The Shitith Hath Hitith the Fan...ith
No, for real. At least for Randy. This one is pretty intense, and sad. Well, I hope it's decent... Enjoy.
Randy paced back and forth, his heart racing. How the fuck was he supposed to tell John that he got suspended? He bit his thumb, thinking about the best way to break the news. There would be a shouting match, that’s for sure. Hell, he would consider himself lucky if he got to stay in the same room as John tonight.
He took a seat on a chair in their hotel room, awaiting John’s return. John was out doing whatever it was he did during the day, and all Randy could do was wait. How in the hell was he supposed to tell him what really happened in the meeting? His head fell hard against the wall, “Fuck!”
Thirty minutes later, John was back, and he had brought dinner. ‘Oh, shit,’ Randy though.
“Hey, Randy,” John said, placing the food down on the desk, and going over to give him a kiss. Randy turned his head away, and John’s kiss landed on his cheek. “What is it?”
Randy ran his hands through his short hair, exhaling slowly. He had been waiting for this moment, for John to ask what happened. It certainly didn’t make it any easier. “Nothing.” Oh, yeah, like John would believe that one for a second. He needed to suck it up and throw it out there. Get it out in the open. Now. “So, what did you bring for dinner?” Great.
“Chinese. So, do you want to tell me what’s going on? Did something happen with your family, is everyone ok?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s not my family.”
“Oh, that’s good. So, how’d that meeting go earlier?” John asked, handing the box of brown rice over to Randy.
“Uh, well…” Randy stuttered out, shoveling a fork-full of food into his mouth. He chewed, knowing John hated it when people talked with their mouths full, giving him a little time to stall the inevitable. When he finally swallowed, he looked everywhere but at John and said, “Well, you know… This and that…”
“This and that? Which means?”
“Oh, you know,” Randy said, scratching his head. “Stuff.”
“Randy,” John said, getting annoyed, “what the fuck went on in that meeting? Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“I just… Got some time off…”
“Come again?”
“About two months worth of time…”
“Randy what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I got suspended.” There, he had said it. He told John, now, let the shouting commence. But it didn’t come. He thought for sure that John would yell and scream, but he didn’t. Why? “John? I’m so sor-”
“Just shut up.” He looked Randy in the eyes, and Randy couldn’t recall ever seeing that look of sheer disappointment on anyone’s face before.
“Just let me exp-”
“No, don’t.” John sat down in the chair Randy had been in when he first walked in. John shook his head back and forth in disbelief. He continued to sit, stone-faced, staring at Randy, the same look still in his eyes.
The room filled with a tense silence as John sat and stared, and Randy stood in front of him. He had fucked up royally, he knew that. So why isn’t John telling him that? Why isn’t John yelling? They had been angry with each other before, and it always ended with them trying to out yell each other.
That’s when Randy knew exactly why John wasn’t yelling. Yes, he was angry, but more than anything, he was disappointed. He was ashamed. “Do you want me to leave?” Randy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” John answered. Neither one had any idea how long they had stayed like that, frozen in their tableau, unable to move.
The only thoughts now that were running through Randy’s head were ones of what he would do once John left him. What the hell had John ever seen in an asshole like him, in a man that can’t behave and can blow up at the drop of a hat? Why would John want to stay with him after this?
All John was thinking was how disappointed he was. How could Randy have done something so idiotic that could lead to a sixty day suspension? He moved slightly, resting his elbows on his lap and dropping his head into his hands. He shook his head once more before he looked back up at Randy. He saw that Randy was about to speak again, and he held out a hand to silence him.
“I don’t want you spouting excuses at me. You fucked up. I don’t know what you did, and I don’t want you to tell me. Not yet. Not until I get this out. I don’t want you saying anything when I’m talking. I don’t think I have ever been so ashamed of anything in my life. Dammit, Randy, I can’t believe you would do anything so fucking stupid enough to get yourself suspended!” His voice was slowly rising in volume, and he now stood from the chair, and Randy took a step back.
