We do not own WWE Randy Cody Teddy, Punk, or anything sadly.. We don't own the song we own nothing.

THis chapter is based on the song Save me by Shinedown. And Jessica actually wrote something! (I'm so proud) That makes this one of the hardest things we've written so far. Please read and review!

How did I get here
And what went wrong
Couldn't handle forgiveness
Now I'm far beyond gone

Randy stood in the middle of the empty street, panting. As soon as he saw John with him he bolted, running as fast as his legs could carry him to get away from the cause of his crushing heartache. How could John have done this to him? Flaunting his new relationship with the younger man right in front of him. Randy reached up to wipe away the bold tears that fell down his cheeks, cursing the fact he'd been so weak as to let tears fall again. Lately, the only thing that kept the tears at bay was the alcohol. Usually after his third or fourth drink the overpowering pain he felt would be replaced with an empty numbing feeling. To Randy, it seemed like the only possible solution he had- the pain was just too much to bear. He wiped his hands over his eyes, stopping the tears that were threatening to fall, before they could start.

Randy stood there for a while, contemplating whether or not to call Cody and Ted to tell them he was alright, and to come take him back to the hotel. But as he reached for his phone, the sound of laughter stopped him. He looked up at the noise and noticed several people leaving a bar across the street. Before the plan even formed in his head, his legs were already steadily moving to the destination that would make him feel better- make him forget the ache in his chest.

** ** **

Someone save me if you will
And take away all these pills
And please just save me if you can
From the blasphemy in my wasteland

"Don't you think you've had enough?" the bartender asked Randy, a look of concern on his face.

"Don't you think you should mind your own business?" Randy retorted, venom seeping out of his voice.

The bartender poured another shot for him and left, leaving Randy to brood over his drink. He reached up to take a sip, but was interrupted by a vibrating coming from his pocket. Randy sighed, and pulled out his phone, deciding to look at who was calling before he hung up on them.

It was Cody...again; he had been calling Randy since around the time he started drinking, like he could just sense what was happening. But he didn't want to talk to him; Cody would just try and convince him that John wasn't important and that they should just try to ignore him.

But Cody didn't understand; he couldn't just pretend like he was fine. The thought of him having to plaster a fake smile on his face, while John was on the dance floor grinding with Evan, almost made him sick. He sighed from relief when the buzzing stopped, victoriously taking a sip from his drink. But before the bitter alcohol could touch his lips, the innsecessant vibrating started again.

"I'm fine Cody," Randy said after he finally answered the call, not even needing to look at the screen to know who it was. "You can stop calling; I'll just get a cab ride to the hotel."

"Randy?" Cody started, yelling over the noise of the club in the background. "I'm sorry, I can barely hear you, are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine," Randy said. "You can stop worrying."

"Well, thank god!" Cody shouted into the phone, causing Randy to wince. "Do you know how worried we've been? Ted's been beside himself! Oh, hang on Ted wants to say something to ya'." Cody handed the phone to Ted who, based on the loud thud that filled Randy's ears, dropped it.

"Randy?" Ted slurred sleepily. "Guess what?"

"What Teddy?" asked Randy smiling at the idea of a drunk Ted attempting to hold a conversation.

"I'm drunk!" yelled Ted snickering into the phone.

"I can tell, mind putting Cody back on buddy?" Randy asked before Ted got a chance to showcase his singing skills, like he always did when he was drunk.

"Hello?" Cody said, clearly frustrated at Ted's drunken stupor interrupting his conversation.

"Codes I'm gonna' go; you need to go take care of Ted, don't worry I'll leave soon." Randy lied, with no real intentions of keeping his word.

"No, way." Cody said in a serious tone. "I don't trust you to go on your own. Where are you? I can send someone to pick you up."

"Cody that's not necessary, just go ahead and take Teddy back, I'll be fine, I swear."

"Randy I'm sending you a ride and that's final, so tell me where you are."

Randy sighed in defeat and gave Cody directions to the bar, hoping they were accurate.

"Alright then, I'll get somebody to come take you back to the hotel. I really need to take care of Teddy, he keeps asking Jericho if he wants to have a threesome with us, and I'm pretty sure Chris is going to hurt him."

"Ok Cody," Randy laughed at the image, "bye."

Ten minutes and two shots later, no one had come to get Randy, and he was starting to get annoyed. While he would be fine drinking until the bar closed, the cash in his pocket was diminishing from all the alcohol and he definitely wouldn't be able to afford a cab back to the hotel.

"They could've at least told me who they sent to get me," Randy muttered to himself, taking a final sip of his drink.

"You know if there's anyone in need of a straight-edge intervention, I think it's you Randall."

"Fuck you." Randy said not in the mood for conversation with anyone. He looked up and saw none other than the straight-edge savior himself, CM Punk. "What are you doing here?" Randy asked confused, squinting his eyes to double-check it was indeed Punk.

"Cody asked me to come get you. Seeing as how I was the only one not drunk out of their fucking mind at the club, I was really the only option."

"Well I'm glad you care so much," Randy said, his voice full of sarcasm, "but I'll pass."

"Like you have any alternative," Punk laughed. "Come on, let's go. Or are you too drunk to stand straight?"

"Fuck. You." Randy repeated, getting up from his stool, to find, to his shock, he actually had difficulty.

"Thought so," Punk said linking his arm with Randy's to help him walk out.

"Yeah, I get it; Punk's always right. Especially when it comes to us addicts, right?" Randy said as they walked out of the bar and into the brisk night air.

"Yeah pretty much," Punk said cracking a smile. "I …uh… I heard about John. I may not like it, but I can't really blame you for turning to booze."

"Well I'm glad I get your approval," Randy said, thankful the alcohol prevented him from feeling the hurt that threatened to surface.

"Randy," Punk said looking into his normally clear blue eyes, that were now clouded by alcohol. "It doesn't have to be like this; you don't need it to forget him."

"Wha- how did you-?" Randy sputtered, wondering how Punk knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I've been there." Punk said cutting him off. "Maybe not with alcohol, but when Jeff left me, I seriously considered it."

"You did?" Randy asked confused, nothing would make Punk go against his straight-edge lifestyle.

"Yeah, but I got over it. It took a lot, but I got over him."

"How?" Randy questioned, those damn tears threatening to fall again.

"Come on, " Punk pulled him towards his car. "Let's get back to the hotel and I might just let you in on my secret."