Not much to say to this one except I hope you'll like this one (better than the last part ;-)
Oh, and it will get better for the boys, promise :3
Ten points to BrightAsNight and LegacyChick for guessing right ;D and for all those who think: Sheamus/Punk? Really?! Now, it's not that bad, you should give it a shot ;D
The first thing I noticed when I woke up after a not very restful sleep was a presence at my side. The fact that I still held the small box in my hand made it pretty clear that it hadn't been a bad dream. Opening my eyes my gaze fell on an unfamiliar wall in an unfamiliar room and for a second I had to close my eyes again because it still was there… the numbness and the unbearable pain underneath. There was a hand on my shoulder and when I turned onto my back it slipped off, falling to the mattress with a soft thud. The surprise wasn't who was sitting there beside me, rather that he was sitting there. Woken by my movement he blinked himself awake, yawning heartily, before looking down on me with a soft smile I had rarely seen on Phil's face. I tried a smile of my own but failed miserably.
"Morning," he said quietly, settling his hand back on my shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. "How are you feeling?"
While closing my fingers tightly around the small box, I pushed myself into a sitting position and exhaled audibly, trying to breathe the pressure on my chest away which lingered there since yesterday.
"Like shit," I muttered and frowned at him. "Why are you sitting in bed with me?"
My question wiped the smile right from his face and he sighed.
"I heard you… calling for John in your sleep and came here to wake you, but you wouldn't wake up," he explained slowly. "But you calmed down when I touched you and talked to you, so…"
The compassion shining in his eyes was so unexpected and overwhelming that I had to look away because although I knew he meant good, it only made everything more painful at the moment.
"Randy?"
Taking a deep breath I looked back up to him and this time I managed a smile, even though it was wavering, but I owed him one. This man let me stay here, had even spent the night sitting beside me because I…
"Thanks, Phil, for everything" I replied as shaky as my smile was. And because I couldn't expect to stay at his place for until my life was back in order I added: "I, uhm… I'll look for a hotel room and…"
He shook his head no immediately and I was grateful for it.
"You shouldn't be alone." He hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lip-ring, before asking hushed: "Randy… Stephen didn't say a word about it and you don't need to tell me if you don't want but… what happened? I mean, you and John, to me you were the perfect couple. I really thought there is nothing that could… you know, destroy that."
Pondering if I should tell him or not I gazed at him and between all the turmoil there was a small voice telling me that I could trust him. There had been times when I was glad if this man wasn't in the same room with me but somewhere along the last months my opinion about him had changed and now… this was probably a side of him only a handful of people knew.
"I screwed up," I said then, the guilt in it so heavy that I saw him clench his jaw. "First I freaked because I was afraid that people could find out about us, that I could lose Ally and I broke up with him and then I… huh, I drank and slept with my ex-wife."
His eyes widened almost comically as he listened to me. He opened his mouth, snapped it shut, narrowed his eyes then and it wasn't really a glare, more disbelief.
Then: "Wow."
His tone was dry, as if he couldn't believe it.
"I can't even remember sleeping with her. I have a black-out but the next morning there was the hickey and…" I trailed off, sighing defeated. "Fuck, I didn't want that, I… I love him… I love him…"
Moving closer, he gingerly wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. But just as the day before when Stephen tried to comfort me… it didn't work. John's touch had ruined me for anyone else on this whole bloody world. Forever…
"Maybe… maybe it wasn't your fault? Maybe she took advantage of the situation?" he murmured.
I laughed bitterly at this. Fuck, I wished he was right. God knew how much I wished it…
"Yeah, maybe. But then it is still my fault that I broke up with him for nothing and that I stayed at her place at all, not to mention the drinking enough to lose control," I muttered while unfurling my fingers, revealing the box which had left imprints in my palm from holding on to it too tight. "I don't know if he can forgive me. I don't think I could forgive me if I was him."
I snapped the box open and took the ring out for the first time, running a finger over its soft surface. It was beautiful. It was fucking perfect and I wished nothing more than to wear it after he'd asked me.
"I ruined the best thing in my life…"
My voice was barely a whisper. A single tear rolled down my cheek and I wiped it away with a trembling hand and flinched slightly as Phil took hold of it to soothe the trembling away.
There was an insistent, almost urging note lying in his words as he replied: "You have to fight, Randy. Give him some time and then fight for him. Yeah, maybe you made a big mistake but John loves you and we both know he's not the unforgiving type. It's not hopeless."
