Here you go...sorta long but i like it.
Childhood
"So, this is your final decision?"
Carol and John Johnny Fabulous Cena nod their heads at the head desk while their eight year old son plays with little colorful block at the desk, his tiny hands gripping tightly at the sharp objects as he tries to stack the blocks properly. Carol holds her son's shoulders but he moves away swiftly.
"Yes," John's father responds. "Our final decision."
"Are you sure about this, John?" Carol asks him, her voice laced with concern and the man nods his head as John's blocks fall to the floor and the child leans down to pick them up while Johnny stands up and is about to leave, "John, let's go."
"But my blocks-"
"Let's go."
John shakes slightly as he continues to pick up his blocks at a fast pace and he runs along with his father, looking at his father, still slightly buzzed about what's going on as he follows them over to the car.
The car ride is silent.
The child notices the dense atmosphere around them.
Carol is staring outside, unable to understand what's happening as she glances over to her child and gives him a slightly smile and in the house, it's still too silent for the child to comprehend.
John lies outside of his house, trying to find something other than the silence as he plays with his blocks and then he hears the sound of glass breaking and his heart thuds as fast as ever before he stands up and walks over towards the playground, just trying to find the energy that he's had in the morning, that he's now lacking. Why's the world so dark and black?
And the atmosphere is still so dense…
…why?
He's ready to pick up his blocks but he stops in his place and lets the blocks fall down from his hands.
"What's the point…?" tears spring out of the eight year old's eyes. "What's the point of anything anymore…?"
"Randy, are you okay, sweetie?"
Ten year old Randy Orton nods his head; "yeah…" he pulls out a white paper from his bag and stares at it. "I know where I'm supposed to go."
"Sweetie, if you need me, call me." His mother pulls over towards his school and Randy steps out, closing the door behind him.
And he spends the day alone from the rest of his class, silent and he doesn't say a word at all for no one even gives him a face and he wonders if he exists. He pulls out his piece of paper and starts scribbling on it at lunch and his body is pressing against his seat while he watches the people that pass by and he uses the pencil to stab his own flesh, watching the blood flow but still…no one cares.
No one cares.
If he dies…?
He hits his head against his seat. No one cares.
His heart's bleeding on the inside. No one cares.
That night, he rips his wrists and he watches as the blood flows and still…no one cares and his heart's bleeding and his eyes are ready to pool tears out of them but he doesn't. Randy's body's shaking and he can't really breathe and he can't breathe and his head's pounding with horror and terror.
"…Mommy? I need you…"
He's calling her but she doesn't even hear it.
"Mommy…?"
They're paired together when they first met.
John watches as his friend sleeps down, having no blanket to cover him and he's shaking and John pulls him inside of the cover, both of their bodies pressing against each other as a weak smile covers Mike's face.
"What's your name?" John asks.
"Mike."
"Michael Mizanin?" the boy is much known along the neighborhood and John Morrison knows it. He's a troublemaker—or supposed to be, the child is very weak and fragile right now and that shocks John so much.
Mike nods his head. "Y-yeah. That Mike."
"What's wrong?"
"No one likes me…"
John's smile turns into a frown as he runs his hand down Mike's arm and watches as the child's eyes slowly drop and he hears Mike's shallow breathing as John holds onto his new friend.
"No one likes me…"
Even though it doesn't show, Theodore DiBiase has always loved music.
He loves hearing the soft flow of the words and he loves decomposing pieces of music but after high school, he had gotten rejected in all the schools that he'd wanted to go and had ended up in the only school he doesn't like—
Fate hates him.
His best friend, Cody Rhodes, is the only person who knows his passion for music.
He sometimes hears Ted trying to practice his flute and he had gotten him a new flute for his birthday, Ted's practicing has turned better throughout the years and now, all Cody remembers is when Ted has joined wrestling, he'd thrown his flute away in the back of his closet and he'd left his dreams there too.
Cody still has that same exact flute.
Memories are priceless.
And Cody wants priceless.
When Cody Rhodes had been young, he's teased a lot because he's in the soccer team but doesn't know how to play the game.
He tries to run as fast as he could but he falls down too fast and anyone could push him and tackle him to the floor and when he tries to forget it all, those enormous purple-blue bruises are always there to weigh him down when he looks into the mirror.
Ted doesn't know this.
Because if he does, he'd pull him out of the soccer team.