“What the fuck were you thinking?! That you’re Randy Orton and you can do whatever the fuck it is you want and not have any repercussions? That you’re too fucking great to get in trouble for anything? Well, guess what, Randy, you got your fucking wake up call. You’re not above everyone, no, you’re not above anyone.” John took a deep breath, trying to steady out his voice and bring it back down to a normal volume. “Never in my life have I cared about anyone outside my family as much as you. Never. And this is what you go and do? You get yourself fucking suspended.”
Randy wished that John would get into his face, scream at him, call him a dumbass, call him an idiot. The last thing he wanted was for John to tell him that he cared about him, that he had been the biggest cause of disappointment in his entire life. He was close to tears.
“And I don’t want to start telling me that you’re sorry. Because you never should have done whatever the hell it was you did in the first place. I cannot fucking believe this. Did you even think about what this could mean for your future? No, obviously not. You live too much ‘in the now’ to care about how what you’re doing now can affect what happens to you later. God, Randy,” he said, taking another step closer, “I don’t understand.” John had to fight the urge to haul back and punch him, and it looked to him like Randy would be expecting that.
He wanted to shout at him, he wanted to hit him, but he knew that talking, showing him how disappointed he truly was would be far more humbling than the two of them screaming at each other. He could shout later, once Randy filled him in on all the details, but, for now, he had to keep his cool. He saw the tears now on Randy’s face, and all he wanted to do was reach out to him, to touch his face and wipe those tears away. Even through his anger and shame, it was still his first instinct to comfort Randy when he needed him. He turned his back to Randy; he had finished talking. That was when Randy started to fill him in on all the details leading to his suspension.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I first came in?” John asked after the minutes of silence that followed the explanation. He had since returned to his seat, and Randy remained standing.
“I was scared. I still am, God, John. I didn’t know how you would take the news.” He wiped the tears from his face before continuing, “I don’t know what to say.”
John’s reply was terse, “Then don’t say anything.” He paused briefly before adding, “Can you… I want some time to think. Alone.”
All kinds of emotion ran over Randy’s face: fear, sadness, anger, confusion. “You… You want me to leave?”
“Please.”
Randy turned for the door, pausing once before leaving, turning back to see if John would stop him. When he didn’t, he closed the door behind him and turned down the hall. He had no idea where he would go, if he could go back to the room later, what he would do until then. Actually, he knew exactly what he would do. Find a bar and get shit faced. Yeah, that sounded like a great idea.
Six hours later, Randy came fumbling back into the room only to find the light on and John still in the chair. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? My mother?” an obviously drunk Randy asked, his words slurring together.
“No, I’m your lover for the past four years, and your best friend for five. Dammit, Randy, what the hell is your problem? You get suspended for two months, and you think it’s all good to go out and get drunk? That won’t solve anything!” John said, standing up and getting in Randy’s face.
“Fuck you! I don’t need you fucking lecturing me about what I should do.”
“Shit, you reek. How much did you have? Christ, Randy, you’re acting like some immature high school kid!”
“Ooo, big fuckin deal.”
“You asshole! You tell me that you don’t need me lecturing you when you obviously don’t know how to handle yourself! Jesus, why don’t you try and grow the fuck up?” Now he was shouting. Now he was angry. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was that you did something else stupid? I was in here for six hours thinking that something had happened to you! I didn’t know if you were coming back, or not.”
Randy was rolling his eyes, the words going in one ear and out the other.
“Go take a shower, change your clothes and, shit, drink a fucking bottle of mouthwash. And you are not sleeping in the bed with me. I don’t care where you sleep, but you are not coming anywhere near me. Is that understood?”
Randy stood up straight, as straight as he could, and saluted John, adding a, “Yes, sir,” for as a further ‘fuck you.’ He left for the bathroom, flipping John off before shutting the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning after, Randy woke up with a splitting headache and a dim recognition of what happened the night before. He remembered leaving the hotel room; he remembered his first eight shots of tequila; he remembered John shouting at him, vaguely, but that was about it. He then noticed he had fallen asleep in the chair he had been in when he first saw John come in through the door. John. He looked at the bed and saw he was no longer in the room. He stood up slowly, trying not to worsen the headache. He grabbed his handy bottle of Tylenol and took four, gulping them all down with a swig of water. He decided to check downstairs first.
