It was three in the morning, and Chris was lying awake in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. Why? He didn't even know. Or, he did know, just didn't want to admit it. It was April 2nd, the day after WrestleMania. He had lost to Punk, but that wasn't what was bothering him. What was bothering him was the fact that he still hadn't told Punk how he felt about him. After three months of pulling out all of Punk's past family drama, he had gone too far. He didn't mean to, no. He just wanted Punk to notice him, that's all. When he returned back in January, he just wanted Punk to notice him. When he did, he got addicted, like Punk was his drug. The angrier Punk got, the more time he got to be with him, even if it was just for ten minutes on Raw. He had to say more shit about his family, he had to keep Punk's attention on him. Now, he's worried. I mean, he and Punk had never really been friends, but he always had hoped that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance. Now, he thinks that's probably all gone, and it's all his fault. Punk hates him, and everyone else in the locker room has been avoiding him ever since he returned back in January. He's been trying to get himself to tell Punk how he feels, he just can't push himself to do it.
"Tonight's the night." he told himself over and over again, still laying in his run-down hotel room, staring at the ceiling.
Finally, at almost four in the morning, he finds the courage and strength to go talk to Punk. He stands up, quickly throwing on dark jeans and an old Metallica shirt before heading off to Punk's hotel room. He's sure Punk's asleep, but he just can't wait anymore. He can't hold in anything any longer. He needs to tell Punk how he feels. Now. He walks slowly to Punk's hotel room, both hands shoved into his pockets the entire walk there. Other than the occasional hotel employee, the halls are deserted, allowing Chris to get somewhat of a plan made up in his head. He gets to Punk's room, standing in front of the door for a minute or two, going over his plan again in his head. Chris knocks a few times, secretly hoping Punk's asleep. After a minute or so, Punk opens the door, drowsily standing in front of Chris in jeans and an old Misfits shirt. Chris can tell that Punk was asleep, and he probably woke him up. Seeing Punk, Chris completely forgot about his plan he had made, his mind going absolutely blank.
"Jericho?" Punk asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"Uh...yeah. Punk, may I come in?" he asks, knowing he probably sounds pathetic right now. How can he not? He's about to spill his feelings to someone who probably hates his guts. Punk motions for him to walk in, and then closes the door and sits down next to Chris on the bed, which is horribly messed up from Punk sleeping.
"Uh...so what's up, Chris? Here to make fun of me some more? No, you're here to make fun of my family more, aren't you?" Punk asks, all of his arrogant, sarcastic attitude in full force.
"No, I'm not. Punk, listen. I'm sorry about everything I said, I didn't mean it, I swear. I just...I,uhh..." he starts to say what he's wanted to say for months now, but stops. He doesn't know why, really. Maybe it's the fact that he's scared, or him being nervous. Or the fact that he thinks Punk is fucking adorable right after he's just woken up. Yeah, he's pretty sure that's it.
"You didn't mean it? You're sorry? Wait wait wait, Chris Jericho is apologizing? Alert the press! C'mon, Chris. What is it? You didn't just show up at my hotel room at damn near four in the morning to apologize for some things you said. What's up?" Punk's starting to get annoyed. Well, annoyed isn't the right word. He knows Chris isn't here just to apologize, he can tell by Chris' voice that there's a deeper meaning in his visit.
"Okay, I'm just gonna say this, because I've waited far too long not to. CM Punk...Phillip Jack Brooks...I love you." There he said it. He gets dead silent after saying those last three words, liking how they sounded finally being said out loud. He looks over at Punk, looking deep into his beautiful, dark eyes. Punk just sits there, speechless. Their eyes lock, and they stay silent for a few seconds more before Punk speaks, his voice very soft and quiet.
"Why haven't you told me, Chris?" The tone of Punk's voice is soft, almost soothing. Accepting may be a better word, though Chris isn't exactly sure how to interpret Punk's tone. His voice is very quiet, relaxed. Chris thinks it may have something to do with the fact that Punk just woke up, but his mind quickly pushes that thought aside, as if it were some odd idea that just has to be false.
"I thought you would hate me, even more than you already did..." Chris sighs after saying that. What was he doing? For all he knew, Punk still hated him. In his mind, he tries to attribute Punk's soft tone with the fact that he just woke up, but it's no use. He thinks, and hopes, that Punk feels the same way about him. Chris hopes that Punk isn't just really tired, that he actually might have feelings for him, that he might actually love him. Again, Punk begins to speak, still with a very quiet, relaxed tone.
"What? I don't hate you, Chris. I never did. Was I mad at you? Well, for a little bit, yeah. But...I mean, I got to be with you more and more,so...uh...yeah. Actually, I've sorta had feelings for you for a while now. Since you returned, really...I've never, uh...I've never told you because, I mean, you're Chris Jericho, and you're amazing and well I'm...I'm me. I just sorta never thought you would ever even pay me a passing glance, much less show up to my hotel room at four in the morning confessing your love for me..." Punk blushes deep red, surprising both himelf and Chris by what just came out of his mouth. Little does Chris know, Punk's been struggling to share his feelings, as well. He's so relieved that Chris showed up to his door, even though it was at four in the morning, right after WrestleMania. Chris stays silent. Did Punk just say he had feelings for him? He's not even 100% sure. Again, he tries to account what Punk just said to him being sleepy, but again, Chris' mind rejects the idea. He looks again at Punk, at how tired and afraid he looks. He wraps his arms around Punk, moving over and sitting as close as possible to him. Punk wraps his arms around Chris, laying his head on Chris' shoulder in the process.
"So, you beat me to it, I guess. But, now it's my turn. Chris Jericho, Christopher Keith Irvine...I love you." Punk says, almost whispering, his head still resting on Chris' shoulder, a soft smile dancing on his lips as he says those last three words. They stay like that for a while more, silent. Chris gives up trying to force Punk away in his mind. He's waited for months to do this, and now it's done. He stays there, holding Punk close for a bit longer before letting go of him and standing up, about to leave and go back to his own hotel room.
"Chris...can you,uh...can you stay with me?" Punk whispers, just barely audible by Chris, who's only standing a few feet away. Chris nods, not knowing really what to say, and crawls up into the bed, taking Punk's hand and almost dragging him with him to the top of the bed, pulling the covers up over them. Punk pulls Chris close, wrapping Chris' arms around him. Punk lays silently in Chris' arms as they quickly fall asleep.