He was leaning against his car, parked in the shadow of one of the trees dotted around the parking lot, almost invisible to the eye in the just-fallen night.

Cody stepped out of the arena building, swinging the metal door shut behind him, blinking out the warm light that spilled from within. He adjusted the strap of the bag that hung off one of his shoulders, then looked up and around the dim and almost completely abandoned parking lot. He sniffed the night air.

It all felt too easy. Too simple, too mundane. Like walking out of work on any other ordinary day, already mentally preparing himself to come back and do it all over again. But it wasn't any other ordinary day. He wasn't coming back. The last of what they had of him was now in the bag hanging off his shoulder.

He had come to get the last of his things, small things left in buses or boxes. He hadn't needed to come, really, he could've had someone drop it off or mail it, but there was something about closing the door all the way yourself, rather than having someone do it for you. He hadn't needed to arrive early and watch the show, either, but he had wanted to what his friends do what they love, what he loved, one last time. Wanted to feel that electricity, their energy. Breathe it in.

There hadn't been any grand gestures when he finally left. No emotion-filled speeches or teary eyes. He had just picked up his things and gone. Like that. A few people had given him nods as he passed them, small smiles, and that was the closest to a goodbye he could've asked for from any of them. Dolph Ziggler, of all people, stopped him just before the door, still in his gear, hair still wild and flying everywhere, and gave him a clap and a squeeze on the shoulder. He paused, for just a moment, studying Cody's face, and he seemed like he wanted to say something, something more, but then seemed to decide a smile would suffice, and continued on his way. Cody had seen a sadness in his eyes, a kind of aching loneliness and bitterness and remorse, and he could understand it, he supposed; they had been the last of their kind, a generation of lost kids who had tried so hard, who had possessed so much enthusiasm and motivation and potential, shunted aside for a couple of bigger, better, shinier guys. And Dolph was seeing another one of them go.

Cody sighed into the empty air.

He had thought he wouldn't feel sad, because he had felt nothing for so long.

He stepped out onto the tarmac, beginning the walk across the lot to his car, which was parked across the street because it had been so full here when he arrived. It was dark, and getting darker, but he would have no problem finding it, he was sure, because it wasn't like there were a lot of people around now-

"Hey, kid."

Cody stopped, looking to his side. He would've jumped, like any normal person would, like he usually would at someone speaking to him out of nowhere, had the voice not been familiar. Even after all these years. Familiar like easing into your own bed after weeks and weeks of being away.

Plus, only one person would still call him 'kid'.

"Randy."

Randy stepped out of the shadows and into Cody's view, which was just typical of him, really. He stood there, just barely lit up by the half artificial, half natural lighting, and he looked as cool and as unreadable as ever.

"You didn't even jump." The corners of his mouth twitched. "I really did teach you well."

Cody paused. "I...the 'kid' gave it away."

Randy laughed. "What, nobody call you that anymore?"

Cody smiled despite himself. "It's not really applicable anymore."

"Why? You're not still a kid?"

"Well, n-"

"You are, Cody." A seriousness crept into his voice. "You are still a kid."

There was a beat of silence. Cody shuffled his bag awkwardly on his shoulder, just like a nervous kid. Just like Randy said. Randy had an annoying tendency to be right about things he said, especially when Cody was involved.

"So," Randy gestured towards the arena. "You went to the show."

"Uh, yeah."

Randy looked at him. "Why?"

"I guess...I wanted to see the show. One last time, y'know."

"Sentimental son of a bitch."

Randy was smiling at him, though, and again Cody felt his own face loosen up, even if it was in a somewhat embarrassed way.

"So," Cody said, and gestured around at the parking lot, mimicking Randy (he could do that in his sleep, probably, although it would never be perfect). "What are you doing here?"

Now it was Randy's turn to look sheepish, looking away, taking a few steps towards him. "I came to say goodbye," He said, then paused, and raised his voice a notch, imitating Cody, "I guess."

Ignoring the mockery (he wouldn't have expected less), Cody raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Randy's voice went back to normal. "Yes, really. I'm not going to leave it down to a couple of tweets and a note."

Cody opened his mouth to say something, to explain, probably, but Randy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug before he could and Cody fell silent. Because Randy Orton hugging someone was such a rare occurrence, you didn't speak during it. And because this was so much more than what Dolph Ziggler, who, by an educated guess, was probably more prone to hugging than Randy was, had given him. But then again, Dolph wasn't to Cody what Randy was to Cody. And vice versa.

He hugged him back, the smell of Randy's aftershave filling his nose. The parking lot wasn't particularly cold but Randy's arms were warm around him, and Cody was reminded how he was still that much slighter than Randy, just that bit smaller. Still a kid.

Randy's voice was muffled in his ear. "'M gonna miss you, kid. Cody." The correction was most definitely intentional.

Just then, Cody felt Dolph's pain. The sadness. Bitterness. Regret. Because they had so much potential. They all had. Maybe not like a star exploding somewhere in the galaxy, or a candle flickering out in an unfortunate wind, but like the smallest glint of passion in someone's eye. They had all had so much; Dolph, Damien, Wade, Him. Him and Randy.

The hug lasted a few moments longer than it really should have.

Cody could've sworn he felt Randy press a kiss to the top of his head.

Then finally Randy's arms loosened around him and Cody could step back. He looked up at Randy.

"Sentimental son of a bitch."

Randy made a face, but laughed. The bag creaked as it shifted on Cody's shoulder again.

Randy began to back off towards his car. "See ya around, kid," He called.

"Yeah. See you around," Cody answered, out of habit, then, deciding that his fresh start was now, and that he was done lying, corrected himself, "Probably not."

Randy hesitated. He looked at Cody, then to the arena, where he would probably be performing himself sooner or later, then back to Cody. He nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Probably not."

And then he disappeared back into the shadows, just like he had appeared. Exited as he entered. Typical Randy, again.

Cody stared into the shadows after him for a moment longer, which he was sure looked weird to Randy, if he was even still watching. Who knew what Randy did, really. He didn't anymore.

Cody looked away. He sniffed again, then hiked his bag up on his shoulder, and at last began his final trek across an abandoned parking lot to his waiting car.

Because now he truly had nothing left behind, waiting for him, back there.