Author's Note: Okay, here is Chapter Two. I hope you guys like it. I'm still not sure what is going to happen to Randy (treatment wise, anyway). So, I'm going to have to do some research for the next chapter – so the update may take a little while longer. Please review! Thanks!
The Little Things
Rating: K+… possible language use and sexual content in future chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Home Improvement, its characters, ideas, storylines, etc. I wish I did, but I do not… that is just the way it is.
Chapter Two: The Little Things…
Randy rubbed his eyes with his hand and rolled over in the bed. Randy stared at the floor for a moment and thought about the upcoming day – then it hit him: he had cancer. You know when something really bad happens and then you wake up the next day and for a moment, just a moment, everything is okay. Then you realize something bad happened yesterday. Randy now hated that feeling.
Randy noticed that he was in different clothes than what he had fallen asleep in and that he was under the covers. His parents must have changed him while he was sleeping. He hopped down off the bed and stood there for a moment, did he want to go upstairs? After debating the issue for a few minutes, he began to walk up the stairs. What would his brothers do or say? Would they treat him differently? He opened the door at the top of the staircase and walked into the kitchen, bracing himself to be stared at like a monkey at a dinner party.
"Hey Randy," Brad said in the normal tone that he used every morning and Mark did the same. Randy gathered his eyebrows in confusion. Hadn't his dad told them? Didn't they care? "Milk?" Brad asked while holding the carton. Then Randy knew what happened, apparently his dad had told them not to treat his differently. "Well?" Brad asked raising his eyebrows when he noticed that Randy seemed to be in a daze.
Randy lifted his head from the floor, "Yeah." Or maybe they were acting the same on their own. Randy smiled at that thought. Brad handed him a glass as Randy walked over to the table. He set the glass down as he sat down in his normal spot next to Brad. Soon, Brad sat down, as did Mark, Randy's dad, and his mom. Randy silently ate the sand-dollar pancakes with flour chunks in them. Randy thought it was ironic that yesterday his mom made them to be nice. He now figured that he made them to make him feel better.
After breakfast, Randy walked down into the basement and sat down on his bed, thankful it was a Saturday. Randy didn't know what he would do when he went back to school. Would he go back to school? Or would they keep him out? A knock on Randy's sliding door interrupted his thoughts. Randy looked over at the door. Who was it, he thought, and did he want to talk to them. "Come in," he said.
The door slid opened to reveal Randy's older brother, Brad. "Hey," Randy heard Brad mumble. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.
"Sure," Randy said, scooting over on the bed to make room. Brad hopped up on the bed next to him. Once Brad did so, Randy lowered his head and looked at the hands that were resting on his lap, waiting for Brad to say something, but he never did. Brad put his hand on Randy's back and Randy continued to look down. Sure, it was strange. But, in that strange way, it was comforting. In the fifteen minutes that they just sat there, Brad had told Randy that he cared, and that he would be there, just by putting his hand on his back and being silent. Randy needed that.
After the fifteen minutes, Brad finally spoke. "You okay?" he asked.
Randy, still not looking up, shook his head 'yes'. Brad stayed there another five minutes; as if he knew that Randy was lying.
Finally, Brad spoke again. "Do you want to do something? We could play soccer," Brad said.
Randy looked up at his brother. "Yeah, that sounds like fun," this time, Randy wasn't lying. They hopped down off the bed and went up the stairs. Brad grabbed the ball from the chair by the door and they went outside and silently played soccer. It was probably the best game Randy had ever played with his brother. Just knowing that he had someone there who wouldn't cry or freak out over everything, made him feel better, a lot better.
After playing soccer for hours, Brad and Randy went back into the house and headed towards the couch. Brad turned on the TV. He didn't even ask what Randy wanted to watch, he never did. Randy was happy that he didn't start now. Randy wasn't even sure what they were watching, he was thinking. What was going to happen next to him? Was he going to have to have chemotherapy and loose his hair? Or maybe he wouldn't have to do anything like that. Maybe it would just be some shots, pills, and a surgery or two.
The time passed as Randy and Brad watched TV. Before Randy knew it, it was time for lunch. This meal, Randy noticed, wasn't as silent as the two previous ones. Mark talked about his choir practice and his dad talked about an idea for the show. This idle chit-chat that used to annoy Randy now made him joyful. It was kind of like all of the little things Randy used to take for granted or hate, he now enjoyed. To know that the world was still turning was a great reassurance.
Lunch passed, as did another hour, and Randy found himself walking into the garage. "Hey dad," he said. Randy's dad was working on the hot rod, as usual.
"Hey," his dad said back, looking up from the hot rod. "Do you want to help?" Randy nodded 'yes'. "Will you get me the box of nails over there," his dad said, pointing to the table with his head.
Randy walked around the hot rod and over to the table. He picked up the box and handed it to his dad. Randy never had a real interest in helping his dad with the hot rod before, but now he didn't mind.
"So, what are you thinking?" his dad asked him out of no where. Randy hadn't been expecting his dad to ask him a question like that. His dad never was one that was good with feelings.
Randy shrugged. "I don't know," he said. Randy was telling the truth. He didn't know what he was thinking. All of his feelings were conflicted. He was sad, angry, confused, and so many other things, he didn't even know what all of them were called.
Randy looked at his dad. His dad nodded and then looked at him. "Are you scared?" he asked him. Once again, Randy was caught off-guard.
Randy looked at the floor and thought about this question for a few moments. Out of all the things he had been feeling the past 12 hours or so, he wasn't sure if fear was one of them. When Randy didn't answer, he heard his dad say, "You don't have to answer that."
Randy looked at his dad again. "Are you scared?" he asked. If his dad was scared, maybe that meant that he should be scared, right?
Randy watched his dad. His dad slowly began to nod his head, "Yeah, yeah Randy, I am." Randy was happy that his dad had told him the truth. Randy took a step and filled the 1 foot gap that was in between him and his dad. Randy leaned into his dad and hugged him, and his dad hugged him back.
This was like seeing his dad cry. He had never seen his dad cry until they found out Randy had cancer. Never had Randy heard his dad admit that he was scared or fearful, until now. Something that the doctor had told his parents had made his dad cry. "Dad," Randy said, still in the hug, "what's going to happen?"