You continue visiting him regularly after school.

Over the next week, this pattern of you heading over to your Auntie's apartment to hang and play video games continued. Though now that Randall was working, you'd head home first, after school was finished, dumping all of your crap and then grabbing a bus from there. Which thankfully was slightly quicker - if only by fifteen minutes. This way you could rock up at his after he'd also returned home and gotten himself changed, and immediately start shooting the shit about how each others day went, before jumping on the XBox for a few hours or watching a movie.

Though nothing of interest had really happened at school during that time, it being pretty much business as usual, Randall's days seemed slightly more eventful. He told you about the time he'd nearly fallen asleep during some important meeting. How he'd completely spaced out a few times on what certain things meant and had to pretend his head was still a little fuzzy from the accident (getting a half day out of it as well). And also, how that dude Cole he'd mentioned before kept giving him all these creepy little looks and glances. Nearly provoking him into yelling "What the fuck are you looking at, you perv!" Which he thankfully refrained from doing. Somehow, you didn't think it was exactly in your Auntie's character to be so confrontational and aggressive.

He was still finding his feet obviously. Doing a remarkable job considering. And even though he would occasionally say something, or get a comment from one of his co workers about how "different" he now seemed, as far as they were all concerned - he was 100% Joan Marie Burton, advertising executive. Or 'Jo' for short.

"I guess with a disguise like that, nobody is exactly gonna doubt you are who you say you are," you pointed out, while he was busy slapping himself on the back.

"True. Still, I figure I'm doing an okay job. Really, all the facts and figures and theory and shit is the easy part. It all seems to be up here somewhere and just comes trickling out whenever I need it. It's the dealing with all the people that's a total bitch. Aisha and Madelyn especially (Madelyn having been your Aunt's other best friend). I've got no clue what to say to them half the time. Talking to girls was never exactly my strong suit."

Join the club... you thought, not having been all that successful yourself. Your last girlfriend was well over a year and a half ago. And Allison Lowry was still little more than a pipe dream right now.

Joking that he was probably going to have to start Googling shoes and hunky male actors or something, you told him he should try getting them into comics, action movies and video games instead, causing you both to simultaneously burst out laughing. There probably being a far greater chance of you winning the lottery than Randall convincing two attractive thirty-something professional women that Grand Theft Auto and the X-Men were cool.

And so, around two weeks after you had first confronted Randall in your Auntie's apartment and rekindled your friendship (albeit, a slightly weirder one), you returned home from school, got changed and headed downstairs, planning to head over to Randall's just as you'd arranged. This time however, you bumped into your father in the landing, having gotten home early from work, wondering where you were going.

"I'm uh, I'm just gonna head over to see Randall," you told him.

"Again?"

"Yeah. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No. It's no problem for me. I'm just wondering... don't you think Randall would maybe like some time on his own?" he said, trying to be delicate. "To get used to how his new life is without you being over there all the time?" It came off however as if he were suggesting that your presence there was somehow holding him back. Which you knew was definitely not the case.

"No," you scoffed, not really liking the suggestion. "He asked me to come over. And he's gotten used to his new life... sort of." He was making good strides anyway.

"Well, okay. If you say so," your father relented, not wanting to push it. Adding though, "I don't want to come between your friendship or anything, and I think it's great that you're being so supportive, but just remember, Randall is a grown up now. He's got an entirely different life than the one you're used to. Just prepare yourself for the fact that maybe, just maybe, he won't have as much time for hanging out and playing video games anymore."

You didn't buy this however. He seemed just the same underneath, and had so far shown no sign of wanting to distance himself from you again. Not after last time.

"Dad. C'mon. It's Randall. He's always got time for video games."

Accepting this for now then, your father instead asked, "So where will I tell your mom you are this time... Danny's or Chris' ?" This being the excuse you'd used for your frequent absence around the house, and the one part that did actually make you feel kind of guilty - having to lie to your mom.

You might have told your dad the truth and he might be cool with it, but as far as your mom was concerned Randall was very much out of the loop right now. Though you did have a sneaking suspicion that somehow she knew, she hadn't said anything about it. In fact she hadn't really said anything about him or your Auntie Joan in quite some time. But she wasn't an idiot and she knew how tight you and Randall were. You wouldn't just stop seeing him just like that.

Your father meanwhile, though curious about Randall and how he was getting on, often questioning you about him after you returned home, still felt that it might be a little too soon to try and integrate him back into the rest of your family's lives. Having hope that eventually your mom might be agreeable to see him again at some point, but wanting to wait till he was sure she was ready. Not wanting to push her into coming face to face with her deceased sister so soon after the accident. Two months wasn't exactly a long time when you were grieving.

Leaving him then to think up something and rushing for your bus (figuring Randall would be home by now), you made your way across town and headed into the building. Giving a knock on his apartment door as you reached it.

This time however there was no answer. Not even after a couple of more knocks. Shit. I thought he'd be home by now, you said to yourself, looking at the time on your phone and seeing that it was almost five. Randall usually getting in from work around half four-ish. Must be running late or something.

Sending him a text, asking where he was, you then took a seat on the floor, next to the door. Amusing yourself by messing around with a few apps while you waited for a reply. Receiving one about ten minutes later...

Randall: Soz dude. Work was a bitch! Will be there soon.

Well, that explains that then.

Though he was still finding his feet and had kind of been thrust in at the deep end (having no qualifications and no experience of an office environment), according to Randall the work he'd been doing over the last week and a half hadn't actually been all that taxing. Something to do with coming up with a marketing campaign for a new brand of deodorant. He's often flippantly dismissed it as being "easy as fuck". Mostly sitting in a room brainstorming ideas and then showing them to the client. Something which he had thought "any idiot could do". You of course were certain that there was more to it than that, and judging from the text it seemed Randall had just discovered there was.

After another ten or so minutes of waiting, you finally spotted him stepping out of the lift, looking just as frazzled as the text had made him sound.

"Jesus fucking Christ, dude... What a day!" he announced as he made his way towards you, clad in a very professional looking business suit (the same one in fact that you'd both dismissed as being a bit too much). His stiletto heels clicking and clacking loudly as he walked, compelling him to add, "The sooner I get out of these stupid fucking things the better!"

"Trouble in deodorant town?" you chuckled, as he passed you the large black shoulder bag he'd also been carrying and pulled his keys out of his handbag. Letting you both in.

"Something like that, yeah. Apparently thinking up the initial ideas was the easy part. Actually implementing it all and organizing everything, that's a fucking nightmare! I've been on my feet all day."

Heading inside the apartment then, he relieving himself of his handbag and keys on a nearby cabinet, before pulling off his heels. Letting out a long, blissful sigh.. "Thank Christ for that. These things have been absolutely killing me."

Discarding them near the entrance, he then looked over at you and said, "You couldn't do us a favor, dude and get me a drink. I really need a sit down", undoing the buttons on his jacket as he did.

While usually you would have told him where to shove it, he really did look pretty worn out and you decided to be helpful, telling him "Sure, no problem", as you made your way towards the kitchen, dumping his bag down on the counter and heading for the fridge. Randall meanwhile, collapsed down onto the nearest armchair he could find.