AN: The title is taken from two songs, both with the same title-one by Bastille and the other by Mayday Parade.
Dean Ambrose is rarely rendered speechless. He is the master of the microphone. He is the mouthpiece. But tonight, he is beyond words.
He wishes he could swear. Just curse Seth Rollins and damn him to the deepest pits of hell. But the words just won't come, and he hates it because he doesn't know why they won't.
He wishes he could hate. Hate and anger would be so much easier. He has taken so many chair shots over the years, but the ones he's taken tonight are doubly painful. They radiate all over his body like a wicked reminder. But that traitorous thing in his chest is planting other ideas in his head—ideas that involve running out to Triple H and Randy Orton, beating them until they can't stand anymore, and begging Seth to come back because Dean cannot be without him. If he could, he would have walked away from the summit back in March. Maybe he should have.
Not Seth. Not Seth. Not Seth.
Lost in his mantra, Roman Reigns barely notices the man with the empty gaze stumbling along beside him. Because it's simply not right. It's snow in August. Hundred-degree weather in December. It's just a nightmare, a terrible nightmare borne of the feud that began in April.
Unfortunately, the stinging pain in his back begs to differ.
Was it only last night that he was laughing through the pain at Seth's worried, whipped-dog expression as the trainers examined his wounds? Was it only last night that he was crawling to Seth and gripping his hand after the match like it was a lifeline? He wonders vaguely what he did between then and now so he could take back whatever it was just to keep Seth.
Dean looks at Roman, gauging. He wonders how Roman is feeling. They've been together so long, he can usually tell right away. But Roman is closed off. There's suddenly an invisible barrier—a shield—blocking Dean. It summons up an unexpected rage. He's already been abandoned once tonight. Does he have to be abandoned again?
As he's thinking this, his hand forms into a fist and he clocks Roman in the jaw. It's as if some restraint in his brain snapped, and he's just going with every whim of his mind. A restraint, he now realizes, that Seth must have unwittingly put there at some point. Dean's blue eyes challenge Roman to react, to give him attention. But the older man just blinks blankly at Dean as if he's a stranger. He rubs the area of impact and just walks on, completely nonplussed. It's crushing, and Dean feels like a child again.
Roman can feel his jaw throbbing from where Dean punched him. Under normal circumstances, he would ask what was wrong with Dean. He might get mad, even. But that would mean getting involved again. Involvement led to trust, and trust led to attachment. And attachments, as tonight proved, just didn't pan out in the end, even when you thought they would.
He can see that Dean was hurt. He looks like a little boy now, hunched and curled up on himself. A small part of Roman wants to comfort him because he knows where Dean is coming from. He knows how much the other man fears being left behind. But he can't muster up the energy to give that comfort. It's like his feelings are slowly being packed into a box.
As both of them trudge on in heavy silence, they conclude, separately, that they have to wait. That maybe Seth has a good explanation again. Dean privately counts the punches he will throw once he hears it. And Roman struggles with the fact that whatever Seth says, he will take it without question again, and he'll allow himself to get attached once more.
But what they both fear deep down is that there won't be a good reason. That Seth's just…gone. And if he is, how long will they last?