Crazy in Love
Title:
Crazy in Love
Rating: PG
Pairing: You'll see.
Summary: The most daring diva today is scared of one thing –
love. And she's going to make the biggest mistake of her life if
she doesn't watch herself.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I
don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, but.
Lyrics are "When It All Falls Apart" by the Veronicas (and were
taken from and are copyright to them.
Note:
Woohoo, another update! I tried to make this chapter a lot longer
than what I usually do (it probably isn't though)… so hopefully
you guys enjoy it! Please read and review, I love hearing your
feedback! Thanks to everybody who did last time! Much love goes out
to you!
xxx
When his phone rang the first time, he ignored it.
The second time it rang, he had to fight back everything inside of him not to jump up and answer it.
The third time? He knew he had to.
"Chris," Stacy began, a cynically amused expression crossing her pretty features, "Please tell me you're not going to interrupt this to answer your phone." She was lying on top of him, breathing heavily as she planted sweet kisses on his raw lips. He quickly glanced over to his right to the bedside table, where his cell phone was lit up and vibrating. It was tinkling out a Fozzy tune loudly. If he squinted, he could clearly read the name written on the screen… after doing so, he made out that that name was 'Trish Stratus'. His heart started beating wildly inside his chest like a drum – surely nothing bad had happened back at home while he and Stacy were on their honeymoon in Hawaii?
"Sorry Stace," He answered honestly, he truly was. She groaned loudly as she pulled herself off of him, wrapping the bed sheet around her naked body – whilst muttering angrily about how she couldn't 'believe this shit' and that he was interrupting sex for 'that stupid bitch' - as she got off the bed to go pull on some clothes. Chris yanked on his boxers quickly, before reaching over to answer his phone. Pressing the little green telephone button on it, he held it up to his ear and asked, "Trish?" Her worried voice filled his ear. "Chris, god… I'm glad I finally got a hold of you," He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" Trish's voice cracked for a moment, she let out a shuddering breath of air. "It's Lita." He immediately panicked. "Why, what happened?"
"Nothing happened to her. It's just that… well… Chris, she needs you."
"Trish…" "No!" The blonde diva cut him off desperately, she sounded close to tears. "Chris, I'm not kidding. She needs you." He spluttered wildly, "Trish, what are you on about?" She let out a small frustrated scream. "Chris! I'm not joking around with you! I've never seen her like this! Ever since she got home from your stupid wedding, she's locked herself away in her room. She won't come out, not even for RAW. I had to lie to Vince and tell her she's sick, that she can't make it." He didn't reply for a moment. This had to be serious, if Lita was skipping out on work, on wrestling. Wrestling was her dream, her life… if she was missing it, and then something really serious had to be happening back there. Trish's voice interrupted his thoughts; it was more quiet and tinier than ever. "I hear her at night, Jericho. She cries herself to sleep." Again, he fell silent. "Just… come back whenever you can, okay?" The phone went dead. He clicked red telephone button and placed his phone wordlessly back down on the bedside table.
He looked around the room and saw Stacy completely dressed again. She was attempting to put on a pair of heels while walking towards the hotel room door. When she looked up, after finally slipping her shoes on, she glared furiously at him. "I'm going out," she snapped angrily, whipping open the door and storming out like a hurricane. It banged loudly behind her, but he found he didn't care right now. Flopping back down onto the bed on his back, he stared absent-mindedly at the white ceiling as he thought. So what if his new wife was angry at him? Who really cared? All he really cared about right now was his best friend, that being Lita. The girl was back there in her home torturing herself because… she loved him. He supposed he would just have to listen to Edge and Christian and agree that the fiery redhead was completely in love with him. She was back there at home, having the days from hell, skipping out on what she loved to do, while he was here in Hawaii. She had always been there for him like he had her, right? But what had changed now? Why wasn't he there for her right now, while she was beating herself up, crying herself to sleep, pouring crimson regret and screaming for someone who loved her back?
'Because I'm an idiot.' He realized. He rolled over and groped around for his phone again. As he dialed in a number, all he knew right now was that he needed to call the airport and book the earliest flight for tomorrow morning back home.
xxx
So here he was.
Standing outside Lita and Trish's house.
Stacy had been angry when he had informed her they were leaving in the morning, screaming, yelling and crying at him. She hadn't particularly liked the fact that they were leaving, and had disliked it even more when he had stated they were leaving because of Lita. In other words, she had thrown a tantrum of sorts, saying – "Get over that bitch! I don't care if she's in love with you, we're supposed to be here having fun and enjoying ourselves because we just got married, remember?" She was adamant that she was not moving a single inch. He hadn't listened to her however, and had left anyway. She had stayed behind. He supposed that that probably wasn't the best start off to a marriage, but he had to do this. This was something he had to do for himself, for Trish, and most of all, for his best friend… Lita. Stacy just couldn't grasp that knowledge.
