Disclaimer: not mine. just borrowing the chess pieces
Warning: M/M
Listen to me Breathe
He glances at the clock then at his phone, indecisively wonders what time it is in north America or if the person he thinks of calling is still awake.
He fiddles with the touch screen before deciding to throw all caution to the wind and scrolls down a long list of names before hitting one most familiar- seeing the name sends his heart thumping in a frenzy, realises he yearns to hear that voice he hasn't heard from in what seems to him like ages- the list goes on- wants to see blue eyes, wants to touch fair skin- bury his face into blonde hair- wants to feel that body pliant and warm beneath him- he blinks when the phone rings loudly in his ear, and he is suddenly filled with a sense of trepidation, and another list of what ifs unveils itself- what if he's already asleep? What if he doesn't answer? What if... What if he doesn't miss me at all? A heavy dread settles into his stomach as the phone continues ringing and his mind wanders to possible albeit worse case scenarios- what if he has someone else? What if he doesn't love me anymore? He's contemplating on the long distance relationship and the chances they have of actually pulling through when a groggy raspy voice greets him
"randy?" he can hear sheets moving
He finds himself lacking for words suddenly, he wants to say so many things, starting with an undying proclamation of love- and maybe how their days have been and how his has been utterly unbearable without his significant other- instead his throat goes dry and tight and he listens as the man on the other end of the line makes a sleepy noise
"randy? You okay?"
He makes a small noise that's uncanny for him and he hears Jay repeat his query
"are you- are you sick?" there's a pitched sound to that sentence and randy knows Jay will get on the first flight to wherever the WWE is parked and show up bedraggled and absolutely exhausted but still worried and anxious, fingernails chewed down as much as teeth can reach- and he will still be the most beautiful thing randy's eyes have laid on.
"no, I'm alright" he murmurs so quietly he can hardly hear himself. He hears a sigh of relief from the other end of the line
"are... Are you sure? I could book a flight-"
"no, it's alright, really Jay. I just..." I wanted to hear you. He closes his eyes- focuses on the soft breaths he hears, feels his own slow down to match the inhalations and exhalations- a soothing calming rhythm, it placates him- chases untoward thoughts as his mind settles into that serenity.
"I just wanted to call you" he says finally, allows himself a congratulatory smile for succeeding in keeping composure.
He can picture the small shy smile that he misses so much, he rubs at his chest where a clenching pain suddenly presents itself, wonders if he's truly coming down with something
"I miss you too" the admission is quiet but he can hear it, music to his ears, sends a warmth down his body and limbs and he feels elated, euphoric, on a high no drug can give- He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, suddenly feels vulnerable- but comfortably so as he listens to jay breathing. There is no one else who can make him feel this way- have his world turned upside down, make him loose all logic and reasonable control- break through the masks he dons, the high Walls he has meticulously built- no one can break through them with a single glance, a single smile, a single touch- no one can do so much to him with so little like Jay can.
The minutes tick on, and he knows he should say goodbye, he needs the sleep- they both do. But he has this feeling he won't be getting much of eight hours after this.
"randy?" drowsy and small, he sees Jay in his mind's eye, buried underneath thick blankets all by himself
He swallows, "I'm here."
"...good" hears Jay sigh softly and the shuffling of sheets - movements to a comfortable position. He mimics, finds himself staring at the ceiling.
They're listening to each other. Straining over the miles that keep them apart, their breaths and voices altered by the strength of the signals towers produce- and randy pictures Jay, the miles disappear and it's as though he's right there, on the bed, struggling against sleep, still holding on loosely to the phone while simultaneously unwilling to let his person go.
"don't hang up" Jay says softly, and his chest aches as he hears those words again
"I won't." he murmurs assuringly, places the phone on his chest- it's unbearably warm on his skin- he knows the batteries will die out during the night- but it would hurt less than bidding goodbye while they were awake.
"if I close my eyes, I can hear your heArt." Jay whispers- his voice is tinny over the phone and randy tries to hold on to the image of Jay near him- he can't though. There's no warmth or heat of a human body that can accompany the delusion and he feels the image slip away- tries to grasp it again- feels it escape through nooks and crevices of his brain and disappear from memory- feels cheated somehow and can't help feeling upset that he has to make do with such flimsy technology and illusions
"...randy?"
"yeah Jay?" he answers, holds the phone between his fingers and stares at the screen- the caller has a picture blown up to fit the touch screen and it glows eerily, randy brushes a thumb over the blonde hair on in his phone, it's insufficient- the image. A copy frozen in time- but he wants the real thing. He can't have it though. Not now. Not yet, his mind placated.
"can't sleep..." a pause... "can I listen to you sleep?" it's a small request- telephone bills will be rather high but that's the last thing on his mind right now- his heart Thuds in his chest in a joyous rhythm at that, loves Jay even more right now.
"Listen to me breathe" he murmurs instead, feels those worries, feels the disappointment disappear- because even if the delusion fades, reality asserts itself, and even with the faded imagery, his mind conjures up new ones anyway- ones he won't appreciate as much as the real person- imagination or cameras can never capture whatever Jay has that has caught randy orton. The reality that presents itself is suddenly sweeter and more rewarding than illusion.
"I'd like that..."
Time passes sluggishly between them until randy feels his own eyes drifting shut, the phone still in his hands, he feels it pulse, wonders momentarily if reality chose to weave itself with imagination- but he focuses on those soft breaths, and he doesn't feel as forsaken or as cold or as alone as he finally drifts to sleep- instead feels overwhelming love, seeping out of the small compact machine that connects him to his lifeline- cocoons himself with that love, and finally sets into dreams.