After running my finger over the ring one more time I put it back into its box. I had no idea how I should survive this day because I would see John at the company and on top of it all we were scheduled for a match against each other. For a brief moment it crossed my mind to call in sick, but maybe I would get a chance to talk to John again after the match.
I heard Phil ask me if I was up for breakfast but I was far from being hungry and when I shook my head no, he got up from the bed, pulling me with him. Not even twenty minutes and a hot shower later I sat at the kitchen table, a coffee and a bagel right in front of me and a persistent Phil beside me, telling me he wouldn't let me go anywhere without at least that in my stomach. I forced it down then, having a hard time to keep it there.
The time between the breakfast and the moment I stepped into my locker room went by in a blur. I changed into my ring-gear, lost in my thoughts which were revolving around the question how to get through the match, how to get John talking with me… or at least listening to me, although I had no idea what I could say that would change his mind. But Phil was right, I had to fight for him. But waiting? I couldn't risk someone else stepping into his life.
I hadn't seen him on my way to my locker and now, waiting for my music to hit there was also no sign of him. I went out then, like always making my way down to the ramp as usually, slowly, assessing and in the ring I pulled my Adonis-pose. But under the surface there was a current of nervousness, panic, fear and uncertainty ripping through me.
And then John came out. A perfect entrance, all John Cena as the people knew him. He didn't look at me and fuck, it stung. He was ignoring me. Or so I thought. It was in his eyes, the very moment before the match started. Deepest disappointment and the hurt expression. They were still there…
He gave the audience a perfect show and I did my best to keep up with him, but I just couldn't focus. To feel him against me… to feel him under my touch… to hear him breathe heavily… And then we were outside the ring and it happened before my distracted mind could react. He grabbed me by an arm and flung me towards a ring corner and my shoulder collided hard with the ring post and when I realized what was happening it was already too late to brace against the impact. My shoulder exploded in pain. Faintly I heard the crowd cheer and the referee count. Suddenly John was at my side, hissing at me to get up but I couldn't and with a muttered fuck he pulled me up, rolling me into the ring. And he pinned me. I noticed the confused expression on the referees face because I had been scheduled to be the winner and it caused him to hesitate a second, before jumping into action.
John's weight on me vanished. From the corner of my eye I saw him gaze at me with an unreadable expression. It was the last thing I saw from him, because I rolled out of the ring, holding my shoulder which was still on fire and made my way to the backstage like a beaten dog.
Ten minutes later I sat in my locker room, leaning against the wall with my head bowed. The pain in my shoulder had become a dull and persistent pounding. I was glad though that it hadn't been John who got hurt. More than he already was…
I wondered how long it would take until Vince would come to kick my ass and I also wondered where John was in this moment. Tilting my head back against the wall I took a shuddering breath. All those years, even before we became an item, he'd always been waiting for me in my locker after I got hurt in a match, soothing the pain away. But now he wasn't. And it felt so goddamn wrong.
A small part of me wondered if it would be like this from now on, if I would hurt like this, feel numb and alone and hollow for the rest of my life. Probably. I doubted that someone else could ever fill the void that losing John had left in my heart and my life. But it wouldn't happen anyway since I didn't want anyone else but him at my side.
The door to my locker jumped open and I guessed that it was one of the trainers, coming to look after me for the third time within the last ten minutes and so I said as convincing as even possible: "I'm fine."
With a quiet click the door closed again.
"You've never been a good liar."
My eyes snapped open and my head around. John was standing there, still clad in his ring-gear. He was looking me over, the unreadable expression still plastered to his face, his usually warm eyes cold. Holding my breath I got up, taking a step towards him. Stopping when I saw him tense.
"John…"
His name was a mere breath on my lips, a plea, hoping it would get through to his heart. It didn't though.
"How's the shoulder?" he asked quietly, reserved, indifferent even, as if this was only an annoying part of his job.
Summoning all my willpower not to look away from his cold eyes I muttered: "It hurts but it's only a bruise."
John nodded, all business like.
"Okay. Good. I told Vince it was an accident, so he won't kick your ass," he replied, already turning to leave.
"John…" I began but he held a hand up and I could see his jaw muscles jump as he gritted his teeth.
"Look, Randy, I know the situation is…" He stopped mid-sentence, taking a collecting breath and for a brief moment I saw his unreadable mask waver. "I know it's not easy for you. And believe me, it isn't easy for me. But you acted unprofessional out there. You know you have to be focused out there, no matter what. This could have ended much worse. Either you pull yourself together and get the job done or you need to talk to Vince and take some time off until you…"
I flinched as his words hit me and in a desperate attempt to stop this and… and… I don't know what I thought that very second, but I walked up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and with a gentle push I pinned him against the door.