That was when he found John, sitting at a table, a bowl of Cheerios in front of him, growing soggy in the milk. It looked as though he hadn’t touched anything. “Hey, John,” he said, when he got closer to the table.
John looked up, relieved. “Hi.”
“Can I…?” Randy asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from John.
“Sure.”
“About last night-”
“I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I should have known you would do something like that.”
“I don’t really remember much… But, I… Shit.” Randy didn’t know how to say what had been on his mind, how to say that he feared that John wouldn’t want him back. “I thought you…”
“Thought I what?”
“I thought you might leave me,” Randy whispered across the table.
“God, Randy, you really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” He reached his hand out, taking Randy’s and lacing their fingers together. “Look, you seriously fucked up. I have no idea what you were thinking, but I am not, do you hear me, not going to leave you because of this.”
A small smile flitted over Randy’s face and he breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”
John grew serious, letting his hand slide free of Randy’s, “But, last night, you had me so worried. I tried calling you, and you didn’t pick up. I didn’t want to leave, just incase you came back. I can’t believe you actually thought that going out and getting trashed would be the best thing to do.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t even know if I was welcome back into the room,” Randy answered honestly.
“Looking back on it, like I said, I never should have let you go. You don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to common sense.” Randy glared at John, but John only shrugged, saying, “Don’t deny it, because you know it’s true.”
“I’m so sorry. For everything. For all the trouble I caused you. And I know you said last night that you didn’t want me to apologize because if I were truly sorry, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place, but damn, John, I have never regretted anything in my life this much. When you told me that you were ashamed, that you were disappointed in me, that you cared about me so much, shit…”
“Randy,” John started, “the reason I was, no that I am disappointed is because I care about you. I still love you, I still care about you, and you know I want everything in the world for you. But you cannot keep doing stupid shit, like destroying a fucking hotel room and smoking dope, because it will catch up with you. See yesterday for an example.”
“Always the voice of reason,” Randy said.
“I do what I can. Now, never do that again.”
Randy paced back and forth, his heart racing. How the fuck was he supposed to tell John that he got suspended? He bit his thumb, thinking about the best way to break the news. There would be a shouting match, that’s for sure. Hell, he would consider himself lucky if he got to stay in the same room as John tonight.
He took a seat on a chair in their hotel room, awaiting John’s return. John was out doing whatever it was he did during the day, and all Randy could do was wait. How in the hell was he supposed to tell him what really happened in the meeting? His head fell hard against the wall, “Fuck!”
Thirty minutes later, John was back, and he had brought dinner. ‘Oh, shit,’ Randy though.
“Hey, Randy,” John said, placing the food down on the desk, and going over to give him a kiss. Randy turned his head away, and John’s kiss landed on his cheek. “What is it?”
Randy ran his hands through his short hair, exhaling slowly. He had been waiting for this moment, for John to ask what happened. It certainly didn’t make it any easier. “Nothing.” Oh, yeah, like John would believe that one for a second. He needed to suck it up and throw it out there. Get it out in the open. Now. “So, what did you bring for dinner?” Great.
“Chinese. So, do you want to tell me what’s going on? Did something happen with your family, is everyone ok?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s not my family.”
“Oh, that’s good. So, how’d that meeting go earlier?” John asked, handing the box of brown rice over to Randy.
“Uh, well…” Randy stuttered out, shoveling a fork-full of food into his mouth. He chewed, knowing John hated it when people talked with their mouths full, giving him a little time to stall the inevitable. When he finally swallowed, he looked everywhere but at John and said, “Well, you know… This and that…”
“This and that? Which means?”
“Oh, you know,” Randy said, scratching his head. “Stuff.”
“Randy,” John said, getting annoyed, “what the fuck went on in that meeting? Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“I just… Got some time off…”
“Come again?”
