A/N: Just a small drabble based on the song Mirror by Lil Wayne/Bruno Mars. Trigger Warning for mentions of blood and self harm. Reviews as always are loved. tumblr: psychrollins. (title and summary are lyrics from the song.)

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It had been a while since Seth had been like this. He'd stood in front of a mirror many, many times in his life time; but not all the times were to do his hair or check his clothes. Some of them were in the dead of night when he couldn't quite make up his mind whether he wanted to be alive or not.

It's one of those nights, even though he hasn't had one since he was about fifteen back in Davenport. He'd had tear stained cheeks and bloodied knuckles from the fight he'd had with the wall. It's fourteen years on but it all looks the same.

The mirror is different, though. This one is in a cheap hotel bathroom rather than the large stand up mirror that was in his bedroom. This one is dirty and streaked as hell with chips and cracks in the corners. They tempt Seth to rip it off the wall, crush it to pieces and bathe himself in glass.

It's not an entirely different situation, however. Once again Seth has found himself completely alone in the world. Fourteen years on he has championship gold wrapped securely around his waist but it's nothing like he'd dreamed of. Back then, despite the throbbing pain of his broken knuckles and the lump the size of a fist in his throat, he'd told himself that he'd make it. He'd have it all, the career, the family, the friends, the money; everything. And he'd gotten that, for the span of nearly three years he'd had everything he had dreamed of when he was a teenager.

Then greed had settled in like a poison. Seeping through him and tainting him until he was ill enough to throw it all away for more money, more fame. But at what cost? He has the fame, being the WWE World Heavyweight Champion and the WWE United States Champion gets you places, makes you known. It also makes him a lot of money, enough money to do whatever the hell he wants.

But he has no one to share it with. He could have, had he just waited a little while. A year and a bit ago he'd got a boyfriend and a brother and a couple of close, loyal friends and they were all he could have ever asked for. Back then, once the poison had settled in, he hadn't seen them like that. Seth had only seen them as weight on his journey to the top.

How wrong he had been. How wrong the man in the mirror had been all those years ago. His fortune, his fame, it didn't come with home comforts. It came with cold beds and aching muscles with no one to massage them. It came with death glares and pretending to hate someone you love. It came with silent rooms, blood soaked towels and whiskey on the floor.

Seth was back to that place in his head he was fourteen years ago. Hating himself with every fibre of his being and wanting to destroy himself from the outside in. Hating everyone around him and wanting to burn down the buildings that house who he loved but had pushed into the arms of another.

The man staring back at him in the mirror taunts him, and his fingers burn and itch just to tear it down and burn it. Seth doesn't know whether he'd be able to pick up the pieces.