"I told you, no, Randy," Cody said. The two were working out at the hotel's gym before heading to the night's Raw taping.

"Why not?"

"I already told you."

"Well, I disagree with you."

"Remember when you told me about how John kept asking you out after we broke up?" Randy nodded. "And how annoying you said it was?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm not annoying. I'm smooth."

"Are you ever not full of yourself?" Cody asked.

Randy put his weights down and flexed his bicep hard in Cody's face. "What fun would that be?"

Cody rolled his eyes and continued with his reps. "Why don't you just hang out with John more?"

"Hello random."

"I'm just saying that as far as I know he's your only friend that isn't me," Cody paused, "Which is a really awkward life decision for you—and I told you if we keep hanging out we're just going to…" His voice trailed off as he saw Randy pour his bottle of water over his head and the water trickled down his sweaty body, "fall into old patterns."

Randy grunted unhappily. "As long as we don't fuck, it's fine. Right?"

"And you're telling me you don't want to fuck right now?" Cody stood from the bench and he too had a sweaty sheen.

"Don't tempt me."

"Exactly. You need different friends. I do too, frankly."

"John's just always busy. I haven't even talked to him since…" It dawned on Randy that he never told Cody about the almost-kiss that Punk walked in on. "Since Punk and I broke up. But, we're supposed to meet up at the arena tonight."

…

"Randy. You've been radio silent," John said just as Randy walked into his personal locker room. "What happened with Phil?"

Randy sighed and sat near John. "He broke it off."

"What?" John's voice was sincere. "Like for good?"

"So he says."

"I'm sorry… Stupid room service."

"What?" Randy asked, confused.

"If they didn't take so long the door wouldn't have been left open for Punk to come in."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so."

"That was weird though," John said slowly. "That there was something for him to walk in on."

"Can we not? It just happened. That's all."

John put his hands up as if in surrender. "Okay, sure."

"Thank you."

"But don't you find it strange that you're last two significant relationships both ended the same way? Because of me."

"John!"

"Fine… So what now?"

"Apparently I need to make new friends."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I think I'm offended."

Randy shrugged.

…

He tried to talk himself out of it. As Randy watched the monitor from backstage, he knew it was a bad idea. He knew that he shouldn't. But when the match ended, he couldn't stop himself. He watched Punk walking up the ramp and immediately headed towards guerilla. He was already stationed nearby so in a matter of seconds his eyes were on Punk's back. The older was drenched in sweat from his match and walking away from Randy. Randy sped up as casually as he could.

"Punk."

Phil rolled his eyes. He continued walking without missing a beat. He continued after Randy called his name a second and a third time. Each time his voice was closer. Punk turned and opened a door, praying to a God that he didn't believe in that it would be a locker room or something full of other Superstars. He walked into the mystery room and was immediately horrified that it was just an empty supply closet. When he turned around Randy was closing the door behind himself.

"I told you last time not to pull this shit again," Punk said.

"I remember. So go ahead, kick my ass. At least I'll know you care that much."

"That I hate you that much."

"That you feel that strongly; that passionate."

"Shut the fuck up, Randall! I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to look at you! I don't want to even be anywhere near you! How can I make myself any clearer?"

"By telling me you don't still care about me."

"I don't care about you."

"And meaning it."

"I…" Punk looked down at the ground.

"It's been three weeks and I'm still in love with you. Doesn't that tell you everything you need to know?"

"That tells me nothing."

"You're wrong."

"It tells me you're stubborn. Which we have in common because there is a little part of me that still cares, that believes you are telling the truth when you say you want to be better, that defies all logic, that ignores the rest of my brain that knows I can't trust you!"

"Love isn't about logic! It's a feeling. It's blind passion. And we have it," Randy stepped closer as he spoke. "And we had it good. You know we had it good. You know you miss me." His hands rested on either side of Punk's neck. His touch was soft. Punk looked up at him. He got lost in a pool of memory in Randy's eyes. "I miss you so much." Randy's thumbs massaged his skin. "Tell me. Tell me you've missed me too." Time froze. They just held eye contact.

"Randy…" Punk suddenly took a huge step back. "Stop! Fucking stop!" His voice was hoarse. "We can't go back! I can't! I can't be blind with you anymore!" His voice worsened with every word as he held back sobbing. "I've been blind this entire last year! Being blind got us here! Being blind led to you breaking me! You broke me! I am broken! And I can't be blind again! I can't trust you again! I can't!"

He stormed past Randy, slamming the door on his way out. Randy couldn't move. The words echoed in his ear. You broke me. Punk's face was etched in his mind's eye. He looked so hurt. He couldn't think of a way to make it right. He had nothing else to say. He's right.

After being perfectly still for minutes Randy opened the door to the closet and took a step out. He looked up and saw Bryan walking his way in his ring gear.

"Bryan!" He called out. "Come over here."

With confusion etched on his face, the smaller man obeyed. "Randy, what are you doing in there?"

Randy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him into the closet, slammed the door shut, pushed him against a wall and smashed his lips to his all in a matter of seconds. His lips were harsh; overpowering. He forced his tongue down the other's throat.

"What are you doing?" Bryan asked when Randy finally let up.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Now turn around, drop your trunks and bend over."

"I… Ugh… Wh…"

"Or are you going to tell me you don't want this?" Randy snapped.

Bryan didn't respond. He turned around. He pushed his trunks down his thighs. He arched his ass back.

Randy took off his own trunks, spat in his hand and coated his stiff dick with the saliva.

"This is gonna hurt."

AN: OMG. What do you all think? Was Punk right to still reject Randy? AND does John have a point? Let me

know what you think in the reviews!