The ash of his cigarette burnt through the couch cushion filling the room with this awful cheap burning scent. He sat there with his eyes locked on the blank wall hoping that maybe, just maybe he'd wake up from this horrible nightmare.
He had just lost to his arch nemesis, his buddy, his former lover; Seth Rollins. The two of them had competed in a wild lumberjack match earlier tonight. But a faulty loss was Dean's destiny tonight just like it always seems to be.
But it wasn't the loss that sparked something inside of him to break. It was the pain and torture he had endured during that match. It was the heartbreak he had experienced when he curb-stomped Seth's face into the mat. It was the constant pain of being in love with the man that so easily stabbed him in the back.
He still loves Seth, as a brother and a lover. But he also fucking hates his guts.
But right now his body is craving the attention of the sellout. He needs him here right now and it's driving him over the edge. He's sick of this pathetic weakness always overcoming him.
The cigarette fell from his unsteady hand, burning a hole through the hotel carpet. His blank stare stayed locked on the wall, ignoring the thin smoke that had clouded the air along with the vile scent of burning fabric.
Soon the empty beer can fell from his other hand and the walls began to spin. His head ached and his chest burned. But the ring of his cellphone broke his hazy stare. He didn't even think before gliding his finger over the answer button.
"Dean? Dean?" Spoke the familiar voice of the man he had been dialing all night long during his pathetic drunken rage.
Seth Rollins.
"Why are you callin' me, man? You okay? Don't tell me I sent you to the hospital?" Seth's voice was laced with worry but it brought a sickening satisfaction to Dean.
"I miss you." Dean spoke, surprisingly clear for a crazily drunken man on the verge of passing out or puking.
It was the first time the lunatic had admitted to himself that he misses Seth. It hurt to admit but the pain of trying to bury those feelings only felt much worse.
Seth didn't speak for a few seconds. "You miss me? But - We just - You don't make any sense, Ambrose."
"Nothing makes sense anymore." Dean's raspy voice hissed.
"Damn right. Now really, why do I have 6 crazy drunken voice-mails from you? I should know better than to answer your drunk calls, especially by now." Seth chuckled.
"I need you." Dean spoke; his voice sounding desperate.
"We can't do this." Seth's smile immediately dropped. It was evident in his tone.
But the phone dropped from Deans hand as his stomach began to churn and his head began to pound. He had just barely made it to the toilet in time.
He slumped against the cold tile wall, feeling completely drained but somewhat better than he did ten minutes ago. But he couldn't steady his breathing and his hands shook out of control. He's used to it.
Dean was finally able to get himself to his feet but his legs felt like spaghetti beneath him. His hands gripped the edges of the sink as he stared at his reflection. A pale face, dark eyes, and a mess of golden tangles on top of his head. This has become the lunatics newly found look.
He's so sick of feeling this pathetic and useless, it's become his new reality and he's sick of it. But there's no solution. There's no way to escape it. He's in love with the man he's supposed to hate and it's going to drive him into insanity. Or worse.
A fist pounded against Dean's hotel door, constantly, not letting up. The pounding noise burned his ears and irritated his headache. He stumbled angrily towards the door, tripping repeatedly over his own feet that he had no control over.
Deans fingers glided over the lock a few times before finally unlatching it, the door swung open almost knocking him backwards. There stood a heavily out of breath and sweating Seth.
It brought a pained smile to Dean's face to see him, so worried over a little phone call. It shows that he still cares and that's all he needs to know.
"Jesus Christ, Dean. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Seth breathed, slamming the door shut behind him.
Dean leaned his weight against the wall as a lightheaded feeling overcame him once again. He couldn't speak for a second, or even breathe. But a sick smile grew across his face.
Seth gripped the counter-top, "This is fucking funny to you?" He growled angrily.
Dean's hardly seen Seth angry. He's usually a pretty cheery dude. Even in his backstabbing asshole phase, he's always got a damn smile on his face. It's not like Seth to ever get angry and it takes a lot to piss him off. But somehow Dean's managed to be the only person to send the backstabber on a rampage.
"Nah. Jus' wonderin' why you even showed up. You hate m'right?" Dean slurred, smiling wide.
"I fuckin' showed up because you called me up sounding all crazy and then you just drop the phone and all I can hear is you puking in the background and cursing at yourself like a maniac. I came because I didn't want you to fuckin' die, okay? I still care about you asshole." Seth shouted.
