Context: In this AU, Randy, Keith, and Troy opt not to crash Billiot’s party. Randy, visibly affected by recent events, creates a tense atmosphere. The night unfolds as they return to Keith’s home, each absorbed in their thoughts. Exploring the dynamics of their friendship.

Troy gripped the steering wheel with both hands and focused as hard as he could on the road. He had never driven a car as nice as Keith’s before. Its sophisticated controls and superior design made it remarkably easy to drive. It felt almost as though he was gliding or sliding down a smooth road of freshly policed ice.

But Troy couldn’t enjoy the experience too much because he knew that if he got even the slightest scratch on the Keith’s car, he would be dead meat. He had expected that Keith would be a tough backseat driver, but instead, the latter sat in the passenger seat without saying a word. He occasionally glanced at Randy in the backseat out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing to neither him nor Troy.

Both Randy and Keith’s faces were flushed. Troy remembered the last time he saw them drunk. They were hanging out on a Friday night: playing beer pong and blasting party music in his garage. It had been fun and epic. Nothing like this. Troy was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
He broke the silence inside the car as he drove out of Billiot’s neighborhood and towards Keith’s cul-de-sac.

“Hey, what do you guys want for dinner?” Troy asked.

“I don’t care,” Keith mumbled.

Troy waited for a response from Randy. He didn’t get one. The trio stayed quiet until Troy parked Keith’s car in his driveway. After Troy got out of the driver’s seat, Keith stood in his way. He pointed to the set of keys in Troy’s hand and held his own hand out for them.

“You’re welcome, dick,” Troy scoffed, dropping the keys into Keith’s palm.

Keith shoved the keys back inside his pocket and entered the code that opened the back door into his house. He marched straight to the kitchen, filled a tall glass of water with the faucet over the sink, and chugged it down. Once it was empty, he filled the glass to the brim again and gulped down all of the water.

Troy marched past him both and into the living room. He plopped himself down on the sofa with a grunt and picked up the tv remote along with one of the game controllers that had been lying on the coffee table. Next, Troy switched the tv on, followed by Keith’s Playstation, and began scrolling through Keith’s library of games.

After Keith drank his third tall glass of water, he felt the fog inside his head get thinner. He set it down inside the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his fist.

“That’s better,” he sighed quietly.

Keith turned his head at the sound of a row of bottles clanking against the refrigerator door after Randy pulled it open. Randy withdrew a bottle of lager, holding it by the neck. He kept his eyes down, towards the floor.

Keith stood in Randy’s way, blocking him from getting to the drawer beneath the counter that had bottle openers inside.

“Put that back, Randy,” he ordered.

Randy’s narrowed eyes flicked upward towards Keith. When he reached for the drawer handle, Keith grabbed the lower part of the bottle. This made Randy step back.

“Stop, Keith!” Randy snapped.

“No, Randy, you stop!” Keith shot back. “I don’t want you puking anywhere in my house.”

Randy paused. Keith seized his chance to snatch the beer bottle from Randy and return it to the fridge.

Randy huffed and joined Troy in the living room, sitting on one of the armchairs next to the sofa. Troy, absorbed in a Call of Duty campaign, barely noticed him.

“Let me know when you want to play, okay?” he offered.

“Mm-hm,” Randy nodded, propping his head up with his right hand.

Keith set a tall glass of water on the coffee table in front of Randy. Randy, silently grateful, picked it up and took a long sip. He leaned his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes.

Keith’s enormous Maine Coon cat, Neptune, padded silently into the room. He arched his spine and rubbed himself up against Randy’s legs. Randy gently scratched Neptune’s right ear, and Neptune wasted no time in leaping up into Randy’s lap. The tomcat laid down in it, purring as Randy stroked his thick, silky, blue-cream fur.

He let his mind go blank, continuing to pet Neptune and feel the soothing vibrations coming from him, barely hearing the rapid-fire gunshots from the video game.

Keith slipped outside into his backyard. Randy drank the rest of his water before following him onto his luxurious deck, which was made of polished white concrete and gray stone, making it look like something from a Greek island. It gleamed in the soft, dimmed outdoor lights.
When Randy saw Keith and smelled the air around him, he scowled.

“Ugh,” he growled.

Keith turned around, exhaling smoke that mixed with the smoke from his lit cigarette as it wafted up into the night sky.

“What?” Keith asked.

“You’re smoking. I hate that shit.”

Keith took another drag.

“So, go back inside. I’ll join you and Troy in a few minutes.”

