Ahem. I'm back!
This is an introspective piece about the closing events of Monday's RAW, from Seth's POV, with a few minor details changed. Please enjoy.
It's the ebb and flow of a hurricane.
The warmth of his brother's body around him, the deafening cheers of a joyful crowd, the lights beating down on his bruised skin, wet with sweat and blood and exhaustion.
The tender touch of his brother's hands on his skin as they celebrate their win, bodies pressed so close they melt into one, the pain in his bones fading away with Dean's close grip.
The smooth leather of the belts in his hands, colors bright under the hot lights; a reminder of what he is, how far he has come, how hard he has fought, how much he has done.
Dean steps back, separates their bodies, stares at the crowd outside the ring. Seth immediately returns to his side, one magnet endlessly, hopelessly drawn to another, for better or for worse, and presses his title to Dean's.
In one movement, everything they have worked for is lost. All the nights they stayed up late, side by side in the darkness with nothing to light them but the crimson glow of a lone alarm clock, voices echoing in the quiet stillness as they tried to repair the fragments of their friendship, of their brotherhood, of their love. All those moments when Dean started to let him back in, when Dean started to forgive, when Seth started to believe they had glued the last piece of their bond back into place and finally mended all his desperate wrongs, lost to time and fire and ice.
Seth is down on the canvas, his meaningless piece of gold splayed out next to him. Pain radiates through his weary muscles, through his worn-down heart, through his aching bones. Just one hit, over in a second that felt like eternity.
He rolls onto his side, finds Dean on his knees, face torn into anguish. He sees so many emotions pass over his lover's face in those few seconds – the wordless pain of a heart breaking, of a heart giving up, giving in; confusion, regret, melding together and settling into raw anger, so blindingly red Seth almost feels it before he receives it.
"It's okay," he says, as if his words will fix the damage that has already been done, fix their relationship falling apart in his hands, like it did all those years ago. But he was doing the breaking then, shattering it and tearing it into pieces, burning it until there was nothing left but the ashes of the life they'd built together and hate in his heart. If he ruined it once, he can make up for it by saving it now.
Dean stares at him for a long moment. Something twists in his face, and he ends up on top of Seth's body, hurling fists and spitting harsh words as Seth attempts uselessly to defend himself, to block out the pain of his brother's blows laying waste to his bones.
His brother pauses, cupping Seth's face in his hands, and there's something almost gentle in his touch, something like home in the midst of his home being torn to pieces, and Seth involuntarily reaches out in kind, fingers rasping along the edges of Dean's beard like they're still lovers in bed waking up to the morning sun splayed over their skin.
The tenderness doesn't last very long, and soon Dean's back to throwing punches, most of them connecting and rattling Seth down to his core. He can't fight him off, can't hold back the rushing torrent of anger emanating from his lover. All he can do is hope Dean will find what he is looking for in the wildfire of emotions and hope there will still be pieces left to pick up after the storm.
Dean grabs him by the hair, yanks him to his feet and hurls him out of the ring. He lands in a heap against the crowd barricade, lights above the ring swirling in his vision like stars against a dark sky. His face is wet, maybe just from sweat, but maybe from tears, too; he doesn't think he's been crying, but maybe his subconscious recognizes the agony in his soul, the way it's been ripped apart as Dean sinks his fingers into his flesh, tearing even deeper until there's nothing left to tear, until he's ripped apart all that Seth is, all that Seth knows.
He struggles to get his bearings, weakly attempting to drag himself into a seated position, but Dean doesn't even offer him that chance, pulling him back up on his feet only to toss him, like a limp ragdoll, into the corner where the ring crew sits. As he lies there on the floor, he curls around himself in an attempt to escape any more punishment, but still Dean isn't through, kicking at him as if he's lower than the dirt on their boots, the cracked asphalt outside the arena, the scummy floors of questionable motel rooms from years past.
Dean is yelling something at him, but all that comes through is the sound of his voice; raw and frayed with pain and anger, and the mere sound of it feels like a stake through Seth's heart. It's pain he hasn't heard directed towards him since four years before, when Seth made his greedy, desperate mistakes, left behind all he knew for something he didn't want to know.
This must be his overdue punishment, all he is worthy of, for what he had done to Dean; for using him, for promising he would stay and then leaving, for tearing him to pieces and not caring what was left. Now Dean will do the same to him, and nothing will ever be the same.
Dean attacks him once more time before he lets go, this time hurling Seth headfirst into the concrete floor, having torn away the mats as if to demonstrate he wasn't allowing Seth any mercy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean throw his title on the floor.
Face soaked with sweat, blood, exhaustion, tears. Body bruised and broken, a heart dripping blood, a heart permanently wounded. The crowd's loud boos surround him as he lies on the floor, his useless title glinting gold from the sidelines.
As Dean walks away, Seth knows he has nothing left.