But the next thing Dean knows is his stomachs burning and there's a sour feeling crawling back up his throat. His vision is blurred and his head is weightless. He feels like he's falling but he can't quite tell until arms are wrapped around his waist and he's almost being dragged.
Finally he can see again, but the view isn't so wonderful as he's staring into the toilet bowl. His stomach feels empty now and his head is heavy again. He falls back against the wall taking in a deep breath.
Seth's sitting on the edge of the tub staring at him with a heartbroken stare. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Dean."
Dean's icy blue eyes meet Seth's. He can see a little clearer now and his mind isn't such a blur.
"You can't keep making me do this, Seth." He mumbles.
"It 'aint my choice." Seth whispers, frowning.
But Dean just nods, pulling himself off of the bathroom floor. This time he can feel his legs and he doesn't feel like he's going to collapse at any given moment.
Seth pushes himself off of the edge of the bathtub, starting the shower for Dean. "Clean yourself up buddy."
But Dean's eyes meet Seth's once again and this time they're scared, they're almost filled with tears. "Don't leave." He begs.
Seth grabs Dean, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "I won't leave this time." He promises, whispering into Dean's ear.
The cool air hits Dean hard after nearly boiling himself in the scalding shower water. But it feels good. His eyes lock on Seth who has already made it a job to clean Dean's nearly destroyed hotel room. A smile spread along his face when he sees that Seth has also made himself comfortable in a pair of the lunatics sweatpants.
"Thanks for alla' that." Dean mumbles towards Seth as he rummages through his bags for something to throw on.
But Seth's hands wrap around Dean's wrist, stopping him.
"Naw, come on dude I gotta put some clothes on." Dean whines.
Seth smirks, "I don't think you do."
Suddenly Seth's shoving Dean backwards until his back is against the wall and his arms are pinned up above his shoulders. Seth's lips brush against Dean's gently, his hot breath smells minty. Their lips lock together aggressively, a moment that has been waited for, for far too long.
But Dean shoves Seth away from him angrily, glaring at him through dark eyes. Without much thought his fist connects with Seth's jaw, sending him backwards onto the bed. He smiles wide standing over Seth whose clutching his bloodied mouth and staring back at him with fear.
"It doesn't feel fuckin' good, does it? Having your heart torn out when you least expect it." He growls.
Dean's back on top of Seth, kissing him wildly again, tasting the tinty bloodiness that has filled the traitors mouth. Seth's hands squeeze against Dean's waist hungrily digging his nails into his skin.
This time it's Seth who shoves Dean away, rolling him onto his back and leaning over him. His right hand runs along Dean's face, tracing his features.
"You think it felt good? You think I liked it?" Seth's voice is enraged. His fingers became tangled in Dean's knotted hair as he yanks his head back so Deans staring into his eyes. "You think I liked seeing how heartbroken and torn you were. I'm not a monster, Dean. It broke me. It still haunts me. I have nightmares about it all the god damn time. You know how many times I've woke up in the middle of the night almost in tears ready to call you and beg you to come back and make all the bad go away?!" He shouted before his fists pressed into Dean's chest.
Dean just stared up into Seth's chocolate eyes, taking in the words he had just said. They hit him hard. He never put anything into Seth's perspective since the betrayal. Instead he just filtered anger towards him never once thinking there had to be a better reason.
A wet drop against his chest dragged him out of his thoughts and focused back on Seth's watery red eyes.
"Why?" Was all Dean managed to muster up, cupping his hands along Seth's cheeks and wiping his tears.
Seth sighed. "For power, for money, for all the selfish pathetic things you can think of." He dropped to his side, laying next to Dean but keeping his eyes locked on his. "I was promised lots of power and I got it all. Was it worth it? Fuck no. Do I regret it? In some ways. I shouldn't have done it like that and the shitty thing about it is tomorrow we can't be friends in that ring. From now on we're enemies."
"That never had to follow our relationship outside of the ring." Dean growled.
"It didn't. But you never gave me a damn moment to talk to you, Dean. Every fucking call you ignored, you didn't give me a chance to fix our real lives so I gave up and waited for you to call." Seth spoke, desperately.
But it was true. Since the betrayal Dean had shut out Seth, replacing his entire outside of wrestling persona with what had happened in the ring. It didn't have to be this way but Dean made it this way. He was as much to blame for all of this as Seth is.
"Shit. I'm a fuckin' idiot." Dean growled, running his hands over his face.
"Well it's okay now, isn't it?" Seth forced a weak smile.
Dean nodded, "I guess it is."