Title: Make It Better
Rated: M (Mature)
Genre(s): Romance/Drama
Pair(s): Jericho/Phil, Jeff/Adam, Cody/OC, Mark/Randy, Hunter/Shawn, etc.
Summary: Sequel to Please, Don't Leave Me. Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.
Warning: Slash
Part: 4/?
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The resounding smack of a fist connecting with a face echoed in the empty hallway. Phil's eyes widened as he stumbled back, his cheek already turning a vibrant red and swelling rapidly. When his back hit the wall, he stared at the somewhat menacing form of the GM. John was breathing heavily, his face flushed, and his suit jacket thrown on the floor. John took a step closer and, instinctively, Phil tried to take a step back. But his back was flush against the wall, and now, there was nowhere to go. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he desperately tried to look anywhere but directly at the GM, but the man's hand closed around his chin and forced him to look into his eyes.
Phil tried to wrench away, but that was a mistake. Before he even had time to blink, another fist connected with his cheek, landing directly over the bruise. Olive colored eyes slid closed as the pain sent electric sparks down his body, nausea creeping into his system ever so slowly. He took a breath, his body sliding down the wall of its own volition. But the GM's hand clenched around his shirt and yanked him back onto his feet. Once again, he was forced to look into the man's eyes. He didn't understand why the GM hated him so much. People shouldn't be so afraid to be able to speak their mind…
"Are you done?" John hissed, his eyes steeled over and his other hand clenching at his side.
Phil squeezed his eyes closed. "Is that the best you have?"
He almost received another hit for that comeback, but John caught himself. Instead, he laughed. He laughed as if all of this was just a fantastic joke. "I don't think you understand, Punk. Your fans… your title… your job… it's all ancient history. I'm not sure if you heard, but your sweet husband… he's agreed to another shot at your title."
Phil's eyes widened, the sheer disbelief obvious on his face. "But, Chris… he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt me like Mark Henry did…"
"Guess your husband isn't the wonderful man you thought he was."
"No! Don't say that!" Tears leaked down his face now, stinging the cut on his face from where the GM's rings had sliced his face. "He loves me."
"Aww, that's so sweet. It's sickening." John said. "If he loves you so much, like you say, then where is he now? Why isn't he here to defend you?"
"Because I can defend myself!"
"Oh, really?" John sounded shocked. "Then why haven't you hit me back?"
But Phil didn't hear him. He was still reeling from the fact that Chris had agreed to all of this. That he had agreed to retire Bethany and Carolina way before their time, and had made another attack on Daylee. This couldn't be the same man that loved him… could it. Biting his lip tentatively, he wasn't surprised to feel hands bunch the material of his shirt and thrust him violently into the wall. He spluttered, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Once again, John made him look into his eyes. Phil hated this man. He hated him for what he was trying to do with his relationship to Chris. But most of all, he hated himself for letting it happen.
"When I ask you a question, Punk, you ANSWER me! Is that understood?"
"Loud and clear, sir." Phil hissed, closing his eyes to the pain. "Bastard." He muttered under his breath.
He missed the GM's sickening smirk. "You will tell no-one about what happened here. Not that they'd believe you, anyway. And next week, when you're medically cleared to wrestle, you'll defend your title again."
And with that, the GM vanished. However, his presence was soon replaced with another. Chris wandered down the hall, still filled with adrenaline from his match. He hated what he had done to those girls out there, but John Laurainitis held that power over all of the wrestlers on the roster. With their jobs in the palm of his hand, he could do pretty much anything he wanted. Warm blue eyes fell on his husband, who was huddled in the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. When he saw the blood on his face, he quickly rushed over to him. He touched a hand to Phil's shoulder, but Phil flinched away.
"Don't touch me!" Phil hissed, the small movement of his shoulder sending flares of pain across his body.
"Phil, baby, please…" Chris pleaded. "I just want to help you."
"When were you planning on telling me that you 'earned' another shot at my title, huh?" Phil inched away from him slowly. "You know I hate it when you keep stuff from me."
"I'm so sorry, baby…"
"Just leave me alone…" And Phil ran away from him again.
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A/N: Please Review!