"Phil?" Chris asked, a little bit louder this time. He hadn't meant to scare the raven, but he did. Phil flinched and sliced a two-inch cut across his knee. Almost immediately, it started to bleed heavily.

"Why the hell are you here? Didn't I tell you to leave?" Phil snapped back. He didn't even seem concerned about the fact that he had just cut his knee down to the bone.

"There's blood everywhere Phil! What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed yourself!" Chris exclaimed. At once, he was at Phil's side and trying to find something to put on the wound.

Phil saved him the trouble. He cleaned off the blade and slid his pants down so that the wounds weren't visible. "There are worse things."

"Do you really want to leave me that badly?" Chris asked as tears bubbled to his eyes.

Phil rolled his eyes and climbed off of the bed, a little shaky from the pain in his knee. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, the entire world doesn't revolve around Chris Irvine."

"Then tell me what caused this. Tell me who caused this." Chris insisted. The worry he felt leaked into his tone.

Phil narrowed his eyes at him. "It's none of your fucking business, Chris. Leave it alone."

"It is my business because you're my business. You're my life, Phil, whether you like it or not. I just want to be there for you when you need me." Chris said softly. The pain in his eyes told the entire story.

"Well, you're a little late for that, aren't you?" Phil hissed at him. This wasn't the same Phil that he had fallen in love with. This was a shell of a man. "I want you to leave. Now."

"Phil, if you won't accept my help, then I have to report it to Mr. McMahon. You know that he'll be forced to strip you of that title and send you to in-patient rehab." Chris told him.

Phil's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare. This title is all I have left. How dare you threaten to take it from me!"

"I'd have no other choice, Phil." Chris stated sadly. "It's either you or the belt, and I will always pick you."

Phil was silent for a few minutes. Chris could almost see the wheels slowly turn in Phil's head. It's either you or the title belt. It's either you or the title belt. And then, a dull, hazy quality settled over Phil's eyes. He walked over to Chris and tossed the belt over his shoulder. Now that the men were eye-to-eye, Chris could see that Phil's insomnia had kicked into overdrive lately. It was like his obsession with the WWE title had left him unable to think of anything else.

With his one hand, he raised the WWE title in the air. It was all that he had left. Slowly, he mouthed 'Best in the World'. It was a cold slap in the face to remind Chris of their feud and all of the horrible shit that the tawny blond had pulled on the Straight-Edge Savior. But little could have prepared him for what happened next. Phil drew his hand back and slapped Chris on the face, hard. Chris stumbled back a few steps, hurt and confused.

"Unlike you, Chris, I'll always pick the belt over you."


Chris found himself at a bar nearly an hour later with tears still pouring down his face and another shot glass of tequila polished off in front of him. Phil had declared them over once he chose the belt over him. And that hurt so much worse than the slap in the face he received.

He didn't want to have to follow through on his threat. He knew that he would have to, but he didn't want to. Phil didn't deserve to have his title taken from him, not after he had worked so hard to make it this far. But he couldn't have Phil continue to hurt himself, or worse...

No. He couldn't think about that. Phil may be having issues, but he would never take his own life. The Straight-Edge Savior had such a zest for life, even if he had a somewhat cynical outlook on it. Phil would never kill himself.

He ordered another shot of liquor. Once the glass was set in front of him, he hastily pounded it back and let the glass sit with the others gathered around him. Suddenly, he felt someone hug him from behind. He drunkenly turned around to find Shawn behind him.

"How did you know I was here?" Chris slurred. Shawn looked at him, confused.

"You called me like, twenty minutes ago," Shawn explained slowly. Chris allowed Shawn to lead him off of his barstool and towards the back of the bar to a booth. Chris collapsed onto the booth and let his sobs rip through him. He vaguely felt Shawn sit next to him and rub a hand along his back until he finally managed to stop crying.

"What happened?" Shawn asked quietly. Chris felt tears bubble in his eyes again. Now that the alcohol had slowly started to leave his system, he no longer felt numb to reality. "C'mon, Chris. You can tell me."

"He picked the belt," Chris' voice was hoarse when he answered Shawn. "He picked the belt over me. We-we're o-over."


The belt felt heavy on his waist, but Phil didn't care. He looked at himself in a floor-length mirror and smiled at his reflection. He had stripped all of his clothes off and now only wore the belt. He rubbed it slowly.

"See? I told you that nobody would ever take you away from me," he chuckled darkly. "Now that snot-faced Irvine is out of the way, I can give you my full, undivided attention."

The wound on his knee still bled pretty heavily. He felt really woozy, although decided to ignore it. He had cut himself deep before. It would stop bleeding eventually.