"Just what the fuck was that, Neville?"

Neville spins on his heel and Tyler instinctively flinches from the force of it. He's seething, quite noticeably. He's either having an outburst or Paul really did something to piss him off to warrant this reaction.

"What was what?" Neville spits. "Sorry, are we familiar?"

"Don't be like this," Tyler says.

Adrian's carelessly shoving his belongings into a duffle bag and ignoring Tyler's existence. Tyler supposes he deserves it. After all, they're on the same brand and it was just by chance that he caught the backend of that altercation. They're not like that anymore, he tells himself. They barely even talk, in fact.

Tyler prefers to skip over the details these days, for his own sake. They'd panicked and Adrian had called things off once creative wanted different things for both of them. It was awkward after that and Tyler got the message and decided it'd be best, for him especially, if they moved on.

It was easier said than done.

"What's it to you what goes on in my life?" Adrian spits.

"Oh, I don't know, because I give a shit, Adrian?"

"You used to," he says acidly. "Don't call me that."

Tyler holds his tongue. "I just want to know what's going on with you. I barely see you. And before you blame me for that, no, it's not my fault."

He shoves away his bag and turns to Tyler, face twisted into a grimace. No soft gaze that Tyler remembers. "I'm leaving, Breeze."

"You're leaving," Tyler says stupidly. "What, the company? Why would you leave?"

"Look, if you must know, I kicked off because I'm sick to death of it here. They're giving this feud to Amore, Breeze. Just what good am I to this company if they job me to fucking Enzo Amore and lump me in the Cruiserweight division until it's time for me to throw in the towel?"

Tyler watches his shoulders deflate, tension leaving with his words.

"They're not moving you up?" He inquires. "That place was practically a buffer zone for you."

"They don't know what to do with me," Adrian admits, "and frankly, I don't want to be here anymore."

"Adrian-"

"I've told them I want out, and they've frozen my contract for the time being."

It's a slap in the face that stings, and Tyler has to take a few seconds to process it.

"So what's the plan, huh?" Tyler says bitterly, the lump in his throat breaking his speech. "You just leave and go wrestle somewhere else?"

Adrian shrugs, not meeting Tyler's eyes. "Door's open at Dragon Gate. Always knew I'd end up back there when this dream fucked me over."

"Japan," Tyler sighs.

"I'm a wrestler, Breeze. Not some hurdle for a poster boy who could care less about this sport to jump."

"Could you quit calling me that?" Breeze demands, patience gone.

"We're not anything anymore, in case you forgot. Not even co-workers, apparently."

"So that's it," Tyler says. "I just don't see you anymore."

"You'll get over it," he says. "Got more of a support system here than I ever did."

"Like hell I do," Tyler retorts. "Think my NXT house show losses put that into question, not that it matters to you." Neville says nothing, just looks back at him with maybe a shred of sympathy. "You're not the only one. You're an afterthought when you're not the top guy, but you get the fuck over it and make do."

"To be honest, I'm sick of compromising with these people," Adrian spits.

"So leave," Tyler says sternly.

"I am leaving."

"Maybe it's best if I don't see you around," Tyler says.

"Guess it would be."

It happens before Tyler gets a chance to process the movement: Adrian's hands gripping his hips and pressing him firmly against the wall, his mouth catching Tyler's with a kiss more violent than anything. Adrian bites at Tyler's lips and soothes the marks with his tongue like he's trying to get something across that he can't say with words.

Tyler can't think. How can he think when this is Adrian kissing him, grabbing at him like he used to when Tyler seemed like an addiction Adrian needed to feed? Like he was the only fucking person in the world and Adrian wanted every part of him.

Tyler pulls back sharply, startled by the sound of his own breathing. Adrian's face is far too close. The sharp contours of his face are hidden from view, and all Tyler can look at are those bastard green eyes of his.

"Just for old time's sake," Adrian says, then he's moving to pick up his bag, slinging it onto his shoulder.

Tyler's still processing what just happened. Adrian heading toward the door with his belongings is like a bucket of cold water being dumped over Tyler's head.

"See you on the other side, Breezey," is what Adrian Neville says over his shoulder.

And then he's gone.