Author's note:
Skye, the main character and the one in which the pov is coming from, is a fictitious character from my imagination.
A bit of her bio is that she debuted in 1998, after having wrestled eight years. She was a babybface and became wildly popular. She started dating Chris Jericho in 2001. There are more characters who will be regular in this story, but they'll come in later (such as John Cena :))
This is my first non-one-shot, I'm pretty nervous about it, but I hope you like it. If you get confused or something, leave me a comment and I'll get back to you.
Thanks!
April 29th, 2004:
Chris and I were arguing again. Ever since this feud with Christian had begun (and it'd begun because of his on-screen beau, Trish Stratus), he'd put his health on the line in trying to simply win a match. I just wanted to talk him out of it, hoping he'd stay and rest. He was packing, getting ready to go to RAW tonight I'm sure, still, though, I asked. "Chris, what are you doing?"
"I'm packing."
"Why?"
"I'm going to RAW tonight, and you?"
"You're limping."
"I've been through worse."
"You're not going."
"You're not stopping me."
"You sure about that?" I said, stepping up to him, smirk on my face.
"Sorry, Skye, you'll forgive me if I'm less than in the mood to flirt now."
"Why do you have to torture me?"
"Torture you?"
"Yeah, why would you go back when your knee could be wrecked again? I worry about you, Chris, don't you worry about you?"
"Of course I do, but I still have shit to do."
"Shit to do? I didn't realize your little storyline with Trash was such important shit."
"Don't call her that. What's she ever done to you?"
"It's not what she's done to me, but what she's done to you. I don't care what your character did or didn't do in that damn bet. I don't trust Trash, sorry, I mean That Trashy Bitch, and we already know you can't trust Christian."
"Since when have you been in this?"
"Since you made me fall in love with you."
"I didn't make you do anything."
"You know what I mean."
"Skye, if you were in my shoes, you'd do the same damn thing."
"Would I?"
"Yeah, you would."
"Well."
"Well nothing. You'd be going, and I'd try to stop you, but of course I wouldn't because you're stubborn like that too, and you know so."
"Chris, you-"
"Doesn't that just piss you off?"
"What?"
"When you get injured and everyone flips out, they try to stop you from going back and doing your job. I'm a wrestler, I wrestle."
"Well yes, I guess that does piss me off."
"Exactly. So we're going to RAW, and whatever happens, happens, right?"
"Fine."
"That's what I like to hear."
He kissed the top of my head before continuing to pack.
"Chris…"
"Yeah?"
"Just out of curiosity, if Trish wasn't in the storyline, or it was a completely different storyline, say for King of the Ring or something, would you still be so anxious to get back?"
"What are you getting at, Skye?"
"Nothing really. Just making conversation."
"Making conversation my ass. God, Skye! Why can't you just trust me, trust Trish? Have I ever done anything for you not to trust me?"
"I'm just-"
"No, answer me. If I've done something to betray your trust, tell me, because I am lost. You hang out with guys all the time, do I question you, do I think you're cheating on me? No, I trust you, and you know why? You haven't given me any reason not to. Oh, but the first time I'm eager to get back to a storyline, I'm cheating, and I'm the scum of the Earth! Might as well send me straight to Hell!"
"Chris, I'm sorry. A simple no would have been alright."
"I'm done with your I'm sorrys, Skye. They're bullshit. I'm just so sick of all we have between us, Skye."
"Are we breaking up or something?"
He stared at me silently for a few minutes. Finally he got his stuff and walked over to the door.
"See you at the show."
"So I'll take that as we're not breaking up, right?"
Man am I pathetic.
March 3rd, 2004 (RAW):
Chris must have had an earlier flight out to California than I, because, despite my attempts at calling him and emailing him, I haven't heard from him since Thursday. The Thursday my ass got dumped. Maybe I deserved it. Why shouldn't I trust him? He's never cheated or lied to me… At least as far as I know. No, that's my paranoia taking off again. I wish he'd stop being so stubborn, but hell, he's probably wished that on me too. I'd talk to him, if I could even find him. Maybe I should just come to terms with reality. Why don't I? As if I don't already know, I love that man, before I just give up on us, I need to know he doesn't love me back.
It's about 25 minutes before RAW starts and apparently no one's seen him. They must all be liars too. This is annoying.
I have absolutely no idea what he's doing on the show tonight, I hope he didn't somehow get himself into a match, though. So, like any other anxious ex, I'm backstage watching the monitor and finally, I see the countdown clock. Here he comes. Okay, so I'll see what he's doing, whether it's a match or a segment, then I'll head to the curtain and when he comes backstage he'll have to see me.
Alright, so here he comes, his cue, and, Christian? Christian. I don't like the guy but I gotta admit, that was clever. I still hate him, though.
So screw going to the curtain then. And again I'm waiting on the infamous Y2J.