I kissed him.
It was a desperate kiss, stopping his hurting words, swallowing his surprised gasp. My hands came up to hold his head in place as I kept my lips sealed over his as he shook the surprise off and he brought his hands between us to push me away. My nostrils flared as I took in that fucking sexy scent that always threatened to make me headless… the faint smell of John's shower gel and his after shave, mingled into fresh sweat and pure and unique John. It made my cock stir… I deepened the kiss and he pushed harder to get me off. But I held on to him, molding our bodies together while one of my hands dropped to his waist, trailing to the small of his back and down to his perfect ass to pull him into me. There was a small moan escaping his throat and fuck… his hard dick was poking into my thigh.
I broke the kiss long enough to breathe his name and he used the chance, turning his face away from me.
"Let go," he muttered and this time he pushed hard enough to send me three steps backwards.
No… I thought and wanted to step back up to him again, afraid that if he walked out of here without giving me a last chance, that it was over.
"Don't," he growled and it made me freeze. "Don't, Randy."
The lingering numbness fell off of me, the pain underneath blazing and it knocked the breath out of me.
So all I got out was a croaked: "But I love you, Johnny."
Wiping his hands down his face he laughed mirthlessly and that laughter dropped to a sighed yeah. With that he opened the door and… left, without another glance back at me. Just like that.
My knees buckled and I dropped to the floor, rocking back and forth. Weeping without tears. Minute after minute until the door opened again but it wasn't John. It was Phil, kneeling down beside me. Holding me. He was holding me. Into my crying mixed a defeated laughter and… he still kept holding me. Murmuring soothing words. Minute… after minute.
Eventually I got a grip on my self-control and calmed down enough to make him believe it was okay for the moment. It wasn't though. I felt like dying. He told me to get showered, that he would wait for me at the car. I nodded. What else should have I done?
He left and I did how he had told me, taking my shower, getting dressed… and then my eyes fell on the small black box in my locker.
He wanted to propose to yer tha weekend…
Even if it shouldn't have been possible, the pain became worse and I wished the numbness to come back to me. I wouldn't be able to stand this much longer…
I reached out, my fingers curling around the small item. The hopeless part of me took over. And then I left the room and the building, avoiding the parking lot. I felt guilty for leaving Phil behind like this, but I needed to get out, needed to get away. My feet carried me along the streets while my mind was fixed on the box in my hand. Faintly I noticed people bumping into me as they passed me, the traffic noise and the cool air which was making me shiver lightly. They carried me right into a pub where I sat down at the bar, ordering a beer. Alcohol free. Because fuck if I would touch a drop of alcohol again.
Placing the black box in front of me on the bar I opened it. A perfect piece of jewelry. There was a soft sound as I took the ring out of the pad it was sticking in. I slipped it loosely over my index finger, slowly turning the ring around my finger, running the pad of my thumb over its surface. It was rough in a soft way and smooth.
While staring at it I wondered how he would have asked me. I was sure he had planned something nice. Maybe an evening at my favorite Italian? That would have been so very John-like, to chose a place I loved.
With the man I loved…
My hand sank down onto the bar while I hid my face in my free hand, trying to suppress a sob.
It happened in a split-second. There was a tug at my finger and with it the ring… was gone. My eyes snapped back to my finger, finding it empty and I looked around, panicked. And I froze as my gaze fell on a man beside me, holding my ring between his fingers. A white rage exploded in my chest, rolling through me and I slipped from my barstool, reaching out quickly to snatch it from his hand. But he was quicker, holding it out of my reach.
"A fine piece," he grinned, slightly waving with it.
My voice dropped to a threatening growl as I said: "Give. It. Back."
His grin widened.
"Make me, fucker."
x
I pulled my car into the driveway right beside Stephen's and wondered why it was standing there, since I thought he had an appointment today. I shut it off, listening to the dying motor while I kept my hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the door of my garage. I tried to breathe deeply to calm down. Still. Ever since Randy had kissed me. He'd caught me off-guard with that kiss, leaving my traitorous body to betray me with a raging hard-on.
