I've Crossed The Line
It was never supposed to last. It was never supposed to mean anything. How it managed to slip his mind that he was walking into a legitimate relationship, he doesn't know; it might have crept past when he was busy having mind-blowing sex with the most beautiful man he's managed to lay eyes on since Shawn walked away. Yeah, that made some sick kind of sense, didn't it?
Or maybe he's just a giant jackass who is going to be spending plenty of time in hell as soon as death rolls around to kick him in the ass. Seems more likely to be the latter because he knows himself far too well. Working here has taught him to know himself better than anyone else, and nothing has changed just because they dragged the Evolution stable out of the mothballs.
Which, why the fuck did they do that anyway? He has no answer for that. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but thinking it over now and he isn't sure he wants to make a commitment for this kind of feud. Even if he can still move in the ring when he has to, he's older, beat down, and quite enjoys having his matches limited to only so many per month if only because he cares about his health. He's had to deal with more action while in this feud, though.
Not that it isn't worth it, in a way. Putting over the next generation of stars is important, and for all his shit talking and "regret," he knows this team will go on to be something great whether they stay together or not. Yes, he is still a little iffy about Rollins, but Shawn more or less called him an idiot for worrying and assured him the kid still needed to develop. He has that time.
He's still a little green, but fans love him and want him around. The pause on the other line made him feel like an idiot; it was designed for that. Just let him work his way up and he'll be fine.
Which Vince wasn't as convinced, but as long as Rollins had somebody on his side, he was in no danger of being shipped back to NXT or, worse, relieved of his contract. Besides, the company was losing all of its smaller guys, and while he doubted them, he knew the fans loved them.
They also, incidentally, loved all three of the guys on the team and would likely go to hell and back to make sure they stayed. That kind of attention can't be taken for granted anymore.
Not to mention all of the heat they've taken for waiting so long to pin the title on Bryan. And it still mildly amuses him that Vince putting McIntyre down hasn't really ruined the guy.
The fans always choose the ones they love, though, and he should know this by now.
Once upon a time, he was that guy they chose over the others, and he remembers that all too well.
But now, it's time to deal with the new guys... And he's done far more than just deal with them.
If Vince ever finds out just how much he's done, he will be ousted from the company and God only knows what the chairman will let slip to the press about his dalliances with the talent.
At least Stephanie already knows and doesn't care. Then again, neither of them have been particularly good at remaining faithful. It was always an understanding not to value fidelity.
But this? This is not good. At least before, he only messed around with guys on about the same level with him, and it never meant anything more than sex. No matter who it happened to be with.
How many times did he tell himself it always had to mean less than emotion because otherwise he would be compromising himself? He can't very well fall in love with someone and be married to the boss's daughter, so he made sure to avoid anyone he felt anything but lust for.
This, though? Is more than lust. It started out as just lust and he was confident he could keep it there because he isn't an idiot and he has done this before. Made for a nice way to pass the time.
It isn't like he's old enough to be his father. Sixteen years of difference isn't that much, right?
The fact he even has to ask himself just shows how pathetic he is and how out of hand this has become since it started. Logically, he should back out of this now and walk away while he still has everything to lose and not after he's lost everything, but he doesn't think he can. Loving from a distance is a hell of a lot more painful than he has the capacity to handle.
He's a piece of shit. No way around it. No matter how he tries to spin this to be something other than his fault, it's his fault just the same. Going after a guy who should have been a fling and turned into something more... He's been more faithful to him than he has to his own wife.
Does that make him more pathetic? He thinks it does. It should, at any rate.
And being this pathetic makes him want to smash his face against a wall until it starts to bleed.
Like right now? He shouldn't be watching bare fists collide with the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling, but he is. He isn't in here to train, considering he's already done that today, and none of his normal buddies are in here. The younger guys are instead, working on beefing up. And he is probably making some of them nervous, but he can't actually bring himself to leave.
Maybe he just needs to bitch Randy into training later in the day with him. They can train at this time, with the younger guys, and then he's a little less creepy, isn't he?
Are you seriously sitting here and trying to think of a way to be here when he is so you can gawk?
Yes, he is. His shame must have died somewhere along the line or something. Damn it.
