Hotel beds aren't known for being all that comfortable, so one tends to fill their mind with other thoughts in order to ignore that.

Enzo's body felt heavy, aching and stinging in every other place, but his eyes felt like anything but, wide open, staring up at the generic white hotel ceiling. God, as if that was new. Cass had told him, many times, how amazed he was that Enzo could keep bouncing around with such endless energy even after grueling matches with opponents twice his size. He had also whined, many, many times, about Enzo tossing and turning next to him when he was trying to sleep. But honestly, that was just how Enzo was. That was just him, that was just...Enzo. And if you asked him, he had actually really improved, lately, especially with the whole sleeping thing since Cass had come around.

Cass. He was on the phone right now, talking excitedly down the line about their latest victory to Carmella, who was equally excited about it if the tiny snatches of her voice that Enzo could catch were right. Enzo missed Carmella. Of course, they still talked and texted and FaceTimed, and him and Cass flew out to see her as much as they could, and he knew she had Bayley and that she was okay, but still. Still. She was his friend, and he missed her.

Which brought him back to what had been on his brain, running along and crackling among his neurons or whatever it was scientists called brain-stuffs.

Because here was the thing:

As cool and as fun and as confident as he was, Enzo didn't have a lot of friends.

Alright?

He didn't have a lot of friends, and he never really had. It came with being who he was, Enzo supposed, came with having all his odd quirks and habits and a brain that ran at ten thousands miles per hour. Nothing he did ever seemed to fit with the norm; every idea he had, whether it was big or small, from the dreams he had of the future or just what he wanted to do with his hair next, he always got strange or disapproving looks. People even seemed to dislike the way he moved or the way he spoke and those were things he couldn't even help. And sure, it was those quirks which made him unique, made him stand out, and was what drew crowds to look at him, listen to him, pay attention to him and eventually cheer for him. But in everyday life, twenty-four hours a day, every day?

People couldn't handle him.

Cass and Carmella were some of the only people he had ever met (and this was including his Mom and Dad, and it was still barely a handful of people) who could handle him. Who didn't mind that his brain seemed to see things upside-down, inside-out, back-to-front sometimes, that he stood out from the crowd so much it was like he made people uncomfortable just by breathing. But, no, even that was halfway wrong, because sometimes even Carmella couldn't deal with him. Sometimes even she would get frustrated and storm off in a huff, take a break for a while (and honestly, he couldn't really blame her, and loved her even more for still loving him despite it). So, really, that just left Cass.

Cass.

Now, don't get him wrong: Enzo was proud of who he was. He wasn't ashamed to be different. He was confident - he never would have made it this far in life being who he was if he wasn't confident. But, as much as all that was true, and as much as he joked about having 'a coupl'a haters, a coupl'a haters', it still kind of hurt. It kind of hurt when people called him names, when they made fun of him, when they shot him glares or avoided him. And most of all, it hurt when he was alone. When you had a brain like his, it wasn't all that fun being alone. He got lonely. Which was why it was so great, so awesome, so amazing to have Cass. To have someone who stuck around, who entertained him and his weird thoughts from his weird brain, someone who even defended him. Enzo liked Cass. Enzo loved Cass. And he thought - he hoped, he prayed - Cass liked, maybe even loved him, too. He couldn't remembered what it was like to not have Cass around. No scratch that - he could remember. Loud and painfully clear, which was why he didn't know if he could deal with it if he didn't have Cass anymore.

But (wasn't there always a 'but'?)...well...the brand split was coming up.

And Enzo had heard the stories.

God, he had seen them unfold himself.

Teams, best friends, getting split up, put under different brands with different rosters and different tours that sent one halfway around the world from the other.

One floundering while the other went on to bigger and better things, usually.

The friendship crumbling, always.

Enzo had never claimed to be a genius, but he didn't have to be to see who he would be, and who Cass would be, in that situation.

And he knew, he knew he shouldn't worry. He knew. Because him and Cass, they were a great team, they were a team who were far better together than they ever were or could be on their own. And maybe, when they were on their own, Cass was that much better than Enzo, as became obvious when those Vaudevillains knocked a few of Enzo's screws loose, but surely, surely they were better together. Surely Enzo was worth...

Was Enzo worth anything?