My body knew him, knew his touch, his scent, his kiss. It had been the fucking reason why I had been so reserved towards him as I went there to ask him about his shoulder. After spending the night with tossing and turning, again and again thinking about him, I had been goddamn torn between giving him a last chance and holding on to my decision that it was over. And when I saw him in the ring I was sure that it was too soon to risk that last chance but when he kissed me my heart cried yes and I…
Fuck, I was so confused…
When I had opened my eyes this morning Stephen was still there beside me and although knowing that I wasn't alone felt good, I felt wrong at the same time. That place had been Randy's. Still was. Yet…
Stephen kept urging me to think about it, give Randy that last chance. Telling me over and over again that Randy loved me. I knew that he loved me, but that wasn't the point. How could I be sure that it wouldn't happen again? What if he drank too much again and ended up with someone else? Again. It hadn't been the first time he shot himself out of this world and it wouldn't be the last time. He just couldn't leave it be. I had asked him already more than once.
The morning had been a disaster, because the whole time Stephen had tried to cheer me up a little, to get me talking. With him. About anything I wanted. Maybe even about Phil if it helped.
And about Randy.
But I wasn't up to speaking. All I wanted was to hide because I had no fucking words for how much it hurt. And then the match. I couldn't recall that I've ever before been so afraid of a match. Just hold on to being professional, that was what I had told me to get the job done. And somehow I managed to pull through but then… when Randy hurt his shoulder, I…
Leaning forward I sighed, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. I could still feel Randy's lips on mine. The kiss had been so… desperate…
A knock at the driver's door almost made me jump out of my skin and when I looked over, I found Stephen there. Right, Stephen's car, the appointment… With a weary smile stretching my lips I got out of the car.
"Hey big man," I greeted him, giving him a quick hug. "Glad you're here. But didn't you have an appointment today?"
It was now that I noticed how serious his expression was, almost like something severe had happened. A bad feeling coiled up in my guts immediately and I voice the first thought that came to my mind.
"Did something happen to Randy?"
The briefest of smiles flashed over his face, probably because I worried about Randy. But the serious expression was back in a blink and he… nodded. My heart sunk.
"In a way, yeah." he replied thoughtfully. "Not what yer are thinking, don't worry but… Uhm, yer know, the appointment I had today… ah, fuck. I went to Sam to talk to her."
My worry was wiped away in a blink, replaced by something that couldn't be named angriness, but it was close to it.
"Sam…" I hissed and my snappish tone wasn't really directed at him, rather at that brazen woman.
There was a tiny nod from him.
"Let's go in, John," he replied, already turning to walk back into the house. "I brought her here to tell yer what she told me. And yer really need to listen to her."
Sam was here. She was in my house. I wanted to yell at him for bringing her here and I wanted that bitch to leave and never step into my life again! But instead my mouth was suddenly so damn dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my feet moved on their own, while my mind came up with a hundred scenarios what she had to say. I followed him into the house and my heart began to pound hard. By the very moment I stepped into the living-room and my eyes caught her, my heart was hammering in my chest. I sat down heavily on the couch and suddenly I was afraid of what she had to tell me. I didn't want to hear again that the man I loved betrayed me. Yet I couldn't get up to flee and it made me feel like a deer caught in the headlight.
She sat on the armchair, somewhat hunched and one of her hands was clenched, holding a tissue while the other stuck in a splint, resting on the armrest. She looked up to me with pure guilt plastered to her face and god, I hoped that guilt would haunt her forever.
Stephen sat down beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Averting my eyes I looked for something to stare at, something familiar to hold on to and my gaze found our family portrait. To see it hurt but at the same time it gave me strength. I heard her clear her throat and I tensed automatically, bracing for what was about to come.
Stephen seemed to have noticed it because he patted my knee, murmuring: "Calm down, John. No need to freak, okay?"
"Funny, Farrelly. My life just went down the sink and I feel like I can't go on. I…" I replied as tense as I felt, stopping because I didn't want her to hear all that.
But why did I tell him? He knew all that already. Sam though flinched. Hard. And I gave me at least a bit of satisfaction. The hand on my knee stayed.
"What is it you have to tell me, Sam?" I asked then clipped, wanting nothing more than to see her walk through the door and out of my life.
I kept my eyes glued to the picture and inched closer to Stephen for reassurance and he hummed just loud enough for me to hear. Sam shifted on the armchair, her expression becoming almost scared.
"I, uhm… Stephen told me what happened," she began quietly.
Huffing I shook my head lightly.
"Yeah, well, I hope it is what you wanted, Sam."
My tone was bitter and from the corner of my eyes I saw Stephen look at me… reproachfully?
She got up from her place, taking a step towards me but when I snapped my head around to her, sending her a scorching glare, she froze for a brief moment before turning away and with a sigh she walked over to the window.
