Things are not going well. Dalton is sad, sick with worry for his Boys. He can barely sleep or eat, he misses them so much. He's pretty sure he'll never forgive himself for putting them in this position where they have to remain with Silas Young and abide by his commands, and the only respite they have is the cell phone they thankfully managed to hide. Knowing that they're hurting, physically and emotionally, leaves him aching and barely able to focus on things around him.
When he's backstage, he keeps to himself. A shadow of the rambuctious man he used to be. He hears the whispers, feels the stares, but it's all meaningless to him. None of the eyes on him come from his Boys, so they're irrelevant. He just wants to be left alone, try to brainstorm a better, faster way out of this awful situation, and try to reclaim his life. So, of course, when he's placed in a match with Cedric Alexander, he knows he has to move quickly. For one thing, because Beer City Bruiser or Silas could decide to come and make things even worse for him, or because of his own lack of concentration. He doesn't want to hurt himself, or anyone else, so best to finish the contest as quickly as he can. And he does- he's abrupt and brutal, and he feels kind of guilty about it later. It's not his usual style, he's a better competitor than that, but these are not normal times. So he lays into Cedric, snags him for a Bang-a-Rang, and it's over within minutes.
Dalton then collects himself and leaves the ring, barely able to look the crowd or Cedric in the eyes. He wonders where his Boys are, if they're backstage within walking distance of where he's standing right now. If they're missing him with the intense aching that he's been missing them. He finds himself in the bathroom, staring at himself in a slightly smudged mirror. His hair is limp, imperfect, his outfit is wrinkled, and he just plainly looks exhausted without the Tate twins to comfort and take care of him and vice versa.
He slumps down and buries his face in his knees so he doesn't have to look at himself. "My Boys," he mumbles. "I will repair this. I swear, one way or another, everything will work out. We'll be back together. Please just hang on... I promise..."
He's still sitting there, face buried within his hands, when the door opens and Dalton tenses, just to recognize the presence hovering near him, relaxing slightly. "We can't stay," Brandon tells him, and Dalton can figure that out just by how both he and Brent look when he looks up, antsy and tired. "You need to take care of yourself, Dalton. We can only do so much for you considering our scircumstances." He leans in and kisses Dalton quietly, feeling as emotion trembles through him.
"I... I know," he says, anxious and dizzy, almost unable to believe this is actually happening. He's missed them both so much that now that they're kneeling in front of him, he's not sure what to do. "I know. I'm trying. It's just so hard without you Boys..." He exhales. "Both of you are my entire world."
Brandon nods, eyes shiny with pain and understanding. "We feel the same way, but we continue doing what we're told so we're ready when the time comes. You should trust that we will be waiting for you as soon as this all ends. Ok?"
Dalton nods. "I do trust that. Of course I do." Brandon kisses him and Dalton smiles weakly, looking past him to his brother. "You have to go," he says, getting up with some effort and kissing Brent. "Go. I refuse to get you or Brandon in trouble."
Brent leans into him, relief in his eyes. He takes Dalton's hands and squeezes them. "Stop blaming yourself. We're doing ok."
He wants to argue, but there's no time for such silliness right now. So he nods. Kisses both Boys again and then sends them out of the bathroom, his resolve steeling as he looks at himself once more, finger combing his hair. I'll stay strong for you Boys, he thinks, a renewed determination crossing his face.