A/N: This story is, let's say, just for practice 'cause my writing skills are getting rusty lol. BTW, just to let you guys know, I based this one on kayfabe. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any angst at all 'cause Cena's loss was just a part of a story line. Enjoy!

Warnings: Contains angst, OOC-ness and dog-like Cena. And awful writing.

That match was everything for him. He had waited for a year, trained for months, showed up in Raw for weeks without stop to show to the world that he was not like him. He had absorbed every shot at him, comments, critiques, negative feedbacks and still, he kept on trying to stand on his own two feet, convincing himself that even if the people had turned their backs on him, he could still go on; he could still move on and the only way to prove himself was to face the man in the grandest stage of all time. That was the reason why he picked WrestleMania of all the live shows they had. Although in his heart, he was convinced that he was doing it for the fans, there was a little part of him that said it was all for the win. It was all to prove that he was better than him. That he was a better wrestler than he is.

A year of trash-talking, verbal and - sometimes – physical confrontations, John's confidence was slowly gaining as the months passed. The Rock still did his promos via satellite – a thing that still ticks John's nerves off – while he worked his ass off every week. Despite the man's appearances as the day of the event came close, John still wasn't convinced at The Rock's efforts. The guy had been away for too long that he couldn't keep the fans jumping on their seats without citing some old catchphrase and stuff. That made it easy to catch The Rock off guard and make him choke every now and then. Besides, the man had been saying the same things for a while; it was already kind of getting boring as it went on.

Then he made his mistake. A little mistake that cost him the match he had been preparing for since The Rock had called him out – and that went way back a year and couple of months ago. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried mocking the guy when he saw him lying on the ring. His ridiculous imitation of The Rock's "People's Elbow" didn't just cost him that once in a lifetime match. He was also positive that it made all of The Rock's fans – and quite possibly some of his own ones – mad for insulting the man by using his own move on him.

No matter how much he tried suppressing a sigh, John finally let out a shuddering one and at the same time, his stomach did another somersault. Along with the whistle of the wind breezing through him, his ears echoed the chants of the audience, the shouts of discouragement that sometimes – well, most of the time, lately – got him pissed off. He might not show it to the universe, denying the fact that he really wanted to embrace the hate, but god help him, he really wanted to. He thought he could let everything in from his ear and out to the other, but he was human, too, and he could still feel. He may act numb but he still felt like crap. What did the people want him to do, anyway? He worked his fucking ass every week, filling in for the absence of The Rock's presence on the show, he gave them a chance to see his classic gimmick and rapped in his throwback jersey after so many years, and still, the disrespect he received every time he appeared on the show was overwhelming that he couldn't stop asking. Am I not doing enough to please you people?

Lowering his head down, John closed his eyes. Damn, he had never felt like shit before until now. Not only emotionally but physically, too. To those people who claim wrestling is fake, let them try getting attacked by a "Rock Bottom" without flinching an inch. He was a big ball of pain that even a light poke would actually make him cry out loud.

Suddenly, the entrance to the rooftop swung open, slightly louder than needed, and John turned his neck towards the door to see who it was. He personally picked the place for him to mope alone; who in the world would want to go up to the rooftop at two in the morning?

The rooftop had few, dim lights that was why it took a couple of seconds before John recognized the man coming from the door. Much to his surprise, he was staring at the silhouette of CM Punk as the man walked closer to him, wearing a hoodie jacket and a confused look on his face.

"Cena?" Punk asked tentatively. Seemed like he couldn't see John clearly either. "What are you doing up here?"

"Should be asking you the same thing," John replied, smiling slightly at the other man. "Everyone's asleep. What are you doing up so late?"

Punk placed both his hands on the ledge where John was sitting on then stared up at the bitter man. "For your information, I don't sleep. I put people to sleep. And I'm not the only one who's awake. Dwayne's probably out on an after party. Also, you are up tonight."

Punk's claim made Cena chuckle for a bit before looking back at the night lights of Florida. "I stand corrected," he replied before taking a sip of his drink. On the corner of his eye, he could see Punk watching him but he was uncertain of the expression on his face. He tried his best to ignore it, though, and continued to act as if he did not care.

"You didn't answer my question, Cena."

Another chortle escaped John's lips when he heard what Punk said. Looked like he couldn't get this kid off his back tonight. When did he get so chatty anyway?

