"Don't think I trust you now," he warns, trying to ignore the slightly condescending way his former best friend is looking at him from across the room.
There's that twitch to Christian's lips, it's always there, a sort of quiet smile that has always been plastered on the cocky man's face. Smiles shouldn't be quiet, or loud, there's no such thing, but Rhino has seen – heard - both. TNA is filled with smiles, even though most are forced. AJ's, for instance, is unmistakably loud. Boastful, fake, blaring at you from across the ring, and it makes Rhino want to walk up and throttle him because his head is throbbing from the pitch.
Christian's used to be like that, when they walked the halls of greatness, basking in the unsatisfying glow of stardom. Pretending was so much easier then. They were still friends, closer than many brothers, and everything was right. Then his smile changed.
"I didn't do it to win your trust."
"Then why?"
His hands tear at nothing, claw at his bag to keep him distracted. He hasn't been in one dressing room with this man for a long time. Images keep returning, of smiles less fake and intentions without deception. He wishes those times could return, but he's given up on trusting this man a long time ago.
"I need a team I can trust."
"You make a mockery of trust," Rhino spits, knowing it's something Christian would say. Having spent so much time with him makes all the difference, they know how the other thinks, or at least he thought they did. He doesn't try to understand anymore, promises broken like they've been cut at for years. Sometimes he wonders if he simply didn't notice when it all began. At those times he feels like a bad friend.
"I need you," Christian stresses, Rhino's anger flaring at the play on words, "I need you on this team. There's no one else."
"You have Nash."
But he hasn't. He has no one. The betrayer betrayed, a sweet, ironic justice. Rhino wishes still, fervently, that he could have enjoyed it. Instead it gnaws at him, has ever since they broke apart. Friendship means too much to him to laugh at Christian's troubles. And it hurts, because he can't do what he used to. Protect, cherish, share. He used to do just that.
Perhaps now he can, he thinks, an evil little voice at the back of his mind giving him reason upon reason why he can let him back in. Who else would have him?
But the reasons don't make sense when he thinks them through.
"I can't trust Nash."
Unnecessary, but Christian says it anyway. They don't know Nash. No one knows why the grey haired man is even around. And he doesn't know Christian, doesn't know him like Rhino does, doesn't know what to watch out for. Rhino knows now, better than anyone, the danger in ever-watching eyes. They wait, patiently, for him to stumble.
He watches as the other man checks on bruised ribs, fingers barely brushing skin because he already knows. The thought of other nights like this sparks protectiveness again. Fighting Tomko earlier, it had been a pleasure.
"You can't trust me either."
Liar, the voice taunts. He doesn't listen, shoulders no longer slouched. He's still on guard, the backstabbing so familiar now.
"You shook my hand," Christian says, voice barely crossing the distance. Like shaking hands means anything in this business. Shaking a person's hand is often one second away from ending on the canvas, head crushed like a dying friendship. Rhino doesn't say this, catches the weariness in his former friend's face. Running from both sides of the fray must be tiring. He shouldn't feel bad for him.
"It's just a handshake."
A handshake that shouldn't have happened, because it was another step in the wrong direction. He can live with facing him, for Christian can't betray him that way. Working with him means turning his back, being vulnerable, and Rhino has long stopped feeling like he could.
"I meant it."
The voice calls out Christian, too. Liar, it whispers, echoing. Rhino doesn't bother voicing it. This thinking thing has to stop, he knows. He isn't one for that, years in Detroit rough on anyone and not prone to spark poetics. He's no good at it, has never been, but knows Christian liked making him think he was. Another ploy, perhaps, to break him. Rhino doesn't know.
"I don't trust you," he repeats, angry that they're sitting here now. His presence shouldn't be the safe choice anymore, not for Christian. Even so, teaming up had resulted in nothing, the beat-down heated and harsh. Still, it meant something to him, even though it shouldn't, to face that together again, and he hates himself for it. Sharing agony is something for the past, these days all the agony he feels is over a lost friendship. Something Christian caused.
