"This is fucking stupid," said Jeff, huffing and sitting back against his couch. He was sitting on a couch in some hotel room. He had no idea what the name was, they all blurred together when you stayed in them four times a week. 'Better than a stupid bus,' thought Jeff. He then got a scowl. 'That's something, I hate his fucking bus.' Jeff was currently writing a list of all the things he hated about CM Punk. Why? His brother told him to write down everything he hated about Punk, and why. It supposedly helped ease tensions so they could become friends or whatever. It was bullshit. The point was supposed to be that Jeff wouldn't have reasonable explanations for why he hated Punk, but he had perfectly, PERFECTLY, reasonable reasons. Not that Matt would know that though. But he promised him he'd at least try. Jeff really didn't think it'd be this hard.

'He's an arrogant prick,' wrote Jeff. 'He's inconsiderate, he's a liar, and he's a backstabbing douche.' He sighed and set his pencil down beside him. This probably wasn't meant to be a list of insults. But Punk doesn't deserve an explanation anyways, and Jeff never gave him one. He never told him why he stopped talking to him, he didn't tell him why he stopped calling, he didn't tell him why he didn't want to spend the night on his bus anymore. 'He should just know,' thought Jeff. 'I don't have to explain myself, he knows damn well why I don't want to talk to him.' Jeff picked his pencil back up and got back to his paper. 'He doesn't know how bad he hurt me.'

They were friends once, the best of friends. And as far as the public knew, that was all they were. Punk liked it that way. They liked it that way. It was fun, it was safe. No one else knew they did more than play games on that bus. Although, they played plenty of games. 'Him and his fucking games,' thought Jeff. There were many, many times Jeff would just go to bed because he couldn't grab Punk's attention for five seconds off of his game. 'But it was always cute how his tongue stuck out the tiniest bit when he played,' thought Jeff. He let out a heavy sigh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver heart pin. Punk probably thought he threw it away, but he would never. Sure, he was definitely not going to wear it on his arm bands again anytime soon. Or ever. But he always had it in his pocket. Jeff hasn't wrestled a match without it in over two years. Punk gave it to him after an argument about six months into their special little friendship. He said he found it a while back and was waiting for the right opportunity to do something with it, he said Jeff wore his heart on his sleeves anyway so he might as well have it. Jeff got a soft smile, running his thumb over the tiny heart. That was something he didn't hate, Punk's sense of humor. He always knew what to say to make Jeff laugh. But he also knew just how to make Jeff cry, even if wasn't trying to.

Jeff looked down at his paper and began to write again. 'You never committed to me. You never told me how you felt. You never comforted me after you hurt me in the ring.' Their storyline took a huge toll on them. Punk was definitely a safe worker and never hurt Jeff physically, but mentally, he tore Jeff apart. He never understood what Jeff was saying, he would always brush it off, saying, "Why does it bother you? It's not real. You know I wouldn't actually say that to you." Jeff would try to answer back, Punk would cut him off with a kiss, they'd wind up back under the covers and the subject would be dropped until the next promo. Jeff was glad Punk could just shake off his character and pretend like nothing happened, but he couldn't. He couldn't just shake off Punk calling him "A drugged-up mistake" and then make up with him ten minutes later. Jeff couldn't look into Punk's eyes and pretend to hate him. Jeff couldn't hate him. How could he? Punk was everything to him. He was the only person who knew who Jeff actually was.

No one knew they were more than friends, no one else knew they were even bisexual. The only reason Punk found out Jeff was is because he caught Jeff accidentally sneak a peek and then blush when he saw him in the shower. Jeff had a crush on Punk for years, and when Punk said they should be "friends with benefits," it crushed him, but of course he agreed. A little Punk was better than no Punk, and hey, the sex was great. It never meant to last, they both figured it'd be a few weeks, maybe even a few months of just fucking around. Neither of them thought it'd last two years. 'You never remembered our anniversary,' wrote Jeff. Sure, they weren't really together, so Jeff just ignored it the first year, but by the second year, you'd think it'd be considered a relationship at that point.