Even if he does want it to happen, he also knows that he wants to impress his father. He wants to find something he's good at. And when they're all in grade eight, Ted joins the team and watches Cody get beaten into a pulp.
"How long has this been going on, Cody?"
Cody stares at him silently before he tells him that it's been going for two years and his heart just shatters at that look that's on Ted's face.
No words are spoken for two weeks.
Until Cody goes up to Ted with tears bubbling from his eyes. "I'm sorry…"
"I just don't want you to get hurt, Cody! I love you!" that's the first time he says it and Cody's eyes spill even more tears, harder and both of them embrace each other as sobs escape his lips.
Cody still remembers that day.
Mike Mizanin loves to plan ahead.
He plans ahead, parties, summers, plans, anything and everything, and he always is organized even if it doesn't seem that way and one day, sitting on the swings next to his ten year old friend, Mike speaks out. "You know, what happens if I don't get married…? Do I get to marry you?"
"I never saw a guy marrying another guy before," John scrunches up his nose, the nine year old is so confused and he has a sweet smile on his face. "But I'd love to marry you, Mike! But I don't think my parents would like it…"
They both stare into each other before laughing.
John takes it as a joke.
Mike takes it too seriously.
Now, Mike stands by John's grave, looking down with a fake, plastic ring on his finger as tears fall down from his face.
"I thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together… why, John? Why? I'm still crazy…I love you… I-I…"
And the only thing heard is his sobs as he falls to the floor.
John Cena doesn't believe in fairy tales.
So after reading Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and Snow White for the ten millionth time in a year, he throws his books away and wonders why he still hopes that there are fairytales even if it's all just trash.
The pain's still there.
Why can't fairytales exist?
Why can't anyone have a happily ever after?
Why does this have to end in pain and tragedy?
John stares down at his books and he still doesn't know why the world's so unfair as he feels acid slosh in his stomach and his head's exploding and he wonders—
"Why don't I just blow my own brains out and get this over with?"
Randy Orton has never gotten help.
The blade still rips.
The pain's still there.
And when he turns eighteen and moves away, he knows that he's still got a drawer full of razors but somehow, all types of pain are too bad and he can't increase the pain anymore. It's too much for him.
"Can't torture yourself, right, can you, Orton?"
John Morrison's first kiss is with Mike Mizanin.
They're both ten years old.
"I saw my father and my mother do it."
And that's why they lean into each other and they don't know how they had added their tongues but it's just happened and both of their hands are over each other as they lean away and—
Mike still remembers the faint hint of vanilla twist that's in his mouth.
He still remembers all the time he's spent reading alone.
He doesn't like reading.
John just puts the countless of books in front of him and reads the beginning and tries to say the ending just by it all and he always knows that the endings are always happy and perky and cheerful and that's what makes him throw the books away when he reads the end and he's yet to find a person that would write that tragic end to the book.
He can read eyes.
Randy's eyes are constantly made of love and life.
But John isn't sure about anything anymore.
All those fairytales are getting to my head…
Games.
They're made to excite.
But both Randy and John are trapped in a game and they can't get out of it. The horror of life and there's one way out but they don't want to escape that way. Not that way without bravery. Suicide. No. John won't handle knowing that he'd die so cowardly and Randy does too.
So he sits through the pain because it's the only thing he can do.
This game is killing us…
Ted DiBiase and Cody's first date involved lots of cookies and kisses and love and affection.
Cody often wonders what happens to all those days that they used to gush about Cody's very white sweater and where they used to giggle about the simplest of things and he wonders about what happens to the days that Ted tastes of that sweet hot chocolate that always lingers in Cody's mouth for hours.
It's all washed away.
Cody remembers the memories of picture day.
Ted never smiles.
It's always imprinted in his memories.
Smile, Ted.
But no one ever smiles anymore so Cody curls his tongue in his mouth and fakes his frowns when he's really happy.
Now, he doesn't remember how to smile anymore.
Mike Mizanin sets his rose down on the desk.
His tear tracks are still there and he has no more energy to fight the tears today and at the same time, he has no energy to cry today. He's so tired and he wants to go to sleep but he can't.
He presses his head on his shoulder.
"John…"
The pain of seeing him die away.
It's just too much.
It's just…too much.
"I love you…"
This is sad and short but oh well...they're a bunch so it makes up for it.
Next one is 'Stripes'. I don't even know what's gonna happen.
X Sam.