"That's fine. You shouldn't." Christian is quiet, calm, though his eyes move to the door every other second, like he expects someone to burst through. Rhino wonders what his reaction would be, if AJ and Tomko were to jump in and attack him. Would he stand and watch? He doubts it and that worries him.
"You need me to salvage your career. Isn't that ironic?" he asks, but Christian doesn't look at him. Usually, before things went awry, the blond man would have made jokes at that, bring up other instances of irony, mess with his head. He still does that, but the playful edge has left him. It's serious now.
"Perhaps," is the quiet reply. Too quiet. It annoys Rhino, this uncaring appearance. He knows the man too well, can see how frustrated he is with the way his constructed walls had crumbled. His team had abandoned him, like he was used to doing, his back no longer safely guarded by mighty brawn and youthful recklessness. The latter probably hurts most, Rhino figures, because the adoring sidekick had betrayed him, Christian's ego bruised.
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
This time Christian looks up and gives a small smile. His hands graze his ribs momentarily, then drop to his lap.
"Being attacked by a dozen or so men does that to a person."
"No." Rhino scowls. "Being betrayed."
The smile vanishes, instead there's a look in Christian's eyes that Rhino knows too well. He's being felt sorry for. Teeth gnaw together, but he awaits the other man's reply anyway.
"I knew it was coming. That weakens the blow, somehow."
"Apparently your leadership isn't all that good?" Rhino taunts without meaning to, remembering what the man had said during their interview.
Among other things.
He knows about the cards that his daughter collects, stuffed under her pillow to keep them from him. Like he doesn't know they're there. She knows nothing of backstage politics, or ruthless backstabbing. The thought of his little girl watching them bloody each other hurts even now. Even if she thinks they were only playing. Thank God she does. She shouldn't have to lose her faith in friendship like he has.
Both men look up as footsteps, heavy, thudding, hurry closer. Rhino is pretty sure who they belong to, and it's the laughter – easily recognized by someone who had to listen to it endlessly, almost as annoying as his smile – that confirms it. AJ Styles shouldn't be this happy, even with Tomko watching his every move.
Perhaps that's why he hates Tomko so, for the man has been for so long what Rhino used to be. A guard dog, unflinching in loyalty, until that loyalty was tested and considered ill-deserved. AJ has Tomko's loyalty now, though begrudgingly, and Christian no more.
"Think they're coming in?" Christian asks, getting up slowly and edging towards the door. He almost sounds amused, but wears a fake grin.
Rhino shrugs, listens as the men outside come even closer. He doesn't care if they do. He's strong, knows this, and backstage fights never last long. There's nothing for him to fear. Christian seems a little more worried, no sneaky actions or flattering words getting him out of an all too small dressing room. There's only one way out.
They don't need it, because Tomko and Styles walk past without pausing. Rhino doesn't know what game they're playing, but he's none too keen to found out. He's learned to hate games.
"They're going to be coming for you, you know, now they think you've joined my team."
"They thought that the moment you walked down the ramp. And you knew it. You're trying to manipulate me into joining, aren't you?."
Another smile, barely a whisper. "Is it working?"
"Don't toy with me," Rhino snaps, getting up as well. He grabs his bag, legs heavy as he walks towards the door. He hates being toyed with, knows all too well the consequences of not being in control. And yet he wishes he could give control away again, rely on Christian like he used to, because he was happy that way. Just being around friends, learning, living, pretending they weren't using each other to capture that dream.
A hand halts him, and Rhino has to will his fists from clenching. "Well, is it?"
They're close now, too close. They'd always been too close. There is still this thick urge to protect the other man, stemming from something that far outranked loyalty. Maybe that is why the betrayal hurts even now.
"I'll let you know," he murmurs, the mere sentence bringing a smile to Christian's features. Oh, how he despises all those smiles. They always lie to his face. But at the same time Rhino has a feeling this is a genuine one, and he hates himself for listening to its tune.