A/N: I wrote this piece a while ago and never got around to uploading it until now. Feedback always appreciated and welcomed!

Disclaimer: I only own the plot. Someone else is lucky enough to own the rest. I don't own the lyrics used as the title either.

Of all the people in this stupid hotel, Maryse thought, why did he have to be the one to follow me up here.

"Take a seat, Blondie. I have a feeling we're going to be out here for quiet a while." He sat on the cold concrete of the rooftop floor and pulled up his hoodie.

"What makes you say that?" She asked, rubbing her sleeve covered arms for warmth.

Punk just rolled his eyes, "First of all, I know you were about to jump," She looks down, not wanting to see the look on his face, " and secondly, I'm pretty damn sure that the door we came through just got locked."

She sighed and sat on the ledge Punk had just pulled her down from. He shook his head, "No, down here." He patted the ground. She frowned but obeyed and sunk down to the floor, leaning against the ledge, letting the coolness seep through her.

"What are you even doing out here Punk?" She asked, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Don't sleep much. Figured I might get some peace up here but all I found was your bony ass about to jump."

She glares at him, "My ass is not bony."

"It is, but that's not the point Blondie. You were about to kill yourself."

Maryse felt his seriousness engulf her. She liked it better when he used the word "Jump".

She looked down, "So? Why do you care?"

"I don't. I am slightly curious though." He lays down with his arms behind his head, like he's oh-so comfortable and for some reason it unnerves her. How can he be comfortable when she feels like she's about to freeze to death?

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Just falling asleep and freezing.

"Why would you want to jump off a building?" His lips twitched upwards into a small smirk, "Wouldn't that ruin your pretty little face."

"Shut up, Punk." She growled, her french accent becoming more predominant.

"Just think about all that crimson,"

She interrupts with,"Punk, knock it off."

"Pooled around you." He continues, completely tuning her out.

She can't help but spring forward at him and start yelling in her native tongue. "Va te faire foutre, trouduc!" She's hovering over him, yelling insults in french, but some how completely ignores how close they are. So close she's able to make out some jade specs and carmel hues in those eyes she once deemed soulless.

Actually, she still deemed him soulless. What kind of twisted, masochistic person stops someone from killing themselves only to ridicule them about it?

"Blondie, mind switching back to English? Or at least having the decency to come with some subtitles."

Maryse's eyes widened. "Decency? You want to talk to me about being decent?!" She pined his shoulders to the ground. "You make me sick! Really, Punk, do you have nothing better to do with your life? Is this your idea of fun? Pushing someone so hard until they decide they want to jump again."

Anger sweeps across his face and before Maryse knows it, she finds her back pressed against the concrete and him above her. His eyes seem black now, not even a hint of color in them. Just a dark charcoal pit that she didn't want to fall into.

She's scared now, absolutely frightened. Punk's never been known for his kindness. Quite the opposite actually, his reputation is based off of his wicked temper and strange, sarcastic humor. So having him above her with that menacing look scares the absolute shit out of her.

"Don't you know how good you have it? Don't you think I know about wanting to jump? You make me sick."

She refused to look at him and turns her head. Maryse eventually stops squirming and struggling and just gives up. She closes her eyes and focuses once again on the chill of the concrete.

With her eyes closed, she can't see Punk's disappointment but she can definitely feel it. He stands up and shakes his head at her. "What a damn shame, Blondie. I thought you would have more fight in you."

She can't help but to let out a small, pathetic little laugh. "Maybe I used to, but that girl is long gone."

"I don't think so." At that, Maryse sat up, head cocked to the side and wide eyed.

"What?"

Punk rolled his eyes. "Are you deaf? I said I don't think so. You're just holding back, Blondie, which is ridiculous. You haven't lost your fight, you've simply given up."

It bothered her that he seemed to see right through her, or at least acted like he saw right through her. That he could push all the right buttons to get her to snap, but she wasn't going to take the bait this time.

"So what if I have given up? My life isn't that important anyways. Let's be realistic, Punk, what good have I done for the world?"

"That doesn't matter. You still have time to do good if you want, and if you don't want to than screw it! Go be reckless, Blondie! Live a little. If your live sucks that bad then make it better."

Her lips lifted for a moment allowing her to smirk for a fraction of a moment. Who would have thought CM Punk was going to give her a pep talk about life, even if it was in his own bizarre way. The smirk quickly faded away however.

"It's not that easy."

"And why not?"

"It's just- It's...It's just not!"

"Why?" He pushed.

"I don't know, Punk, it's just not. All these people expect me to be so many different things and I'm tired of not rising up to their expectations. I'm tired of being a disappointment."

He threw his hands up in the air, "Forget about them! Forget about all of them. The only person who's opinion should matter is your own." He crouched down in front of her and took her face in his hands. "None of them matter. Don't you understand?"

"Understand what?" God, he was so confusing. No wonder she's bothered to make conversation with him before.

"You're better than them and your better than jumping off this fucking roof." He removed his hands from her face and sat down. He took off his jacket and tossed it at her. She raised her eyebrow at him. "Like I said before, we're bound to be out here for quiet sometime and I don't need to hear you complain."

"What a gentleman." She mumbled sarcastically, bust smiling all the same. She put the jacked on and warmed a bit.

"What are you smiling at?" He asked, his voice containing an annoyed edge and if Maryse didn't know any better, she would say he was almost embarrassed.

"Just at the realization that you actually do have a heart, and you care about me."

"Nice try. I'm just the poor sap who got stuck on a roof with a suicidal chick."

She threw her arms around him anyways and, for his sake, pretended not to notice that he wasn't pushing her off. "Thanks Punk."

"Don't mention it, Blondie." Maryse could sense his usual smirk. "Seriously, don't."