Chapter: 4: In Between

Author's Note: Ahhhhh! The more of this I get finished writing and the more reviews I get, the more antsy/excited I get about posting the next chapter! Haha. Way to continually make me grin, guys. =) This one's for you. Enjoy. =)

It's the single worst match of Alex's entire life. You couldn't tell by looking at him, though, the way he and Mike work together fluidly, effortlessly, like they're on the same wavelength.

Though I guess that's to be expected when you're fucking soul mates. Alex thinks bitterly.

Inside, he's screaming. His fingers itch to grab Mike. His skin burns when they touch. Part of him wants to turn, run back to the dressing room, back to Justin's room in fucking Tampa and never look at Mike again. The other part wants to fall to his knees right here, beg the older to take him back, let him make up for whatever it was he did to upset him. He feels fucking pathetic. It's seems as if Mike has not gone unaffected, though. Once he really gets started, it's like he can't control himself. He strikes Cena with a vengeance, a certain darkness on his face Alex hasn't seen before. It frightens him, almost more than the deadly tone Mike has taken on tonight. Alex can hear the sheer rage in it, bubbling just below the surface. At certain points, it feels to the younger that Mike is taking out some kind of deep-seated anger on John. It makes Alex feel guilty for even being involved. Whatever issue Mike has, it's not with John Cena, but he has become the unfortunate victim. Alex sends him pitying glances whenever he can, hoping he conveys the message appropriately.

Suddenly, Mike's got the belt in his hand, and all of Alex's thought processes shut down. His eyes dart between his ex and the weapon, his mouth unknowingly dropping open the slightest bit in sheer want. It's not until he hears the leather crack against John's already marred skin that he's brought back to reality. He utters a quiet apology to Cena, and John gives him the slightest of nods. Alex knows he's delirious, but it's not like there's anything he can do. He hears the belt come down again, and closes his eyes against the sound.

But then, it's time. Alex pulls out the faux phone, plays the recording, and jumps back, excitement that's not even his dripping from him. He tries his damndest to touch Mike as little as possible, but when the older turns to him with that look, he can't stop himself. He almost tackles Mike, hugging him as close as possible. Once his hands are on his ex, it seems he can't stop touching him, even goes so far as to almost kiss him on national television, until Mike is pulling away, motioning for the ref to get the belt. Alex jumps around the ring like a wild man, trying to make it seem like his face it wet from excitement, and not the gut-wrenching pain that's coursing through him. When Mike hugs him again, tighter this time, and holding on, Alex has to block out everything to keep from grabbing the older and kissing him senseless, right here in front of everyone. He's not sure what either of them say to each other, but he's sure it's something superficial and idiotic and just not right. He pulls away first, unable to take the feeling of it any longer, unable to handle Mike being this close and not his. He hates that he imagines hurt on Mike's face as well.

Once Cena gives him the AA, he couldn't be more relieved all he has to do for the remainder of the match is lie there. He has to regain his composure before he can stand, which proves to be easier than he thought. By the time he gets backstage, he even has himself convinced that his face is wet from sweat, not tears.

"Hey, there you are. I told you you'd be alright. You did great!" Justin's voice floats in from behind him.

Alex turns to face the grinning high flyer, whose expression falls the moment he sets eyes on Alex's own face.

"Alex?" Justin questions, taking a few steps forward. "Are you okay?"

Alex knows he catches Justin off guard when he grabs the smaller, pulls him in close, but right now, he doesn't really fucking care. The promise of safety and a shoulder to cry on brings forth the rollercoaster of emotions he's felt over the course of the last hour again, all at once this time. He feels himself breaking down, right here in the back hallway of some arena, where anyone, Mike included, could walk up and just see him here. For some reason, he doesn't really fucking care about that, either, especially as Justin's arms come to wrap around him, the older's soft accent right in his ear with meaningless encouragements that make him feel better nontheless. For reasons unbeknownst to himself even, he's getting the feeling that as long as the high flyer is around, he might actually be able to make it through this.

XXXXX

Mike takes his time changing after the match, standing under the hot spray of the arena shower until his legs feel like they're going to give out under him. He's physically and emotionally drained. He's never had a match that intense. It was as if he'd seen Alex and become a different person. He figures, maybe he had. The longer the match had gone on, the more Mike had realized that all he could think about, all he could focus on, was the way the match would end, how he knew he wouldn't be getting back his oh-so-precious title that had been unfairly stripped from him, and that in the end, he wouldn't even have Alex there to comfort him. All because everyone wanted him to be like Super Cena. He'd become a man on fire, out for blood, and he didn't care whose. He's sure it would have terrified the old Mike, this complete loss of control on someone he honestly had no real personal problem with, someone he even called a friend. New Mike, ex -champion Mike, single Mike, is somehow unphazed.