“About two months worth of time…”
“Randy what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I got suspended.” There, he had said it. He told John, now, let the shouting commence. But it didn’t come. He thought for sure that John would yell and scream, but he didn’t. Why? “John? I’m so sor-”
“Just shut up.” He looked Randy in the eyes, and Randy couldn’t recall ever seeing that look of sheer disappointment on anyone’s face before.
“Just let me exp-”
“No, don’t.” John sat down in the chair Randy had been in when he first walked in. John shook his head back and forth in disbelief. He continued to sit, stone-faced, staring at Randy, the same look still in his eyes.
The room filled with a tense silence as John sat and stared, and Randy stood in front of him. He had fucked up royally, he knew that. So why isn’t John telling him that? Why isn’t John yelling? They had been angry with each other before, and it always ended with them trying to out yell each other.
That’s when Randy knew exactly why John wasn’t yelling. Yes, he was angry, but more than anything, he was disappointed. He was ashamed. “Do you want me to leave?” Randy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” John answered. Neither one had any idea how long they had stayed like that, frozen in their tableau, unable to move.
The only thoughts now that were running through Randy’s head were ones of what he would do once John left him. What the hell had John ever seen in an asshole like him, in a man that can’t behave and can blow up at the drop of a hat? Why would John want to stay with him after this?
All John was thinking was how disappointed he was. How could Randy have done something so idiotic that could lead to a sixty day suspension? He moved slightly, resting his elbows on his lap and dropping his head into his hands. He shook his head once more before he looked back up at Randy. He saw that Randy was about to speak again, and he held out a hand to silence him.
“I don’t want you spouting excuses at me. You fucked up. I don’t know what you did, and I don’t want you to tell me. Not yet. Not until I get this out. I don’t want you saying anything when I’m talking. I don’t think I have ever been so ashamed of anything in my life. Dammit, Randy, I can’t believe you would do anything so fucking stupid enough to get yourself suspended!” His voice was slowly rising in volume, and he now stood from the chair, and Randy took a step back.
“What the fuck were you thinking?! That you’re Randy Orton and you can do whatever the fuck it is you want and not have any repercussions? That you’re too fucking great to get in trouble for anything? Well, guess what, Randy, you got your fucking wake up call. You’re not above everyone, no, you’re not above anyone.” John took a deep breath, trying to steady out his voice and bring it back down to a normal volume. “Never in my life have I cared about anyone outside my family as much as you. Never. And this is what you go and do? You get yourself fucking suspended.”
Randy wished that John would get into his face, scream at him, call him a dumbass, call him an idiot. The last thing he wanted was for John to tell him that he cared about him, that he had been the biggest cause of disappointment in his entire life. He was close to tears.
“And I don’t want to start telling me that you’re sorry. Because you never should have done whatever the hell it was you did in the first place. I cannot fucking believe this. Did you even think about what this could mean for your future? No, obviously not. You live too much ‘in the now’ to care about how what you’re doing now can affect what happens to you later. God, Randy,” he said, taking another step closer, “I don’t understand.” John had to fight the urge to haul back and punch him, and it looked to him like Randy would be expecting that.
He wanted to shout at him, he wanted to hit him, but he knew that talking, showing him how disappointed he truly was would be far more humbling than the two of them screaming at each other. He could shout later, once Randy filled him in on all the details, but, for now, he had to keep his cool. He saw the tears now on Randy’s face, and all he wanted to do was reach out to him, to touch his face and wipe those tears away. Even through his anger and shame, it was still his first instinct to comfort Randy when he needed him. He turned his back to Randy; he had finished talking. That was when Randy started to fill him in on all the details leading to his suspension.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I first came in?” John asked after the minutes of silence that followed the explanation. He had since returned to his seat, and Randy remained standing.
“I was scared. I still am, God, John. I didn’t know how you would take the news.” He wiped the tears from his face before continuing, “I don’t know what to say.”
John’s reply was terse, “Then don’t say anything.” He paused briefly before adding, “Can you… I want some time to think. Alone.”
All kinds of emotion ran over Randy’s face: fear, sadness, anger, confusion. “You… You want me to leave?”
“Please.”