"I just wanted to be alone," John replied in a tone that said that the deal was over. After another drink, he gave a sideway glance at Punk then asked, "What about you?"

Seeing Punk's face clearly now, he could see that he wasn't buying the crap John was telling him. Well, the guy had been able to read him like a book anyway. Seemed like he was the only one who could, he got to admit.

He was expecting Punk not to answer the question when all of a sudden, the guy jumped to sit down on the ledge beside him and out of surprise, he gave him a lopsided smile. What was this kid up to now?

"I retained my belt, I celebrated, thought of taking the celebration up here then I changed my mind. You're sulking up here, aren't you?"

Saying all of that without a breath, John couldn't help but grin incredulously at Punk. And to think that this man didn't give a fuck about anyone other than himself. Shaking his head, he lowered his head down again. "Well, no shit, Sherlock."

He heard Punk let out an amused chuckle and somehow, it lightened up his mood. Well, ain't that a surprise. Grabbing a can beside him, John handed Punk a drink and grinned fully at him. "Here, take it."

Punk raised an eyebrow at him. "Cena, I don't drink beer."

"Don't worry too much. It's root beer."

With that answer, Punk laughed and grabbed the can from John's hand. And then, silence fell. Punk gulped his drink then stared at the sky, John kept his head low and stared at his two feet dangling in the air. It went on for minutes and for some, this silence may be awkward, but for John, it was comforting. Earlier in the locker room, most of his close friends gave him a sad, uncomfortable smile, telling him that he did his best, treating him like the most pitiful man alive. That was why he wanted to be alone tonight. At least he wouldn't be able to see the faces of the people he had let down.

"You know," Punk started and John held his breath. There was no doubt the guy was going to talk about feeling sorry for his defeat against The Rock; why would he even speak, anyway? So John braced himself until Punk continued with a laugh. "That was the silliest imitation of the People's Elbow I've ever seen."

John snorted out loud and ended up laughing heartily without even knowing why. Even Punk was chuckling beside him as he continued, "Seriously, dude, you were flailing your arms back and forth like you were dancing or something. Miz did it far better than you did, I swear."

Throwing his head back from too much laughter, John held his stomach and let out a wheezing sound just to stop himself for a while, although he was still sniggering every now and then. Shaking his head, he tried catching his breath then sighed, this time, smiling wholeheartedly. "That was the most regretful decision I have ever done."

"Really, man. You should be regretful. You looked goofy, with that smile on your face while you moved your arms. It was like you didn't know what you were doing."

John snorted again then moved his eyes towards Punk. "No, not that one. On a serious note, I shouldn't have tried doing a People's Elbow. I lost the match 'cause of it. And I'll be getting the worst boos from the crowd later on RAW, I bet."

And that was what John was dreading for. For once in his life, he was afraid to face the fans. He was humiliated of himself. What happened in the match earlier was an embarrassment; a bitch-slap to his cocky, arrogant face. He hated this uneasy feeling. Why did he have to suffer this ordeal for so long? Why him?

"Screw the crowd," Punk blurted out all of a sudden. "Screw the match. It's all fucking over, man. You lost, so what? You did your best, John. You were just caught off guard. You didn't lose 'cause you couldn't fight back. And fuck the crowd for not giving you the credit you deserve. You're a walking bruise now because you wanted to give them entertainment. For all I know, you're the winner, John, and that is because you never gave up."

Blankly, John stared at the man, surprised and amazed with the words he had used to get him back on his feet. Far from what he was expecting, the way he told John off was too different compared to the way his friends did. Chuckling, he told himself that this was CM Punk he was talking to. What made it better was recalling the fact that Punk was actually rooting for him and not Dwayne. A boyish grin spread across his face. Out of all the people who would cheer him up in the most bizarre way possible, it just happened to be the guy who almost got him fired months ago.

Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointing everyone who had trusted him to win his match, and his stomach gave another twist again, making him flinch this time. He slouched slightly, as if doubling over on his seat. Yeah, Punk was on his side, alright. Great job on letting the guy down.

Then, unexpectedly, he felt a warm hand resting on the top of his head, surprising him and making him turn to the man beside him. There he saw that Punk had moved closer to him, his right hand outstretched to his short, brown hair. At first, he would have wanted to ask the guy what was he doing and didn't he think that what he was doing was embarrassing? But when Punk started ruffling his hair, everything just seemed to have melted and he practically closed his eyes and relaxed as if he was a dog being petted by his master.