The sadness, though. That gets him. Being around Morrison after their unceremonious split had never hurt this much. Then again, he'd never loved anyone the way he'd loved Alex Riley. Still loves Alex Riley, because if he's completely honest with himself, he knows he's never truly going to be over the younger. He lets out a bitter sigh, walking to the car with his head down. The entire drive back to the hotel, Mike has to make an actual effort to not have a panic attack. He's plagued by the look in Alex's eyes, the feel of the younger's hands on him one more time. By the time he gets back to the room, he's shaking, barely able to park the car correctly. He leaves his bags in the trunk, dragging his feet the entire way to his doorstep. He's not sure if he's ever been more ready to just pass the fuck out. When he opens the door, however, his mind changes.

"Hey there. What's shaking?" Chris jokes from where he sits in the oversized chair by the bed, smile spread across his face.

Mike feels his bottom lip quiver. The relief of seeing his friend overwhelms him. As his walls break down like levees, the tears begin to spill forth. He hits his knees, hugging himself tightly as his breathing hitches time and time again. He starts seeing spots before Chris is by his side, rubbing his back. He turns and grabs his friend, holding on for dear life as, for the first time since this whole, crazy, fucked up thing got started, he completely crumbles, and allows himself to cry.

XXXXX

Since Heath and Justin still aren't exactly speaking, the redhead goes on ahead to the next town with Wade while Justin opts to stay behind with Alex. They lay curled up together on the bed for hours, Justin listening to Alex spill his soul until the younger's voice runs hoarse from the talking and the tears. Eventually, Alex falls asleep almost mid-sentence, his head resting comfortably on Justin's chest. The high flyer lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He'd been worried since Alex had broken down at the arena that the younger wouldn't ever get to sleep, and knowing the scene that would be coming up the next night, Alex was going to need it. He looks down at Alex's dozing form, his hand never stilling on Alex's back.

Justin ponders the situation at hand, the fact that Alex is even here right now, unconscious in his bed, on his chest. It's perplexing, to say the least, the way Alex had gone from being someone Justin readily identified as one of his best friends, to barely speaking despite being on the same label, to lying here, curled around him, like nothing had happened. Not that Justin minds; he's beyond happy to have the younger back in his life. It's just caught him off-guard, thrown him out of his element to suddenly be someone's lifeline as they drift helplessly out to sea. He doesn't regret it, though. He meant what he'd said. Despite their lack of communication lately, he and Alex are still friends, and he'll do whatever he can to make sure the other is alright.

Suddenly, Alex shifts, subconsciously pulling Justin closer, his fingers squeezing the slightest bit into Justin's side. Justin squirms, ignoring the heat that spreads to his face and groin simultaneously. He runs the hand that's not rubbing Alex's back through his hair, stifling a groan. He wishes he could just turn that part of his brain off right now. The last thing Alex needs right now is Justin getting a hard-on every time he takes his shirt off. The high flyer shakes his head, trying to clear his head. He lets out a frustrated breath, trying to think about anything but Alex.

His mind drifts to Heath, and their argument from earlier. He hadn't meant to be so callous about things, but dammit, if Heath doesn't figure out he's jealous soon, the South African is going to kill him. Justin had spent the better part of the last year and a half biting his tongue and biding his time, trying to let his friend figure out his sexuality on his own, but the longer time goes on, the more Justin's beginning to realize just how oblivious the redhead really is. It's clear as glass to everyone that Heath is fixated on Justin, completely head over heels. That is, to everyone but Heath, who is still somehow convinced that he only swings one way. Thing is, if Heath would just understand his own feelings, Justin would be more than happy to reciprocate. But, as it is, things just keep getting more and more ridiculous. Still, the last thing he wants right now is for Heath to not be speaking to him. He reaches over and grabs his phone off the nightstand, unlocking it and shooting his friend a text.

Hey. Sorry for being an asshole earlier. You still up?

It's a few long moments, but then Justin's phone is buzzing in his hand.

Its ok. Was kind of being a bitch.

Happens to the best of us. You just need to chill. You're still my best friend.

U sure? U and Alex r getting awfully close.

Justin sighs, but his eyes trail down to his sleeping companion who continues to cling to him. Heath has no idea.

Of course I'm sure. I could never replace you.

Got that right. I'm one of a kind. ;)

You are definitely that. I should probably be getting back to sleep. Just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me.

Like I could ever stay mad u. I'll try 2 b nicer 2 Alex.

A smile forms on Justin's face. At least Heath's trying.

Thank you. That's all I ask. Good night, Heath. =)

Night Angel. Sweet dreams.

Only of you, he thinks as he sets the phone back on the night stand. He snuggles down deeper into the covers, trying to get as comfortable as he can. Just as he's about to nod off, Alex slides up a bit more to rest his head in the crook of Justin's neck, his arms winding around the high flyer that much more. Suddenly, there's lips lightly on his neck before Alex is nuzzling him softly. Justin takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Alex settles, his breath hot on Justin's collarbone.

Or maybe that was a lie...he thinks, slipping into sleep.