Yay! The seventh one-shot!
I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. It was fun.
__
Heaven
__
That morning, as John Cena walks up to cold air and a dull sun and a cloudy day, he stands up and dresses into casual clothes, not forgetting his favorite black and orange hat as he steps out of the hotel room and into the world and as he walks down to feel energized and happy and livid, he actually feels tired and depressed and dead inside and he knows why.
Yesterday's scene had been running in and out of John's conscious and subconscious when he's asleep, the words that slip out of Hunter's tongue, the harsh words that could've broken him and Randy at once, and he doesn't know how to stop it from spiraling into his head and as he passes the park, he realizes that there's this sad little boy with blue eyes and a broken face and as John registers his appearance, he realizes that the sad little boy is actually Randy Orton and as he walks towards him with a sweet smile and hidden clustered pain, Randy doesn't look up at all.
"Good morning, right?"
No words slip out of Randy's tongue and his eyes are foggy and unclear and it's like dreams are spinning through his head, so surreal and so inside of his dreams, and so broken hearted and so very hurt that John's tempted to sit next to him. "Hey, don't give me that look," he says and he sits down next to him, his voice's soft now and he knows why. "Is something wrong?"
Everything's so wrong and it's all because of him and you know it more than anyone does Randy looks at John's face and no words escape and he's just trapped into his thoughts. "Get the hell away from me," Randy spits out, his voice's venom, alcoholic acid burning up.
"Why are you acting this way?" John says and everything's so drained out of his brain that all he notices is Randy's broken and cracked and shattered eyes and he doesn't think he can notice anything else. Nothing but Randy's eyes exist now and his words just break the fragile blue substance in Randy's eyes.
"Anyone who can't take care of a family acts this way, anyone who's no good acts this way, so why can't I?" John doesn't know how to process the words that are going out of Randy's tongue because all he's doing is staring at his broken eyes and that's all he can ever do and they don't notice the silence that's pouring between them every few moments.
"I can't take care of my daughter, don't you know? I've got nothing, don't know, Cena? You've heard those words before, and you know it." You just don't understand John's mind has been flashing to Randy's conversation and last night and flashes of lightening blue striking lightening that cuts John straight open and pounding light. "Actually, since I've got nothing, I must be nothing. No heart. No mind. No nothing, huh, Cena? I'm so made of nothing and I'm so nothing that I don't know what love means. I'll never even be able to take care of Alanna."
And even as Randy walks off, John's in his own little world where everything's just spiraling out of reach and he doesn't understand anything at all because it's all so confusing. It's all too confusing and he stares up in the sky and he wonders of the gray dots in the sky, the gray line, is that what love is? All just gray area and blurred lines.
Blurred lines of John's heart.
Gray area of Randy's blood.
Clustered together, is it love?
__
John Cena strides down the road and thoughts are running through his head and he doesn't know what to think or what to grasp on and he just steps towards the hotel but shakes his head because he's not going inside and he doesn't want to be locked up and he wants to be in the fresh air even if it's really suffocating you, John and he stands towards the building.
John's face turns rigid and cold and hard and he knows that his thoughts are only spinning around Randy Orton and spiraling around the words as he tries to connect them from his mind.
"Anyone who can't take care of a family acts this way?"
A shiver runs down John's spine. He hates hearing it, running through his head, his voice, filled with disgust at himself, rolling punches in his own stomach—his voice, weak and fragile, hating himself, more than he'll ever hate John.
"Anyone who's no good acts this way, so why can't I?"
I'm no good, Randy. You're better than I ever was.
"I can't take care of my daughter, don't you know?"
… "You know that Orton doesn't even deserve a family. He's just no good. If he can't take care of his daughter, then who can he take care of?"…
It's not your fault, Randy.
John suddenly knows that Randy's been eavesdropping on his and Triple H's conversation and he stands so stiff and so frozen and so straight and he wants to run and find Randy but his mind won't let him because everything's just replaying and replaying and replaying…
"I've got nothing, don't know, Cena? You've heard those words before, and you know it."
…"His wife's probably cheating on him. He's got nothing and he'll never have anything."…
You've got my respect, Orton. My respect. You'll always have that…
John steps back and he doesn't even notice it as his head continues to pound and throb and spin and he doesn't even care anymore as he sees and hears and feels everything he's felt before as he hears the conversation, as he knows what he could've said.
"Actually, since I've got nothing, I must be nothing. No heart. No mind. No nothing, huh, Cena? I'm so made of nothing and I'm so nothing that I don't know what love means. I'll never even be able to take care of Alanna."
…"The man doesn't even know what love means, so why should I care that he can't take care of his daughter? He'll never be able to."…
Don't tell me you don't have anything, Orton. You have my respect…you…
John starts running as he realizes the last few words of that sentence and he's running to the bus stop and he knows that he's got to get to the hotel and he wants to get to Randy as fast as possible.
You…
John's eyes can't hide anything anymore, love, affection, pain, hurt, years and years of childish hope are shining bright white, bright hope, in his eyes and he doesn't even care.
You have my heart, Randy Orton.
__
Randy stands by the bus stop and looks down at the floor, with his face rigid and hard and his eyes are dull and he slowly moves to the bus before a sound had struck him and he falls to the floor. A puddle splashes and plasters and drowns Randy's body in cold water and Randy looks up miserably to find those blue eyes—blue eyes of John Cena, your blue eyes—and he stands up, with cold droplets falling on him as well little droplets of melted snowflakes fall away…heartbreak.
Randy turns off and is ready to leave when he feels John Cena's hand grab and press onto Randy's and he looks back at John Cena who pleads with his eyes, his face's relaxed but his eyes are pleading, and Randy can see that and that's why he stands there, staring at the man who's broken him, who's shattered him, who's left the pieces on the floor and not picked them up.
"I-I wrote you something, Orton," Randy arches an eyebrow in confusion and amusement and he knows he just wants to run away from John's face but they're staring at each other's eyes right now and they're locked and their souls are trapped and John pulls out a crumpled paper, trying to straighten it. "Here, read this."
Randy crosses his arms and looks at him with sternness and his eyes are looking down with pain from black memories over clouding his head, "I'll go, Cena." John notices that his voice's strained with broken pain, and a want for love and a need for help and his eyes are strained with shattered music.
John opens his chapped and cracked lips and he looks back down at the tattered paper and he doesn't say another word for a while. "My time is up. Your time is now. Somehow, you let yourself break up—and I'm pretty sure you know how. I can't see you. But I know you're stuck with black and blue glue. And you don't know what to do. So let me fly to your rescue because it's you I pursue."
Eyes lock up again, John's with desire and lust and Randy's with confusion and hurt and they move towards each other, like a dance, with the sultry winter sky being the only guide and they're still staring at their arms as Randy puts his hand in John's hand and they look up at the forever sky that painted no limits now.
They're in heaven now.
__
I like the last line. :P
Next one. 'Innocence'.
Summary: John Cena's making Randy look for a bottle in the beach sand. The question is: why?
This one will be a mixture of fluff and angst. Yeah. It'll make much more sense when you read it.