Summary: Randy thinks back to his relationship with Bob and contemplates what that relationship is. Takes place before the book/Bob is alive. A bit angsty.
Warnings: Mentions of drinking/being drunk
Word Count: 626
A/N: First time writing a fic in like... two years. Listened to a lot of Chappell Roan writing this so. I'll post this on ao3 later too. Title comes from Casual by Chappell Roan.
Randy stared closely at the other boy as if he was trying to study him, memorize every curve of his lips and flutter of his eyelashes, commit it all to memory. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at his... friend? No, they were more than friends, surely. Friends don't sneak off with you into empty rooms during parties, friends don't send a thousand shocks throughout your body with every touch they give you, and friends don't kiss you like it's breathing. But then what were they? Boyfriends? God, Bob Sheldon would never call Randy his boyfriend. Besides, Bob was still dating Cherry. He loved her, and made sure to remind Randy of the fact. And a boyfriend is more than a kiss, a boyfriend takes you out on dates, and buys you gifts, and holds your hand. And Bob could never do that for Randy.
The closest they ever got was at the drive-in, when instead of chasing after Cherry and Marcia, who had ditched them once again, they sat together in Bob's Mustang. "Might as well watch the movie, we’re already here." Bob had told him. They watched the movie together, in complete, comfortable silence aside from random comments and jokes mumbled to one another. But something in Randy couldn't just appreciate what he had. He found his hand inching over to Bob's, focused more on Bob's reaction than the movie screen. He had only managed to rest his pinky on top of Bob's, but even that was enough to make his body feel like it was on fire. It was one thing to drunkenly make out at some party, hiding away from prying eyes, but here was so much different. They were surrounded by people, and for some reason, just trying to hold Bob's hand felt so much more intense than any sloppy kiss they had ever shared. Maybe because they were so much more sober now, they were conscious of their actions. Or at least couldn't use alcohol as an excuse. Not that they hadn't been drinking, but it definitely wasn't as much as they had then.
There had been times when Randy had questioned just how drunk Bob had been when he dragged him off during a party, having seen him weaning the same bottle the entire night. But he wouldn't bring it up, hell, Randy himself was usually much more sober than he let on when they were together. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie, not let Bob catch his staring, but he still felt Bob's gaze from the corner of his eye. Bob didn't move, didn't pull away, but Randy didn't dare move closer. This touch alone was a lot. It wasn't until they heard the sound of some of their buddies approaching, obnoxious drunken laughter and loud comments bouncing back and forth. Bob quickly pulled away, the movement was subtle so as not to draw any attention to what had happened in the moments before, but he drew his hand away so fast it was like Randy had burned him. Bob leaned against the door of the car, away from Randy, and Randy felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. But hey, he should've expected this.
So yeah, Bob wasn't his boyfriend, they were nowhere close to that. But calling him his friend felt like he was ignoring everything that had happened between them, every little moment they shared. And maybe he should. Maybe he was just trying to make himself believe in something that wasn't really there. Maybe it all meant nothing, and he should stop trying to turn it into something. Bob and Randy were only friends, that's all they'd ever be, and no amount of drunken makeouts could change that.
