The minute I reached the bottom of the stairs in the hotel, I could hear it.
The familiar sound of Baron pounding a punching bag at rapid speed.
What else would you expect from a Golden Gloves champion?
When I rounded the corner I saw him, with his earbuds shoved in his ears. He was just mindlessly hitting that thing and never missing a single time. The sweat was pouring off him, his shirt was discarded on a bench.
"Hey!" I shouted, over both the music in his ears and the bag.
He kept on.
"Hey!"
I walked over and jerked the earbud out. He instinctively turned around with his hands up
"Hey! Hey it's me!" " I sighed.
He shook his head, dropping his hands to his sides.
"What the hell? I almost hit you!"
"I'm sorry, but you couldn't hear a damn thing I was saying."
"You ever think I don't want to?" he sighed, turning back to punching the bag "I know what you've got to say and I don't want to hear it."
"Too bad," I folded my arms "Cause you're going to hear it…"
"I talked to Shane yesterday all right? It's all cool. I won't interfere in any more Brand matches but Smackdown is still fair game," he interrupted me "So what I did tonight…Nothin' wrong with it."
"Daniel didn't think so," I shook my head.
"Daniel is a figure head," Baron glanced over at me, still never missing a single punch "Shane runs the damn show. You know that. Since you guys are so close and everything."
"I never said that."
He glared at me before turning back to the bag and hitting it even harder.
"Point is Daniel thinks he got even with me by sticking me in a match with Kane. Big fucking deal. I guarantee you he's the one who sent Kalisto out there…Now I got some piece of shit chair match with him at TLC. Are they serious? I'm going to fucking wreck him."
"Baron!" I squealed in aggravation "Can I talk?"
"Go ahead," he licked his lips, punches still flying.
"You are very lucky that Shane was so cool about it and you're also very lucky that Ambrose is stirring up so much shit right now because if he wasn't your punishment would have been a lot worse than a match with Kane and a chair in the face from Kalisto."
He scoffed.
"Baron, please don't fuck this up for yourself," I dropped onto the bench "I am begging you as your friend. This is to damn important."
He finally stopped hitting the bag and turned to me with his hands on his hips.
"I've told you a million times. I know what I'm doing."
Before I could say anything else, I sneezed. Three times in a row. I groaned and looked in my purse for my medicine.
"You got sick after Sunday didn't you?" he growled, sitting down next to me.
"It's just a cold," I shook my head, popping the medicine in my mouth and swallowing it "I'll be fine."
"Damn it," he groaned, as he tightened his hair on top of his head.
"I'm fine. I'm worried about you."
"Just stop, ok? I'm a grown man. I'm not a child. I got this. I don't need you walking around here, hovering like you're fucking mothering me ok? I can take care of myself!"
He stood up and went back to the bag, not even looking at me.
I felt tears start to burn in the corners of my eyes and I stood up slowly.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I was trying to hard to save him. Maybe I had depended on him for far to long and it was time to let go a little.
I headed for the door and I heard the punching stop again.
"You hate chocolate cake."
"What?" I turned back to him.
"You hate it but you made it for me anyway," he sighed, stilling the bag with his hand and walking toward me.
I drew in a shaky breath.
"You always write in pen because you're always right," he rolled his eyes "You hate coffee but you always buy one of those iced pieces of crap at Starbucks anyway. You're a terrible driver..I truly believe your body temperature is all fucked up because you're cold all the time. I think half of my sweatshirts are in your suitcases…And yes, I have that picture in my wallet. Because I like it. And you have the same one in yours."
"Because I like it," I finished for him.
"You were right, ok?" he held his hands up "I'm not a loner. I've got you. I'm glad that I have you but Y/N you've got to start letting me handle my own shit. Ok?"
"Yeah," I nodded, my fingers quickly trying to wipe the tears away.
"And I hate it when you fucking cry," he groaned.
His sweaty body felt comforting when he pulled me against him.
"Stop ok?" he whispered.
I nodded against his shoulder.
"Just go to bed," he sighed "I got this."
He stood still and watched me, until I was out of sight.
