"So you're saying, it could have killed you?"

"Well, a lot of people do die from it. And even if not, it still basically takes over your life." Randy replied matter-of-factly, fresh off of, rather painstakingly, explaining to his little brother what cancer was. "So you could imagine how worried I was feeling, which, kinda explains why I acted the way I did..."

Mark and Randy Taylor stood facing each other in the room they once shared, standing beside what used to be the latter's bed.

"But you don't have it, right... Cancer?"

"Yeah, Mark. I'm clear."

Mark nodded, but was rather fidgeted in doing so.

"OK..." he then breathed out. "Thank God." His voice, though clearly relieved, sounded very shaky. He bit his thumb and stared pensively at the floor with a wide-eyed and glassy expression on his face, deep in thought.

"Hey." Randy walked over to him and sat themselves down by the base of his bed, the younger boy's gaze still fixed away from Randy. "Like I said, nothing happened. No need to worry anymore."

"I know. It's just that...after you got mad at me, the first thing I said in my head was that...that 'I hate you'..."

Randy, hearing the guilt in his voice, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault Mark. That's why I'm here. To tell you that. And really, I've had that coming for a while, I'm always doing and saying all these mean things to you."

"Well, yeah... But still..."

Mark couldn't complete his thought as a tear began streaming down his face. Perhaps he didn't even know how to put what he was feeling into words. But Randy didn't need to hear any more to understand. After all, no matter how much Mark may have annoyed him, he knew that if it had been the other way around and things turned out for the worst, he would never be able to live with himself. Sympathy filling his face, he wrapped his arm around his little brother, comforting and affectionate, though also somewhat bashful considering he's never been so sappy with him before.

"You're not gonna hear me say this a lot, but you're a good kid Mark. I know you wouldn't have meant it if you said it. Don't feel guilty for even a second. The only reason I'm here is to let you know that I didn't mean what I said. Okay? I'm sorry." Randy could see the emotion beginning to flood Mark's face. "And you know what, how about this? For all the times that you think I went too far, if you think a prank was too much, or something I said was too mean, for all of that, I'm sorry. And it's not like those apologies mom would make me say all the time, okay?"

Randy clutched him tighter.

"Mark. I'm sorry."

The younger Taylor nodded again through closed eyes as a second tear snuck out the other side of his face.

"It's okay." he then said, finally turning to look at his big brother. "There aren't a lot of those anyway."

Once again, Randy didn't need to hear any more to understand what he meant. He was actually rather amazed. Forgiveness, unconditional love, and a willingness to let things go back to normal all conveyed in one sentence. So he gave his brother an embrace and kiss on the cheek, but made sure to keep it quick; he could tell the sappiness was beginning to wear off.

"Okay!" he pulled back. "So we're good. Let's just put it in writing and we can call it a day."

Randy fetched a pad of paper and took a pen out of his pocket then handed these to Mark.

"I, Randy Taylor, hereby apologize to my brother Mark for all the times I went too far."

Mark gave a satisfied smile then pressed the pen's button.

*Zap*

He immediately flinched, dropping the pen on his bed in the process. An electric shock pen.

"I said I was sorry." Randy shrugged. "I didn't say I was gonna stop."

Mark gave him a look that suggested he should have known all along.

"Just turn its head." Randy then informed him.

With a last wink, Randy made his leave, while Mark, the smile returning to his face, began writing.