"Don't think about anything too much. You'll get crazy from overthinking."

John didn't have the energy to respond, or perhaps it was the comforting sensation he was feeling that he didn't want to speak anymore. His mind just shut down and he felt sleepy all of a sudden. He even had the urge to lay his head on Punk's shoulder and let him pet his head like this for a while. This day had been too tiring from what he was expecting, but maybe it was all worth it.

However, guilt won over and John didn't stop himself from raising his head toward Punk before saying in a broken voice,

"I'm sorry."

Punk frowned. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

"Pshh," Punk scoffed as he turned away from John. "Don't be. You didn't disappoint me, anyway. If you gave up in the middle of it all, then I would have been. But you didn't."

John found it funny how few simple words could make his mood better than before, and it was because of Punk, who, most of the time, 'causes mayhem in the WWE. Who would ever think that Cena would loosen up because of a man he had been feuding with twice already? It was all surreal that he shook his head once more, mumbling, "Thanks."

"No problem," Punk replied and he continued to stroke John's hair, much to the CeNation leader's relief. "You and I both have differences, but when you're troubled, just come to me, alright? I don't care if we've fought for so many times. I just want to let you know how much I respect you."

John smirked. "You don't have to go as far as physical touching."

"Jericho gave me an idea earlier," Punk answered with a shrug. "He ruffled my hair after he tapped out on my Anaconda Vise. Thought you could use some distraction or something."

"Well, it's working quite well, I got to say," John added with a chuckle. "Congratulations on retaining your Championship, by the way."

The champion beamed fully at Cena, grinning at him with gratitude and he returned the favor by patting John lightly on the head. "Well, congratulations on gaining my utmost respect."

And they stayed like that for minutes: with Punk's hand on John's head as he calmed the troubled guy down. They didn't even feel awkward at all – well, at least that was what John thought. Also, they talked. They talked and talked about Laurinitis and his team winning because of Eve, about how Hunter was taking his own loss against The Undertaker, how Jericho had congratulated him after their fight. They talked about anything and everything that would take John's mind off of the match he had with The Rock and in fact, it was really helpful. John's stomach had stop churning, his mind was away from the dreaded reactions of the audience later that day and his focus was only with Punk. He never thought that this guy was this forthcoming. Then he guessed that he never really got to know the guy.

Somehow this time, he wanted to know more.

Right in the middle of Punk's speech about Laurinitis' crappy management skills – which had become their hot, main topic for the night – John let out a yawn and as much as he wanted to try and suppress it, he really couldn't help himself. Punk chuckled when he saw it, although he removed his hand from the man's head and wiping his eyes, John gave the man an apologetic laugh.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just too tired."

"Well, you should have been asleep three hours ago. You really should hit the bed."

"Right," John replied with a nod. He couldn't disagree anymore 'cause seriously, his body was starting to ache now. As much as he wanted to stay and chat with Punk more, he got off the ledge, dusting his jean shorts off right after.

Then, Punk jumped off the ledge as well, following suit and smiling at the older man.

"Calling it a night, too?" He asked Punk as both of them walked toward the door. Punk placed both of his hands behind his head and smirked.

"I guess, or maybe I'll just read some comic before hitting the hay."

John laughed in reply. "If you need help getting to sleep, just give me a call and I'll knock you out with my fist."

Giving a sarcastic 'Ha-ha', Punk sniggered in response. "Yeah, as if you can knock the greatest WWE Champion out."

Placing a hand on the knob, the older man smiled, shook his head before stopping in front of his companion. Then spoke in a serious tone, "But really, if you got any problems, anything at all, just give me a call, alright? Consider it as payback for cheering me up."

Perhaps Punk was surprised with what John had just said for he dropped his hands from the back of his head and eyed the CeNation leader for a second, his eyes looking into John's blue ones. John thought Punk was going to brush him off, tell him that he didn't need his help or something, and that he could take care of himself. He even thought of Punk hitting him square in the face. But then the champion reached out, placed his hand on John's head once more and this time, ruffled his head a little too harshly.

"Get your ass to sleep, you big goof," Punk said with a laugh before removing his hand from John's head.

John smiled. Damn right he was going to sleep soundly tonight. And it was all thanks to him.