Randy turned for the door, pausing once before leaving, turning back to see if John would stop him. When he didn’t, he closed the door behind him and turned down the hall. He had no idea where he would go, if he could go back to the room later, what he would do until then. Actually, he knew exactly what he would do. Find a bar and get shit faced. Yeah, that sounded like a great idea.
Six hours later, Randy came fumbling back into the room only to find the light on and John still in the chair. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? My mother?” an obviously drunk Randy asked, his words slurring together.
“No, I’m your lover for the past four years, and your best friend for five. Dammit, Randy, what the hell is your problem? You get suspended for two months, and you think it’s all good to go out and get drunk? That won’t solve anything!” John said, standing up and getting in Randy’s face.
“Fuck you! I don’t need you fucking lecturing me about what I should do.”
“Shit, you reek. How much did you have? Christ, Randy, you’re acting like some immature high school kid!”
“Ooo, big fuckin deal.”
“You asshole! You tell me that you don’t need me lecturing you when you obviously don’t know how to handle yourself! Jesus, why don’t you try and grow the fuck up?” Now he was shouting. Now he was angry. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was that you did something else stupid? I was in here for six hours thinking that something had happened to you! I didn’t know if you were coming back, or not.”
Randy was rolling his eyes, the words going in one ear and out the other.
“Go take a shower, change your clothes and, shit, drink a fucking bottle of mouthwash. And you are not sleeping in the bed with me. I don’t care where you sleep, but you are not coming anywhere near me. Is that understood?”
Randy stood up straight, as straight as he could, and saluted John, adding a, “Yes, sir,” for as a further ‘fuck you.’ He left for the bathroom, flipping John off before shutting the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning after, Randy woke up with a splitting headache and a dim recognition of what happened the night before. He remembered leaving the hotel room; he remembered his first eight shots of tequila; he remembered John shouting at him, vaguely, but that was about it. He then noticed he had fallen asleep in the chair he had been in when he first saw John come in through the door. John. He looked at the bed and saw he was no longer in the room. He stood up slowly, trying not to worsen the headache. He grabbed his handy bottle of Tylenol and took four, gulping them all down with a swig of water. He decided to check downstairs first.
That was when he found John, sitting at a table, a bowl of Cheerios in front of him, growing soggy in the milk. It looked as though he hadn’t touched anything. “Hey, John,” he said, when he got closer to the table.
John looked up, relieved. “Hi.”
“Can I…?” Randy asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from John.
“Sure.”
“About last night-”
“I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I should have known you would do something like that.”
“I don’t really remember much… But, I… Shit.” Randy didn’t know how to say what had been on his mind, how to say that he feared that John wouldn’t want him back. “I thought you…”
“Thought I what?”
“I thought you might leave me,” Randy whispered across the table.
“God, Randy, you really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” He reached his hand out, taking Randy’s and lacing their fingers together. “Look, you seriously fucked up. I have no idea what you were thinking, but I am not, do you hear me, not going to leave you because of this.”
A small smile flitted over Randy’s face and he breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”
John grew serious, letting his hand slide free of Randy’s, “But, last night, you had me so worried. I tried calling you, and you didn’t pick up. I didn’t want to leave, just incase you came back. I can’t believe you actually thought that going out and getting trashed would be the best thing to do.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t even know if I was welcome back into the room,” Randy answered honestly.
“Looking back on it, like I said, I never should have let you go. You don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to common sense.” Randy glared at John, but John only shrugged, saying, “Don’t deny it, because you know it’s true.”
“I’m so sorry. For everything. For all the trouble I caused you. And I know you said last night that you didn’t want me to apologize because if I were truly sorry, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place, but damn, John, I have never regretted anything in my life this much. When you told me that you were ashamed, that you were disappointed in me, that you cared about me so much, shit…”
“Randy,” John started, “the reason I was, no that I am disappointed is because I care about you. I still love you, I still care about you, and you know I want everything in the world for you. But you cannot keep doing stupid shit, like destroying a fucking hotel room and smoking dope, because it will catch up with you. See yesterday for an example.”
“Always the voice of reason,” Randy said.
“I do what I can. Now, never do that again.”