I have writer's block.
One-shot to overcome it. :P Obviously. Don't like slash? Don't read.
Silent and Sleepless
Silence.
He never gets enough of it.
Silence.
Burns.
Silence.
Slips inside of his body until there's nothing left of his fragile little bleeding heart.
Silence.
Condenses the blood in his heart.
Silence.
Randy Orton hates the silence.
It's around midnight.
Randy bites into a sandwich and apparently, he's nocturnal because this is his uneaten lunch and he looks through down and he realizes how high he is because he can barely see the bright color of his grass well enough and the huge tulips that he'd seen before are now yellow dots and he's never really been scared of heights so he doesn't really care but it's the tranquility of this place.
He hears the sound of footsteps and his head towards to see the man who's going him for a late night midnight snack which Randy still calls lunch in his head as John Cena sits down beside him.
"What the hell are you doing on my roof, Cena?" Randy spits out, hot acid in his mouth and he doesn't really care about how he'd gotten up here but remembers that it's easy to just climb up that tree over there.
"Saw you on the roof and I thought you were Miz so I decided to come up here and make fun of you, but I realized that this man has no hair." John explains as Randy smacks him at the back of his neck. "Owie."
Randy breaks into laughter and John's blood boils, as he feels the hot blood burn and he stares at Randy as he falls onto the roof, laughing so hard that Randy lets John take the sandwich from his hand and bite through it. Randy's laughter finally subsides into nothing as he stares at John Cena with a grin. "Did you just say 'owie'? What are you? Five?"
"Hey!"
Randy takes his sandwich back from John and bites through it, licking the contents off his face when he feels as if there's something sticking on his face and he stares at John who crosses his arms. "You really are five."
"Am not!"
"Are, too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"You're acting five now, too," John points out to Randy who bites into the last bite of his sandwich and licks the bread crumbs off his face. "Speaking of five years old, that's when I met you…"
Randy flinches at the memory.
"…and punched your guts."
"I made up for it!" Randy exclaims. "I swear I did not steal the damn picture of yours. It doesn't even look good!"
"You're just jealous of my artistic vision," John interjects.
Randy breaks into laughter again and the annoyance builds up in John's body as the patience he's had fades into nothing.
"I have an artistic vision!"
"And Matt Hardy loves mustard," Randy rolls his eyes. "You do not have an artistic vision, Cena."
"What do I have then, Orton?"
Randy's eyes go towards John's jeans, "I know what you have…"
"Damn!" John exclaims, suddenly realizing what Randy's going to and blushes heatedly as John covers his face, trying to hide the pinkness of his face away from Randy.
"I saw you blush, Cena. You don't have to hide it."
"But I'm a man! I can't blush!"
"Stop whining!"
"No!"
"And a man? Really? Then stop whining like a girl!"
John finally lets his hand slip away from his face when he feels the heat from his face fade and the coldness enter all over again as the silence sinks between them and Randy goes back to trying to eat.
"What the hell are you doing out in a roof anyways?"
"…I'm having lunch."
"In midnight?"
"Apparently."
"Bat."
"I'm a hot bat."
"In your dreams…why are you really out here?"
"I can't sleep…but since you're as boring as Twilight, I might fall asleep." Randy says, looking up at the sky.
"You fell asleep yet?"
"No!"
"Now?"
"No!"
"I'm going to fall asleep then," John says as he closes his eyes but then he feels Randy's mouth press against his and John's eyes flutter open as Randy lays on top of him, his mouth on his, his tongue in his mouth—John pulls off and stares at him in confusion. "I'm wide awake."
Randy licks his lips. "I'm sorry."
"Why? You obviously have something for me."
"John," Randy sits up and John sits up beside him, feeling Randy's body press against his, with both of their eyes staring at each other. "It's too late."
"You kissed me…you made me want…"
"I'm sorry."
John punches him in the stomach, and Randy lets one hand clutch onto his stomach. Randy presses his head to John's chest, clutching onto his stomach. "It's just too late."
Randy looks up into the black night's sky.
No stars.
Of course.
"What happened to us, Cena?"
"That's the problem right there—it was never us. It was just me and just you. Never us." John says, holding onto Randy's back and brushing his hand against his back, feeling the coolness of his t-shirt. "And now, it really is too late. You're married. I'm married. We just picked the different road. Went our own ways."
"We're stupid."
"I wish we weren't because right now, I might be with the best man in the entire world," John's lips press against Randy's forehead and he watches as Randy's eyes fill with tears. "Goodbye."
"I thought that goodbye always meant a second chance."
"No, not this time…this is goodbye…for good."
John slips out of Randy's grasp and he watches John move away, with a sad smile and broken eyes.
Randy stares at John as he walks away.
"I…why'd I let you go?"
Randy asks himself, curling up into a ball and staying there until the break of dawn, thinking, breaking, and hating.
Randy Orton walks into the building with the always sad smile and the droopy, tired blue eyes as he dumps his t-shirt there but then, something catches his eyes.
A hint of white.
He rips the white paper away and looks at it.
It's so white.
He opens it and instantly, he feels weak and fragile and frail.
It's a picture.
John's picture.
A note's attached to it.
You're right…I have no artistic talent.
The little piece of art had made Randy want to jump inside of the picture but he doesn't and he instead stares so blankly and longingly at it. As if he wishes that really is the reality they're in.
…I love you.
Those are the words that make Randy break.
It's so hard to say goodbye…
He hears a scream.
Later on, as he replays the video to hear that scream of horror and terror…
He realizes it had been his scream.
Silence.
He never gets enough of it.
It's burning me.
Silence.
Burns.
Too hard.
Silence.
Slips inside of his body until there's nothing left of his fragile little bleeding heart.
Bleeding to death.
Silence.
Condenses the blood in his heart.
Until they can't flow.
Silence.
Randy Orton hates the silence.
All for too many obvious reasons.
Silence.
Randy Orton hasn't spoken a word since he had gotten that picture from John Cena. He hadn't spoken a word since he'd seen himself scream. The terror. The anguish. He has to hide himself. He's always hidden himself. He writes everything in Post-It notes and draws instead because he feels as if he's lost his voice when he's heard himself scream.
He hasn't spoken a word and John Cena hasn't either since he'd heard Randy's scream.
The pain just doesn't fade.
They feel like corpses.
They can watch and look but not speak.
And that's how the word had always been…
Dead.
They haven't spoken a word since their heart bled to nothing because after all, what's the point of screaming if no one's going to listen?
They spend their time staring at the ceiling at night. The ceiling they've both planted black for the starless night and they hug themselves because they don't want to feel so alone anymore.
They've always been sleepless.
Because apparently, the dead don't need to sleep.
They haven't spoken a word since their eyes just speak for them.
And they doubt they ever will.
I don't know how the end happened. Anyways… get ready for a heap of slash one-shots since I really have serious writer's block and these help...this one didn't do much though. And I really didn't want to post this story but at the same time, I can't resist. You get what I mean?
Review??
;) Sam