They had been so close. So close. Made it all the way to the finals of the tag team tournament, and then the Usos had taken Chad's knee out. Jason stands nearby while the trainer examines his knee, wrapping it up securely and giving him a crutch just to keep weight off of it for a few days. "Ice it, take it easy. We'll know more once the swelling goes down," the trainer tells him.
"Right," Chad says, voice dull as he adjusts the crutch and gingerly gets up. Jason hovers, hands reaching out towards him like he wants to help, but Chad ignores him, continuing on his way without a look back at Jason.
Jason frowns but lets his partner have this uncharacteristic moment, the drive back to the hotel silent and tense. They walk through the hotel, Chad keeping his head down as Jason stays close enough to help just in case. The elevator ride is excruciating, Jason holding his breath with each jerk and twitch from the elevator, hoping that Chad can stay on his feet just a little longer. Making it to their room and getting the door unlocked is a relief, Jason watching with sympathy as Chad hobbles over to the nearest bed and collapses onto it.
He doesn't say a word as he struggles to kick his shoes off, finally sitting still as Jason helps, putting both shoes down under the bed so Chad won't trip on them if he needs something in the dark. Chad doesn't say anything, just rolls over and buries his face in his pillows, clearly eager to ignore everything and everyone around him.
Jason exhales and leaves him after shutting the lights off, taking his time in the bathroom. He leans against the sink and stares at himself in the mirror, looking washed out and pale in the bright lights overhead. The loss aches, sure, but seeing just how quickly Chad had shut down, barely even accepting help for his injury, hurts worse. He hates the silence, he hates that his best friend is hurting so much and he can't think of a good way to help him physically or emotionally. "Dammit," he tells his reflection. "You fail at everything a good tag partner should be able to do." He knows if their roles were reversed, Chad would have pulled their title opportunity out of the fire. And if not, then Chad would be able to comfort Jason in a way that would snap him out of it without too much hassle. But, no, all Jason can do is hover and watch as Chad suffers.
There are two beds, yeah, but Jason feels helpless, disgusting, when he tries to lay on the other bed. It's too far away, there's too much space between them right now as it is. So he gets up and walks over to Chad's bed, resting his hand on his shoulder as he eases down behind him, careful with his movements to keep from jostling his bad leg too much. He lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, when he realizes the bed is trembling. Or, more like, Chad is trembling, and... Jason quickly sits up and rests a hand on his shoulder, feeling him quaking from his head to his toes. "Chad," he whispers, leaning closer. "Chad..."
"I'm so sorry," he chokes out. "I ruined everything. I failed you, I failed our team. It's, it's all my fault-"
"No, no-"
"We'd be tag champions if it weren't for-"
Jason quickly moves to the other side of the bed, kneeling awkwardly so he can cup Chad's face, tears dripping down his fingers and leaving him struggling to breathe at the pure pain he sees in his friend's eyes. "It's not! It's not your fault the Usos are bastards and injured you. Look at me, Chad. I should've been there. I should've helped you, this is my fault much more than it is yours. Don't blame yourself-"
"We would've won if not for my knee," Chad insists, struggling just to breathe.
Jason shifts again, sits next to Chad and tucks him into his arms, hugging him tightly as he cries harder into Jason's shoulder. He hates this, but he had hated the silence more and thinks it'll be better for Chad in the long run to let it out. "It's not entirely your fault," he whispers into his hair. "It's not entirely my fault. We both have some burdens to bear from this, it's just how tag teams work. Your knee'll heal, and we'll challenge for the titles again, and we'll do better next time." He hesitates, pressing a quick kiss to Chad's forehead. "Just breathe, man. It'll be alright, I promise you."
"You really don't hate me for ruining everything tonight?" Chad's voice is weak, shattered, and Jason shuts his eyes tightly.
"Of course I don't," he insists. "There'd be no American Alpha without you, man. We've just lost a step because we're adjusting to the main roster. It's ok. It'll be fine. We'll get it back. We always do."
Chad pulls back, struggling to smile. It looks false, wrong on his pale, blotchy face, but it's better than the blank emptiness that was there earlier, so Jason decides to take it as it is, wiping his face off with a kleenex from the box on the table between their beds. "Thank you, Jason," he whispers.
"Any time," he says sincerely, cuffing Chad lightly on the jaw. "Just... lay down and relax, it'll look better in the morning."
Chad exhales, eyes shifting over to the crutch standing up against the wall. He grimaces and grips Jason's wrist. "Will you stay a little bit longer? I don't... want to be alone right now, and maybe... we can just talk about dumb stuff until I fall asleep?"
Jason's face relaxes into a soft, affectionate smile. "Sure, man. You're in luck, dumb stuff is my speciality." Chad laughs- which is the best victory Jason thinks he's had in a long time- and they sprawl out side by side, staring up at the ceiling as Jason begins rambling about any matter of lighthearted stuff that he can think of off the top of his head.
Chad's soft murmurs quickly ease into sleepy hums, and then into soft snores, and Jason immediately stops talking, looking over at him with an easy smile. "We're gonna be ok, Chad. I know we will."