Dragging his eyes away from his... No, he's not labeling it. Instead, he glances over to where Ambrose is holding onto another heavy bag so Rollins can attempt all sorts of spinning kicks and flips. It's scary and a little breathtaking to watch just how well he can move.
The three of them are so fucking different, really. But they make a great team and he should have learned to appreciate that long ago before he called Shawn to bitch. He really does feel like an ass now, and he is pretty sure his will be handed to him plenty of times during this feud. Hopefully, at any rate. These three need to go over. Luckily, they already are.
He tells himself it's for the business, but that's not entirely true.
He wants them to go over for them, which is ironic considering the potential break-up was orchestrated as part of his ideas. Only the fans kept it from happening, really.
And he's glad they kept it from happening because as good as the three of them are apart, they're better together where they can stand in each other's corners and provide that brotherly support.
Not to mention it's nice to know that his... No. No labels. Just that he has someone with him.
As if sensing Hunter's thoughts, Roman stops working the heavy bag and rakes a hand through his hair, peeling sweat-sticky strands of long black curls from his face and forcing them back behind his shoulders. He doesn't put his hair up like the others do when he works out, and Hunter has no idea why. He never thought to ask. Asking would lead to talking about their personal lives, and they've done their level best to keep that all out of the bedroom. No, he has done that by trying to manipulate the situation and make damn sure Roman would never be able to instigate a conversation with him. Part of that includes wreaking havoc on the younger man backstage, and nothing quite makes him feel like shit so much as that does.
You can't bully the guy you have sex with and feel good about it. It's just not possible.
Smoky eyes flash in his direction, and he holds the stare for longer than is probably safe especially considering the fact everyone around them will assume it's tension and spread rumors. That's the last thing they need: more rumors. But finally, Roman breaks eye contact and returns to hitting the bag, hard enough to make it swing on its chain. Weighted bags are a bitch in that they move, which is why Ambrose is probably holding the bag for Rollins. Someone needs to hold the back for Roman because he looks like he's about to start hitting it harder.
Someone, not him. But he makes that correction long after he's started across the room toward the younger man. Roman's eyes dart up to watch him, flashing with distrust, but Hunter simply stops the bag and turns to face Roman. And of fucking course everyone is now staring at them, trying to puzzle this together without being too obvious about staring in the first place.
He splays a hand across the fabric of the bag, making eye contact with Roman once again while also keeping an eye on his teammates over his shoulder. Ambrose and Rollins are on alert, ready to sprint over and help if need be, but they don't know they have no place in this.
"Someone should hold this for you," he finally says, nodding toward the bag and watching Roman's eyes drift a fraction of an inch. "Make sure it doesn't swing out of control."
The tension leaves Roman's body slightly. "Probably."
"So I'll... Hold it. For you." Hunter steps behind the bag, breaking the eye contact between them, and gets a steady grip on the bag like he's done so many times for other wrestlers.
There is a pause during which he wonders if Roman is going to continue hitting the bag or not, and then the first blow lands and he has to snap his head back or risk getting his nose smashed by the bag. Roman hits hard. He forgets that sometimes, but not right now. Not any time soon.
Something must be wrong with him. He lands hits hard and fast, clearly working out some kind of anger or frustration because this kind of hitting isn't good for training. But Hunter says nothing, not where everyone can hear, and simply holds the bag until the hits stop.
"Roman, man are you o—Roman." The sharp tone of Seth's voice is all but ignored as Roman suddenly stalks off, an angry growl ripping from his throat that makes Hunter jump.
Is Roman okay? No. No, he can't be, and that's ultimately why Hunter follows him.
He catches up with him in the unoccupied showers, where Roman has dropped into a sitting position with his head between his knees. Considering no one else is around, Hunter doesn't hesitate to kneel beside him and rest a hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles.
"Why are you even here?" Roman demands, and Hunter frowns slightly at the words before he has to remind himself it is a fair question. He tries to keep away as much as possible unless they're in the same hotel room, after all. "Why are you watching me? You said—"
Hunter stops him, holding up a hand until that deep voice dies away. "I... I just... Roman, I..."
The lack of words seems to say more than he ever could, because Roman just nods and leans against him. For a moment, it's just the two of them. And it's gone too far, but so fucking be it.