Alone sucks. Or rather, that was what AJ thought. Maybe it was because he'd been drinking pretty much since he'd gotten back to the hotel. He hadn't had to be alone, of course - he could've gone out with Christian and Tomko and whoever - but he hadn't felt like it. So now he was alone. And it sucked. And he only had himself to blame for it - for everything, actually.
He lifted the beer bottle to his mouth and took a swig, leaning back into the cheap hotel armchair. He wasn't sure how much he'd had - after all, he was still thinking straight. Sort of. Maybe hovering somewhere between buzzed and drunk.
He did know that this was the last one, which was a pain in the ass. He should've thought of sneaking up to Christian's room and pinching some of his earlier, or stocking up on the way back, or something. It wasn't like beer was hard to find. And he couldn't do anything about it now. He was too drunk to drive and he couldn't be bothered to walk anywhere. If he'd been out with the guys, he could've really gotten stuck in - gotten really hammered - but he didn't really want to be around Christian right now.
So he was here alone and they were out having fun. Even though going out for drinks had been his damn idea in the first place.
And the evening had started so well, that was the annoying part. Christian had seemed pretty keen on the idea of the after-party - his idea - and that was always a plus. And Christian had won his match. AJ had watched the whole thing - well, almost the whole thing. To be honest, he'd left as soon as Christian picked up the win. Well, he didn't want to be late to pick him up from the parking, lot, did he? And how the hell was he supposed to know that Sting and Abyss would turn up?
AJ sighed, staring despondently at the wall. He almost thought he could see the events playing out on the cream paint, like a TV screen that only he could see. He should've guessed that they'd be there. Abyss and Sting were psychos - it was so obvious that they'd pull a stunt like that. Only a moron wouldn't work that out.
Step forward, AJ Styles, The Phenomenal Dumbass.
And he had to be slow on the uptake when Christian came in, obviously scared shitless, but he'd been too busy thinking that he would've fought Abyss a hundred times over for Christian at that moment. After all, he'd volunteered to take on Abyss and Sting at the same time, just to get Christian's attention.
Being chosen to go with Christian had been pretty cool. Although thinking about it now, it was probably more to do with the fact that Sting and Abyss would've flattened AJ before Christian could've gotten out of the building rather than because Christian wanted his company, but still. It was awesome. And he'd dorked out about it.
And then he'd fucked it up. Ran away from those two monsters like a scalded cat. Sure, discretion was the better part of valour, as Christian always said, but he had a duty to protect Christian, right? He shouldn't've run. He should've stayed and fought.
He knew Christian was pissed about that.
"Ah fuck it," he muttered under his breath, voice gently slurring. He necked the rest of the beer and dropped the bottle on the probably expensive shag carpeting. Who the hell would notice if he got beer on the carpet?
No-one, that's who.
Just like no-one gave a damn about him. He could call himself "The Phenomenal AJ Styles" as much as he wanted, but the fact remained that nobody gave a damn what he did, and what he did was never good enough. Not for the fans, not for Tenay and West, not for anyone. And especially not for Christian.
And there was Christian coming up again. Anyone would think he was gay for the guy or something.
AJ worried about that, sometimes. Late at night. When he was thinking about Christian at really inappropriate times. For God's sake, he liked girls! He dated girls, he screwed girls, he loved girls. He was not gay. No matter what the guys said when they pointed out how attached he was to Christian, how he never stopped damn well touching the guy. And he didn't care if they called him a fag. They were joking, anyway.
Only he did care. And he wasn't sure if they were joking.
And he was out of beer. Damn it. Damn them. Damn everything.
He'd show those bastards. If Sting and Abyss were here, right now, he'd show all of them. He'd take those psychos on single-handed. Sure, he'd get his ass handed to him on a plate, but he'd damn well try it. He had just right level of Dutch courage and stupidity to risk it. Then Christian would be in his debt. Then Christian would be answering to him.
He liked that idea. More than he probably should.
He liked having anything that Christian didn't. It was practically the only way to get his attention. Whether it was his beer or some info that Christian didn't have, he always felt a rush of smug satisfaction when he was in the driving seat. Metaphorically speaking. Hell, he rarely got to ride shotgun. Driving was Christmas, Hallowe'en and New Year's rolled into one.
Damn. Talk about getting off track.
He really needed another drink. And maybe somebody to pound some sense into his stupid head before he did something he'd regret later. Like caring more about Christian than he should. You can't afford to care about people like that in this business: it ends in heartache. He should really know that by now.
AJ just never learned.
He stood up and made for the door, grabbing the door key on the way. He was going down to the hotel bar and he was going to drink until he was completely shit-faced, and there wasn't a damn thing that anybody could do to stop him. He just wanted to forget all about this shit for five minutes, all about Abyss and Sting and Tomko and his own idiocy and everything to do with wrestling.
He could never forget about Christian, though, no matter how much he drank. That was the problem with love: not even alcohol can kill it.
He let the door slam shut behind him and made for the elevator.