'I don't hate you,' wrote Jeff. 'I never hated you. I don't even dislike you. I can't stand how much everything little thing you do drives me crazy. The way you constantly hugged me from behind. The way you used to poke my nose no matter how many times I told you to stop. How you used to rub my back after a match without me ever asking even once. I hate that you don't do that anymore.' Jeff felt a tear roll down his cheek and a wet drop appeared on his paper. 'I hate that I don't sleep on your bus anymore. I hate that your old t-shirt I took doesn't smell like you anymore. I hate that I still have to pretend like I hate you in the ring. I hate that you actually think I hate you. I hate that I don't hate you.' Jeff tossed his pencil and paper aside and picked up his phone. He dialed the old number he still knew by heart and waited for an answer. It rang several times before going to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Phil, obviously I can't come to the phone right now. If you want to sell me something, fuck off. If you want me to donate to a charity, I probably already had." Jeff sighed as he listened to the message. "And if it's Jeff, I'm sorry." Jeff's eyes widened and he felt all the tears he was holding back fall down his face. He pulled the phone away and stared at it as he heard the beep that signaled him to start his message. Jeff stared at it for a few moments before pressing the end button and setting his phone aside. He felt butterflies everywhere in his stomach and pulled his knees into his chest. How old was that message. Was it too old and Punk just forgot to update it? Was it new enough that Punk might still mean it? Jeff never tried to call once after their big blow out. It happened six months ago, there was no way he could still mean that. He's had to have moved on by now.

They ended like almost all couples do, with an argument. It wasn't worse than any of their other arguments, Jeff was just tired of it. They were running in circles with no end in sight. Punk didn't understand, he never did. Jeff couldn't hide his feelings anymore. He couldn't pretend just being friends was what he wanted. Jeff couldn't take it anymore. "What are you talking about?" said Punk. "Where is this coming from?"

"You don't understand me!" said Jeff. "You never listen to anything I say!"

"I listen to everything you say!" said Punk. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?! It was a fucking promo!"

"It's not about that!" said Jeff. "I can't take this shit anymore! I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of this fucking bus, and I'm tired of you!"

Jeff walked to the door of the bus and Punk stood up. "Don't leave. Look, we can work this out. We ca-"

"There's nothing left here," said Jeff, opening the door and shutting it behind himself.

They hadn't talked properly since that day. Punk tried to call and text but Jeff didn't pick up. He refused to go talk to Punk privately, the only times they talked were the very awkward minutes spent discussing matches. Jeff had a diary he kept from their time together he still wrote in every now and then, it was the only way he could voice his thoughts. And he needed to before he went absolutely crazy. Jeff wiped a tear off of his face, and picked up his phone again, debating whether or not to call again. Punk would have no reason to call back, Jeff doubted he still had his number. Jeff's heart stopped and his eyes lit up when he saw his phone flash, seeing the familiar number on the screen. He immediately answered and put the phone to his ear. "Phil?"

"I didn't think you'd ever call," said Punk.

"I didn't think I would either," said Jeff.

"Where are you?" said Punk.

"The hotel," said Jeff.

"What room?" said Punk.

"113," said Jeff.

"Stay there," said Punk. "I'm coming."

The line went dead and Jeff got a small smile staring at his phone. He quickly got up and washed his face off, trying to take away some of the redness from crying, to no avail. Jeff heard a knock on his door and ran to it. As soon as he opened it Jeff found himself in familiar strong arms. He breathed in the cologne he missed too much as he let himself cry into Punk's chest.

"I'm so sorry," said Punk, stroking Jeff's hair. "I never thought about how you felt."

Jeff shook his head and looked up at Punk, wiping a tear away. "I should have told you."

Punk placed a hand on Jeff's face and wiped a tear away with his thumb. "No more tears. I'm gonna make this right."

AN: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it! :D Please leave a review!