“Nah, I’m gonna stay out here for a little while, too.”

Randy rested his elbows on the low wall that overlooked the flower garden, standing merely a few feet away from Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes, lifted up the sole of his boot, and ground his cigarette against it, snuffing it out.

“Thanks,” Randy said.

Neither of them knew what to say next. It was a quiet night, and the only noises they could hear were the sounds of cars driving past them in the roads nearby. Neptune pawed at the sliding glass door, and Keith hurried back to let him outside. Randy bent down to pet him again, but Neptune ignored him this time. The tomcat prowled into the shadows, sniffing the ground and air, searching for prey.

“Don’t run away, okay?” Randy told the cat with a low, muffled voice. “Don’t leave.”

He had folded his arms on top of the wall and was resting his head on top of them.

“He always comes back, man, chill,” Keith assured Randy with a slight chuckle.

He toyed with the box of cigarettes inside his pocket, wanting to take one out and light it.
Randy let out a shuddering sigh. His face was illuminated by the LED lights that had been embedded into the concrete floor. There was no tension in his face, but he did not look relaxed or tired. He looked defeated.

He didn’t look like Randy.

“You’re never gonna talk to that little shit again, are you?” Keith inquired.

“Who, Jeffrey?”

“Yeah.”

Randy shook his head.

“I guess not.”

“Good. He was never worth your time. If he’s not cowering behind his brother, he’s cowering behind Billiot. And that’s how he would have used you, too. He would have just made you his new shield. That pathetic little shit can’t stand on his own two legs. Makes me sick.”

Keith leaned back and rolled his head from one shoulder to another. Randy faced away from Keith and inhaled sharply.

“Oh, shit…” Keith thought. “He’s not-”

Randy started to sob. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Meanwhile, raucous sounds of Call of Duty prevented Troy from hearing their conversation.

“Dude…” Keith began. “Don’t cry because of him. He’s definitely not worth that…”

“I needed him…” Randy moaned, squeezing a fistful of his own hair.

Keith’s jaw dropped.

“What? How?”

Randy pressed the heels of his palms into his stinging eyes.

“He wasn’t like you. He wasn’t like anyone I ever knew. He was…he was sweet.”

Randy sank down to the ground, with his back against the wall. He was trembling. Randy always looked big and strong to Keith, but now, curled up and shaking, he seemed small. And fragile.

Then Keith realized that Randy wasn’t fragile. He was broken.

“I never thought I could have anyone like that in my life. I would’ve done anything for him. And I tried to show him that…but…I’m not Billiot. So, I’m not good enough for him, and he didn’t choose me…and I’m never gonna…I’m always gonna…”

Goddammit, Goddammit, Goddammit. Keith hated this. He hated Jeffrey. He didn’t want to ever see him again, but he also wanted to run over him with his car. Twice.

But that wasn’t what Randy needed, was it?
Keith squatted down next to Randy.

“What?” he asked. “Keep talking.”

Randy swallowed.

“I’m never gonna find anyone like him again. And I’m always gonna be alone. And my stupid life is always gonna be fucking garbage. I’m nothing.”

Keith felt a long, cold thorn stab his heart. No, he wasn’t sweet like Jeffrey. But he had been there for Randy. And despite all the times Keith had been there for him, Randy still thought his life was garbage? Everything Keith had done for him hadn’t been enough to make him feel like it wasn’t?

That hurt. For a split second, he wanted to walk away.

Maybe he would have, if he hadn’t realized that this was kinda how Randy felt. Like he just wasn’t enough and never would be, no matter how hard he tried.

So, now what? What did he need? Maybe whatever he needed was what Randy needed, too.

He needed to close the door, try to forget it, and move on. Do something fun. That was how he coped with shit.

But that wasn’t an option for Randy. Not yet, at least.

Randy needed…someone to be sweet to him. Keith wasn’t good at that.

But for Randy, he could try. Randy was worth it.
Keith placed his hands on both sides of Randy’s face and gently tilted his head upward. He rubbed the tears he could reach away with his thumbs.

“Keith…?” Randy quavered.

Slowly, Keith closed the distance between himself and Randy, kissing his forehead before giving him a hug. Randy immediately reciprocated, feeling like he had been thrown a life preserver after falling off a ship in the middle of a hurricane.

“Why…?” he asked.

“’Cause you deserve it. Don’t let anyone or anything make you feel like you don’t.”

Randy hugged Keith a little tighter.

“Thank you.”

After they stood up, Randy hugged Keith again.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”