Title: 8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days
Rating: M for character death
Summary: 8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days too late.
Warnings: character death
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no harm is meant.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
A/N: This can be read on it's own but it's kind of a follow up to the Miz drabble under Story of my life.
8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days
That's what kept repeating over and over again in his head as he stared at nothing in particular. There was so much going on around him, it would have seemed impossible to tune them out but he did. The officer sitting in front of him asking questions, the ones hovering near the bathroom, even the insistent ringing of his cell phone couldn't break through his current haze.
He was pretty sure the phone call was Orton wanting to know where he was and why he hadn't showed up for their poker night. As for the officer, he had no clue what he was asking, only that his mouth was moving. He also knew that if it was possible for a man's heart to go from hopeful to dead in the blink of an eye, John Cena's should have stopped beating over 20 minutes ago.
**
John had invited Mike to come join the poker party and after much convincing, he had agreed. John could tell the smile he gave him was faked but at least he was making an effort.
Cena had watched Mike slowly descend into a depression one relationship after another. None of them lasting more than a few months, but the damage they'd done sticking around for sometime. He figured that if he could just get Mike to spend one night out with the guys, Mike would be able to relax and forget his problems for a while. Just a little reprieve from the loneliness, a little time to laugh and be laughed at, drink and be merry until the sun rose and the pain returned.
So they'd agreed on a time, 7:45 when John would come to his room so they could go the Randy's room together. It would just be Randy, Cody, Ted, Evan, John and Mike. Just real friends playing poker, drinking and making the most of the good things in life.
John showed up a little bit after 7:30 and knocked but received no answer. He tried again before he called Mike's cell leaving him a message to open the door and quit playing dress up.
Several unanswered phone calls later, an aggravated John called Evan wanting to know if the high-flyer had seen Mike. Receiving no's from the whole crew only fanned the fire since he figured Mike had just forgotten and fallen asleep drunk.
8 o'clock came and went seeing a highly pissed off John making his way the front desk to try and sweet talk a key from the young receptionist. 8:15 followed him into the younger superstar's room once he'd gotten the green light. A dark room greeted him but once he flipped on the lights he didn't see the young man sleeping, only his bag laying near the bed unpacked. Pretty much everything in the room looked untouched, the only evidence someone was there or had been there was the light seeping through from under the bathroom door.
He cautiously turned the knob and pushed open the door. The scene that welcomed him chilled his blood immediately, made his breath hitch and weakened his knees. He took a baby step into the room before his knees completely collapsed but he'd found his voice, screaming Mike's name over and over again.
Later he wouldn't be able to recall who came in after him, only that he was pushed back into the room while he heard the faint buzz of someone's voice. Probably calling 911, he really could have cared less at that point though. His heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel the dam breaking as a rush of emotions flooded his system and tears streamed down his face.
There had been black roses everywhere, the sink, the counter-top and all over the tiles but what really drew his attention was the claw-foot tub. Mike's pale, lifeless body sat slumped over in water filled with a deadly mix of color. Black roses swam around in crimson liquid. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened here but if more proof was need, that damn knife floating around in the water pretty much left no room for misinterpretation.
**
John was brought back to reality when he felt the officer get up and leave his presence. He looked around the room and noticed that the rest of the officer's were gone also. Mike's body had been wrapped, tagged with a possible time of death and sent off to the medical examiner as per policy. Some of the roses had spilled into the room taunting him, making sure he didn't forget what he'd walked in on a little while ago.
John stood from the chair, carefully taking a few steps to make sure his legs wouldn't give out on him again before he walked out of the room. Whatever was beating away in his chest could no longer be called a heart, no that had been ripped out and replaced with a black hole. How he still breathed, he didn't care to know.
He hurled his phone at the wall when it started ringing again not caring to talk to whoever it was.
Not wanting to talk to anyone for a very long fucking time, John made his way to his own room. Laying face down on the bed he thought he recalled being told to come down to the station tomorrow morning for more questions but he could have just imagined it.
8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days was how long he had waited to tell Mike he loved him. Had he not been such a scardy shit, he wouldn't be here trying to suffocate himself with his own pillow as the tears flowed again. He wouldn't have to live with the guilt and shame of knowing he could have prevented this or at least helped in some way.
8 months, 2 weeks and 5 days too late.