she calls for my dad 'Tim, he can't draw breath'.

My chest feels tight and I struggle for a few moments to expand my chest enough to fill it with some air, I gaze imploringly at my parents, who are hovering above me, asking them to do something.

'Randy, calm down - try to take a deep breath'.

I would've laughed had I been able to, what did they think I was trying to do??.

It was no good, I am starting to get dizzy as my body screams for some oxygen. I feel my dad's arm move behind my back as he lifts me to a sitting position, patting me gently on my back. 'Come on son, breath'.

'Brad go and get his inhaler'.

He runs upstairs and returns again a few seconds later with two inhalers in his hand 'I wasn't sure if it was the brown or blue one'.

My dad takes the blue one from him and holds it up to my mouth, I try to breath in the mist but I can't expand my chest enough to inhale it. I'm starting to really panic now and I flail my arms frantically, trying to get a grip on something.

My dad pins my arms to my sides and leans me even further forward, lifting the inhaler to my mouth once again. The position helps somewhat and I manage to finally take a small gulp of the medicine. The pressure on my chest lifts slightly and I grab the inhaler from my dad, taking another deep gulp. I silently thank my dad for paying attention during our previous visits to the doctor.

My dad draws in a shaky breath as he holds me against his chest 'way to go buddy, I think you've just given me my first grey hair - you ok now?'.

I nod briefly, not trusting my voice enough to speak yet. We sit there for a few more minutes, my dad rubbing my back gently and my mum hovering nearby with a glass of water she had just poured.

I inhale another puff from the inhaler and finally feel able to move from the floor, waving off my dad's supporting hand. Walking shakily to the sofa I sit heavily on the nearest cushion. My chest is still feeling pretty tight and it is hurting as I inhale.

My dad sits next to me 'are you sure you're okay?'.

I try to speak but cough suddenly, my chest rattling loudly.

He shares a concerned glance with my mother 'do you want to go to the emergency room?.

'No, I think I'm okay, I just need to sit here for a few minutes'.

They step away from me and turn around to face my brother who has been hovering nervously behind the sofa since dad broke us up. He edges forwards, holding his hands out in front of him 'look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him, I forgot about his asthma.'

'I'm sick of this, you know you are bigger and stronger than him, why do you have to take things so far?'.

'I said I'm sorry - it's been so long since he had an attack'.

My dad grabs his arm 'that's because he's been careful recently - and you trying to strangle him doesn't help'.

'He was in my room again, going through my stuff'.

'I don't care - I'm sorry Brad, you're grounded for the week'.

'What?'

'It looks like this is the only way you learn, you come straight home from school for the rest of the week and there will be no phone calls to friends'.

'What about him, is he going to be punished for what he did?'

'I think he's been punished enough don't you'.

He glares at me once before stomping upstairs.

I turn back around and take another puff of my inhaler, my throat stinging as it passes. I lean back against the back of the sofa and close my eyes, willing my body to calm down, my lungs are still rattling as I breath and I pray that this won't mean another trip to the emergency room.

I contemplate taking another dose of the medication but know that after four or five puffs if it hasn't worked I need something stronger. I take a gulp of the water from my mom as she holds it out and the cool liquid soothes my throat temporarily.

'Randy, your chest sounds bad, I think we should get you to the doctor'.

I shake my head and stand slowly 'No mom, honestly it's ok, I'm ok. Let me just lie down for an hour or so, if my lungs aren't better by then we can go'. I turn to face them both 'please, do make me go down the ER yet'.

They agree reluctantly and I am free to leave, I force a smile at them 'over-protective much??'. I grin at the impressions on their face and go down to the basement.

I collapse down on my bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I wake as several hours later, mom or dad have been down here to check on me at some point as I am now covered me with a blanket. I take a deep breath and am relieved that the rattling sound has diminished. I hear movement from above and head upstairs, surprised when I see that it is Brad moving around in the kitchen. He turns to look at me as I enter the kitchen, a look of concern flitting over his face 'look Randy, I'm sorry about earlier.'

I hold up a hand at him 'it's okay Brad, no harm done-'

He raises his eyebrows at me 'yeah, right, tell that to mum and dad..'.

'Where are they?'

'Upstairs somewhere'.

'So you're really ok?'.

I roll my eyes at him 'yes dad' I walk past him and sit on the couch, flipping on the TV 'give me a couple of years and then watch out!'.

He grabs his sandwich and sits next to me, elbowing me as he does 'yeah right, I'll remember that next time I'm pounding you'.

I grin up at him and elbow him back. We sit in silence for a few minutes before we hear mom and dad come downstairs and enter the room behind us. 'Hey guys'.

I can feel their gaze on me and turn to face them 'before you ask I'm fine'.

They nod 'good'

I grin as I see my mother fidget, her mothering instinct kicking in, I can see that she is just itching to cover me up with a blanket or something. 'Mom, calm down, I'm fine really'.

My dad puts an arm around her shoulders and steers her into the kitchen, grinning at us over his shoulder 'come on honey, let's find you something to burn for dinner'.

Brad and I grin and return our gaze to the TV.

Panic over.

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The end.