Trish had texted him earlier (once he had informed her he was on his way) saying 'Look under the doormat'. He hadn't quite understood this, but once he had actually done it, it had become painfully obvious what Trish had meant by her message. There was a small silver key under there that obviously was for the front door. He picked it up carefully, examining it. It looked in good condition. He slid it gently into the door, twisted it and heard a lock click confirming the door to be open. Opening it, he entered the house to total and complete darkness. Ignoring the lack of light, he made his way through the house – he knew the way to her room with his eyes closed and probably could've managed it, he surmised – to where Lita's room was. He rapped on the door lightly with his knuckles, calling out her name. "Lita?" He heard a muffled sob coming from inside the locked room, then a "Chris?" He nodded to himself, and then realized Lita couldn't see him. He leaned against the door, back against the cool surface. "Yeah, it's me," he responded softly, running a hand through his mussed blonde locks. "Why are you here?" She asked. She sounded like she had moved from her position on the bed and that she was against the door too, listening to every word he spoke, drinking them all in to store in her memory bank. "Because of you, silly," He heard her mouthing under her breath, "Because of me… yeah right." Her voice rose slightly. "Or because Trish told you to?" He froze. "Trish suggested that I come, but I came because I care about you." Back in her room, Lita was in a ball on the ground, back against the door. She had tears in her red-rimmed eyes, her hair hadn't been brushed in days and she was still wearing the same clothes she had changed into the moment she had gotten back from the wedding. She bit her lip, thinking of something to say in response to that. She thought of something but didn't know if she should say it. Shaking her head, she plucked up the courage, and said it anyway.
"The only problem is you don't care about me the way I want you to."
He didn't particularly know what to say in response to that.
"I've tried to stop myself from falling harder for you; I've tried to tell myself that I can't be in love with you. But what the mind and heart think and do are two completely different things..." She rubbed her eyes, trying to stop the tears but found she could not stop them altogether and just let them fall, crying her eyes out, while he sat and thought on the other side of her door. He sighed, scrunching his face up in confusion, "Lita… I… I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't mean for any of this to happen." This was not a subject she felt like discussing, especially with him. "Chris, I think you should go." She cut him off mid-sentence. He didn't know what else to say to her, what he could say to her. "Right," he agreed, standing up and brushing off his pants. He felt along the wall for a light-switch and found it, the darkness was so depressing. Quietly, he began tiptoeing out of the house. As he made his way past the lounge room, he noticed a small notebook on the table he hadn't seen there the last time he had visited. He wrung his hands, knowing he was going to regret this in the morning. He flicked it open and began reading the first page, which was wrinkled in places because of something that looked like water falling on it.
The writing was in Lita's handwriting. He smiled wanly, she loved to write.
Don't know where I parked my car
Don't know who my real friends are
Anymore
I put my faith in you
What a stupid thing to do
When it rains it pours
And not to mention
I drank too much
I'm feelin' hung-over
Out of touch
I need intervention
Attention to stop this temptation to scream
His stomach plummeting, he flicked to the next page, which was lined with more words, more heart-wrenching words that he somehow knew were direction towards him. Her handwriting got more wobbly and illegible; he had to squint to read what his friend had written on the small page.
Everything is f'ed up straight from the heart
Tell me, what do you do when it all falls apart
Gotta pick myself up, where do I start
'Cause I can't turn to you when it all falls apart
Feeling more depressed than ever, he closed the notebook, placing it back down on the table where it had been. Winding his way around chairs and couches, he found his way out of the house and locked the door behind him. He returned the key Trish had thankfully leant him back to its original place under the doormat, and then found himself sitting down on it, hands clasped together. His forehead was leaning against his hands; it almost looked like he was praying. Deep down, he was. He was praying for his best friend to forgive him, praying for her happiness and smile again. An image of the redhead appeared in his mind, a time at the beginning of last year – that being 2004 - when they had gone out with some of the other superstars – Trish, Victoria, Christian, Edge, Randy and Stacy. They had ended up at a club, dancing on the floor together. He remembered her smiling, laughing face (wishing that she would return to that) as she wrapped her arms around his neck and danced. He had laughed along with her, drawing her head towards his and kissing her on the head. That thought brought back old memories, old feelings too. After he had kissed her forehead in a friendly way, she had gotten an odd look on her face. He shook his head, thinking to himself.
'Don't look at me like that; I don't feel like falling for you all over again, I can't afford the heartbreak.'
Truthfully, he had loved her once. Way back when, after when she was with Christian, he with Trish. It was funny how the roles had reversed.
Truthfully, he didn't want to go through all that hurt again.