"I didn't want that, John," she said and the guilt I had seen on her face coated her words. "When he came to me he was so… sad. And then he began to drink…"
Sam bowed her head a bit, again sighing. An image popped up in my mind, showing me Sam sitting beside Randy, waiting that he would be drunk enough to… Rage began to boil in my guts.
"And you didn't stop him. But hey, maybe it was what you wanted, huh? Have him drunk enough to get a piece of him?" I snapped, frankly pissed.
My tone was harsh, maybe because I began to feel guilty for some unknown reason. Stephen pulled his hand back and bracing his elbows on his knees, he leaned a bit forward, trying to lock gazes with me but I swept my eyes back to the picture. He said my name then hushed and chiding.
"What, Stephen? What?! Randy belonged to me and she knew that!"
Suddenly she whirled around, the guilt replaced by a glare, almost yelling as she spoke again: "And what have you done, John? You took my husband away from me!"
The rage within me reared its head and I jumped up from the couch, about to close the distance between us and… but Stephens's hand shot up, grabbing my wrist in a vice-grip to hold me back.
"John," he murmured and tugged at my arm, urging me to sit back down. "Will yer calm down finally and please, sit down."
My heart was beating so fucking fast by now that I began to feel dizzy and my breathing was more of a panting. I couldn't really imagine the way I looked to her but obviously it mirrored the rage I felt, because the glare was wiped from her face. She took a step backwards, bumping into the windowsill. The guilt was back and maybe my outburst had scared her. I hoped it. There was another tug at my arm and I followed, sitting back down.
"I didn't take him away from you, Sam. He left you because he wanted to be with me. It was his decision." I laughed bitterly, muttering: "I thought this was a thing of the past, but obviously I was wrong."
"It is… a thing of the past. I accepted his decision and I don't love him like that anymore. I don't know why I did it, I…" She halted, leaning against the windowsill while holding her splinted arm close to her body. Her voice was barely audible as she stated: "We didn't have sex. Randy didn't even touch me. I… tried to kiss him and…" Sam stopped again, swallowing hard and after a collecting breath she continued. "I tried to kiss him and he told me to leave him alone but I didn't and… then he pushed me away and I stumbled, fell and broke my arm. It wasn't his fault. And I was so… angry… that I made him the hickey when he was fast asleep. He was away when I came back from the doc and I was too scared to call him or you and… I'm… I'm so sorry, John…"
All I could do was staring at her in utter disbelief, shocked to my very core. I heard her words but I couldn't believe them. My mind tried hard to wrap around the facts, to process the truth and when it sunk in, really sunk in… the message hit me like a blow, knocking the breath right out of me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think… With a groan I leaned forward, cradling my head in my hands at a sudden sickness. The bloody bitch, she had… she…
Randy hadn't cheated on me…
"Randy," I whispered as I eventually remembered how to breathe. "Randy…"
Faintly I felt Stephen wrap an arm around my shoulders, heard him whisper to me that things would be alright and maybe I laughed or maybe I cried, I wasn't sure. I began to tremble, began to breathe harshly as once again my world was being shaken and turned upside down.
"I'm sorry, John. Really, I…"
A groan escaped my throat, becoming a low growl as it passed my lips.
"You… are sorry. You are… You goddamn, bloody…" I panted, looking back up to her. "Get out! Get THE FUCK out of my house!"
I saw her flinch so heavy that it looked like she had been hit bodily. It was the last thing I saw from her before I buried my face in my hands. Faintly I heard leaving steps and a door falling shut.
A current of relief, rage, desperation, disbelief, of confusion and sorrow and cautious happiness surged through me, the trembling becoming a heavy shivering as a crushing weight was lifted off my heart and this time I knew I was crying. Hot tears spilled from my eyes as I pulled my knees up to my chest, hiding my face against them.
Even drunk Randy had been faithful.
Into my crying laced uncontrolled chuckling as my mind began to whirl. We needed to talk. We could make a new start and things could be alright again. We could be alright again… I needed to apologize to him but after the situation in his locker today the chances were good that he would accept my apology…
His name was dropping from my lips in a mere whisper. Like a mantra.
I never noticed Stephen's arm around my shoulders vanish but when he gave he a rough shake I snapped out of my thoughts, finding his deeply worried eyes roam my face and somehow I knew he didn't look at me like this because I was crying. My heart stumbled painfully in my chest as I rasped his name, the single word carrying a question.
"Phil called," he said slowly. His brows were furrowing in deepening worry and his face darkened as he added: "John… Randy's gone."