If him and Cass were split, would their friendship survive? Enzo didn't know, because, in this industry, he knew it was every man for himself, and he knew there were probably (most definitely) so many better choices out there for Cass. He could do so much better than him. Enzo needed Cass far more than Cass needed him.

And if their friendship did end, if he did lose Cass, Enzo didn't know if he could handle being alone again, surrounded by people who probably (most definitely) hated him.

Enzo was sure he would love Cass forever, but Cass-

"'Zo?"

Enzo raised his head from the mattress, blinking. Cass stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at him, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, Cass?"

"You okay, 'Zo?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course I'm okay. Why'd you think any diff'rent?"

"You've been lyin' there starin' at this ceiling for a long time. Longer than I think I've ever seen you stay in one place, 'n fact."

"I'm okay, Cass. Jus' thinkin', 'at's all."

"Right." Cass was still frowning. He walked around to the head of the bed and sunk down onto it, sitting just behind where Enzo's head rested. After a moment's silence, he asked, "You sure you okay, 'Zo?"

"Uh," Enzo hesitated, just for the tiniest second, but it was enough for Cass.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"It's just..." Enzo chewed on his lip, thinking. He sat up, moving so he sat facing Cass, cross-legged. "Are we okay, Cass?"

Cass was going to give himself frown lines in the space of a night, at this rate. "What? 'Course we're okay, 'Zo, why wouldn't we be?"

"Well..." Enzo took a deep breath. It was unlike him to get so lost for words. "It's just...I mean, the brand split, it's comin' up, and-"

Realization dawned upon Cass's face. "Listen, 'Zo-"

"No, Cass, lemme finish. If we get split up, I...if we get split, I want us to still be friends. I gotta know that we're okay, Cass, that we'll still be t'gether no matter what. 'Cause, Cass, man..." Enzo rubbed the back of his head, looking at his lap. "I really like you, Cass. I love you, and I dunno what I'd do if I didn't have you anymore, man."

Cass's eyes were trained on Enzo's downcast face. "I don't know why you'd think- 'Zo, who's been puttin' these thoughts in your head, man?"

"Well...I mean, everyone's been talkin' 'bout it. Cole 'n' JBL won't shut up 'bout it, 'n' I heard The Club say somethin' 'bout how I-"

"Whoa, whoa. The Club?" Cass snorted. "'Zo, what the hell, man? Since when've you been listenin' to The Club?"

Cass clapped a hand over Enzo's mouth before he could respond, then moved both hands to his shoulders.

"Listen, 'Zo. Hey, listen," He squeezed Enzo's shoulders as the two of them locked eyes. "First of all, don't go listenin' to The Club. They don't know shit. I mean, if they end up getting split up 'n' all, Karl Anderson's gonna be wanderin' 'round like a lost puppy without A.J. Styles to cling on to." Enzo chuckled, and Cass smiled. "Secondly, we're not gettin' split up."

"But-"

"We're not. 'Kay? End of story. We're not gettin' split. Y'hear me, 'Zo?"

Enzo opened his mouth, then shut it, and nodded.

"Right. Good. An' finally," Cass moved his hands up again, cupping Enzo's jaw in one, running the other through Enzo's hair. "I love you, Enzo. And ain't nothing changing that. No brand split, nothing. I love you, Enzo Amore, and I ain't ever leaving you again. You're stuck with me now."

Enzo laughed again. "More like you're stuck with me," He mumbled.

"Stuck with each other, then. Wouldn't have it any other way. Would you?" He raised his brows at Enzo, who shook his head as much as he could. "Okay. So, you good, then? Feel better?"

Enzo nodded, and Cass grinned. "Good." He pulled Enzo towards him and into a tight hug, Enzo adjusting his own position so he could wrap his arms just as tightly around Cass. God, he forgot just how much bigger than him Cass was, sometimes.

"'Love you, 'Zo. Don't forget it." Cass murmured in his ear, still stroking Enzo's hair.

Enzo's heart still skipped a beat whenever he said 'love'. He smiled into Cass's neck. "'Love you too, Cass."

He took a deep breath, inhaling all the smells of Cass, from his shampoo to his soap to his deodorant to the smell that was just...Cass. So familiar and warm and comforting, so comforting that it made him wonder why he had ever been so worked up even just minutes before.

He shouldn't have worried.

Enzo never had to worry, not with Cass.

They were forever.