"Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again ..."

Seth Rollins was lean, ripped, at his peak as he stuffed his gym bag into a locker - not just a locker, his locker - at Florida Championship Wrestling where he'd finally found his place. He knew he deserved to be here. He'd brought his game up to a level that he only wished for when he was in Tampa last. That was years ago, now. He'd been a child; fresh out of trouble with the authorities and in some kind of extreme puppy love with his degenerate boyfriend, Dean Ambrose. That was in the past. The last time he'd spoken with Dean was over a crackling phone line while Dean was wrecked on drugs and booze in Puerto Rico. After that call, Rollins had gathered his belongings and left the apartment they shared in East Philadelphia. Everything was in his name anyway and he simply moved without telling Dean. He could only imagine that Dean came home to an empty apartment aside from a box of Dean's items the landlady agreed to hold on to and the hard-living, hard-headed Dean decided that Seth wasn't worth hunting down.

As he stared into his locker, Seth ground his teeth together. He wondered how the hell it had happened for Dean. How did that fucking troublemaker manage his way to the FCW roster? Over the last few years, Seth had certainly heard plenty about Dean and knew he was doing well with his not-so-fictional persona and brute style. Sure, he had a following that was pretty strong and he'd been putting on good matches but he was mostly known for getting bloody and drunk with those CZW idiots. Every time Rollins referred to Combat Zone Wrestling as a bunch of "idiots," a little swell of guilt filled his chest. He knew that many of the guys working there were amazing wrestlers and belonged right there with him. He was just bitter; feeling as though Dean must've gotten into the WWE developmental program through some loophole for jackasses.

Just then, Rollins squeezed his eyes shut as he heard that gravel-bedded voice, "How ya doin' boys?" Ambrose breezed in as nonchalantly as if he were entering the ring at the state fair. It angered Rollins instantly. He heard the other guys greet Dean without the resentment that filled him. The tall, smooth-talking wrestler with the dirty-blonde messy hair had been around for almost a week and Rollins had still managed to avoid him. But every day felt like walking in a minefield, trying to avoid that initial conversation. He wished he'd just said "Hello" the first day and gotten it out of the way. Now it mattered. Now it was a thing. Now there was an obvious tension. It was only obvious to him and, he was sure that Dean felt it too but not the other guys. Although Ambrose did a great job of acting as if Seth was invisible. It was infuriating. It's all Seth thought about and he'd botched a move the first day Dean was near the ring. He gave a lightning-quick glance toward Dean who was standing with his toned arms crossed. The brunette was certain he saw a smirk.

Eventually, the ice would have to get broken. It looked it might be today. He heard William Regal speaking to Dean. He hated the way the legend seemed so impressed with Ambrose. "Didn't you come up in Tampa with Rollins? You both worked for old Don?"

A low chuckle came from Dean's throat. "Yeah, we, uh, we trained together for a little bit. I lost track of the guy though." Rollins could've choked Dean. But in honesty, it was exactly what happened. He'd disappeared from Dean's life on purpose.

"He's right over there." Then Regal's musical accent added those dreaded words. "Go say 'Hi'."

Seth was going to play this cool. He was going to turn and face Dean and extend a hand before the blonde could. He planned on looking right through Dean and letting him know that he had zero importance in his life. He turned around confidently to see Ambrose unzipping his bag and Regal was strolling away. "No, of course, you couldn't be decent about it," Rollins said through clenched teeth.

Dean stopped opening his bag and then - as slowly as ice melting - looked up. "Huh?" He looked confused as if Seth's anger was something he couldn't fathom. "What are you talking about?"

There was no erasing that moment from time. Ambrose was as cool as fucking James Dean himself. But Seth had a red, angry face and looked flustered and embarrassed. It was done. All the cards were face up on Seth's side of the table and Dean casually looked them over. "Really?" That's all Seth could muster. He looked around and noticed that no one had heard his original comment or was even paying attention. Though he did miss the sharp eyes of Regal who watched the exchange with muted curiosity. He even smiled a bit and then walked off, knowing he'd set something in motion. It was good for the ring; tension. And he'd had a feeling there was a lot of it between those two boys.

"Really, Seth." Ambrose answered quietly, extra calm, and lazily. "What do you want from me? It's a little late for me to say the right thing, don't ya think?"

Rollins knew goddamn well it was too late and what did he want from Dean? He was on the figurative ropes here. He ran his fingers through his hair and slipped it into a ponytail. He composed himself. "Forget it, man." He looked out over the locker room. "I'm just tired. I work my ass off like, all the time. So I'm pretty beat."

"Yeah?" Dean could see the fragile ego of his ex had shattered like cheap glass. "Well, you are the main draw, I'm sure." He smirked and licked his lips.

Rollins grew serious and decided not to play games. "You were and always will be a shit human being, Dean. You're a fucking jerk. Have your laugh. I'm done." Seth walked away quite calmly. Because he felt much calmer. He'd made the mistake of trying to play the player. That wasn't his style. He needed to be straightforward and be true to himself. He felt like a weight was lifted.

"Sorry," Ambrose called after him with amusement in his voice. Rollins gave him the bird over his shoulder. Dean laughed. "Alright then. Whatev…" His expression and demeanor sobered as Seth left the locker room. Dean elbowed the locker behind him with a swift strike. There was no way he could begin to deny that Rollins was still very much a part of him - every memory, every kiss, every fuck, every fight. And, especially, that last fight - over the phone and miles apart.

"Are you getting out to the ring?" William Regal's voice was soft yet made him jump. The Englishman smiled. "Or just having a go at the locker?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah." Dean stood confidently and smiled. "I was just lost in thought for a minute." He headed for the door.

"I see that," Regal said quietly. He followed. He had a feeling his days were going to become more interesting.