Finally, I get my wish for real, when the real Chris Jericho makes his benevolent appearance. And so I head to the gorilla position. I was watching a monitor they had there when Christian attacked Chris's knee. I felt guilty when my first thought was I told you so. But I had to get over my guilt as my second thought was please let him be okay. I wish I could have went out there and stopped Christian. To help Chris backstage so he could be tended to, support him, leaving out the I told you part. I mean, I'm not made of stone. But I couldn't, I'm not Trish. And she couldn't because she's at home with an injured ankle. See, no one's ever where you want them and always where you'd rather them not be.
Christian comes walking backstage smugly and I want to slap that stupid blotch of ink that isn't really anything except something sticking out on his arm, off. But, unless it's for storyline purposes and there's a camera backstage, violence is highly recommended against. It's also a fine and it's illegal. Finally Chris, with help, obviously, comes backstage, limping, he was led down towards one of the trainers' rooms as I followed behind. He sits down on the bench and is told by some guy in a WWE shirt that the trainer would be there in a second. Not much of an on the spot trainer if you ask me.
People were used to us dating enough by now, so no one was asking if I had Chris's permission to be in there.
"Get out." Chris says, not looking at me.
"I won't say anything, I just wanna be here for you."
"No."
"Please."
"Skye."
"Chris, please." I begged as the trainer walked in. From that point, Chris said nothing to me, only talking to the trainer when necessary, completely ignoring me. Though I'd probably ignore me to if my knee was fucked up, so I let the scene play out.
"Well, Chris," the trainer begins, "I'd say that you should stay off of that knee for at least two weeks, but, since I doubt you're going to listen, stay off your knee for one week minimum and, if you can keep your knee from getting too badly attacked again afterwards, you should be able to stand it enough to come back and compete."
"So, I'll be okay for Wrestlemania?" Chris asks.
"You should be able to compete as long as your knee doesn't get hurt again in the meantime."
"Thank you." He said, hopping slowly off the table.
"Shouldn't he get crutches?" I ask, curious.
"Yeah, wait a minute."
We stayed silent, and the trainer, who I've never had before and don't even know, but who seems to have had Chris a few times, comes back with crutches.
"Here's your crutches, you may have to change the height level later, though."
"Alright, thanks."
And we walked out.
"I can't believe he attacked you." I say, honestly stunned.
"Yeah right, you must be happy. You were right. I came back and look what happened."
"Chris, I didn't want you to get hurt, that's why I was trying to talk you out of coming back so soon. I wasn't trying to make a bet with you!"
"Is that a reference to the bet storyline?"
"Is that-Chris, who's being paranoid now? No, that wasn't a reference to anything expect the fight we had last Thursday."
"Speaking of last Thursday, we broke up, so what do you want?"
"I wanted to check on you. You were hurt. And besides, I wanna get back together."
"You do?"
"Yeah, though it's not like we really broke up. We're just always fighting, which is weird because, what do we even have to be fighting over?"
"Well you don't trust me, can we include that?"
"I trust you."
"Really? You sure as hell don't act like it."
"I ask you one time about a storyline and suddenly I don't trust you?"
"No, it's not the first time. You keep bad mouthing Trish, she walks by me and you turn your nose up."
"You're right."
"Thank you for admitting it." Chris says, crossing his arms.
"I do bad mouth Trish."
"Glad you agree."
"I also bad moth Stacy, Sable, Lita, the rest of the divas locker room, most of the male roster, a lot of the technicians, at times my best friend, constantly myself… I have a big mouth, get over it. And I may turn up my nose when Trish walks by, I mean call me petty, but haven't you seen our rivalry? Didn't you see her tear my legs apart a year ago, when absolutely nothing was on the line? She's booked as this little, innocent angel, who does no harm, have we forgotten her debut year? The bitch she was? And now she's so sweet, so pretty, and everyone loves her. I don't trust her."
"So you're not jealous?"
"By the sounds of it, I think you'd want me to be."
"It's a nice thought."
"If it's such a nice thought, then why have you been bitching about me not trusting you?"
"There's a difference between you being jealous and you not trusting me."
"Okay, what about this, I do trust you, I don't always agree with your judgments for your own health, but that's between you and well… you. I don't trust Trish. And sure, I'm jealous. But who wouldn't be? Trish is hot, she's petite and blonde with huge boobs. She doesn't seem to take anything too seriously, was almost a doctor, and now, she can wrestle. I mean holy shit, I can't compare to that!"
"So this goes back to you being self-conscious?"
"Why are you being an asshole? Just drop it. Can't we move on?"
"You wanted to work it out, did you not?"
"Yeah, I did, but now-I'm not so sure anymore. You're just acting so different, always so different. What is wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong"
"Fine." I start to walk away. "Fine, Chris. I'm done."