Welcome to my new reviewer: AngelVanguard! And I appreciate the continual support from you: Cena's baby doll, therealchamps, and Ty. I thought the title of this chapter was too fitting with this coming PPV, I just hadda do it. Let's dig in :)
Waiting was making Candy feel ill.
She'd ran over the scene with Randy over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of it, but she couldn't. The best thing for someone else is the worst thing for yourself? What the hell was that about? Who was he referring to? She sat on top of speakers that were taller than half her height with her hands crossed over her lap. Her typical straight posture was deflated into a slump form as she mulled over her unrelenting worries. There was a flat screen in front of her, blaring commentary and showing scenes of the live show, proving to be as hectic as her mind. However, she was too preoccupied to notice what was going on and to notice that Randy had already finished his segment.
He came barreling down the hallway with little traces of dried up blood on his hand. He saw her staring idly into space and immediately froze. Taking a deep breath, the wrestler made his way towards her. A line of sweat dripped down his chest to his abdomen as he scratched his head.
"Candy, I'm sorry about the way I acted earlier."
She looked up at the sound of his voice, her features void of emotion. Although he appeared somewhat in calmer spirits from their last meeting, she shrugged.
"Forgive me."
"I will," she said. "If you can tell me what the hell that was about."
Randy snapped his head to the side. He knew he couldn't comply with her request; he'd promised himself to never speak of his feelings for Alyssa, especially to Candy. She would never be able to compete with that, and she didn't need to know that. He was doing her a favor. Omission was doing her a favor.
"I can't do that," he said.
She furrowed her eyebrows and jumped off the sitting position. She stood firmly on the ground, her small frame dwarfed by his tall height. With the intensity in her eyes, she felt as if she were just as tall.
"And why is that?" she asked. She watched Randy clench his jaw before taking another turn to ask a question. "Was that about me? Were you trying to say that you've only been hanging out with me because you felt bad for me?"
Suddenly, Randy felt like he'd retreated back to the timeframe of his teenager self. The last question sounded too familiar. He regretted having to think back on the day Alyssa and him fell apart over a decade ago.
"Answer me, Randy!"
The harsh tone in her voice, bleeding with anger, forced him back to the present. "No. It wasn't about you."
"Then who?"
"I can't tell you."
Candy threw up her hands, exasperated. She shook her head violently, but there was a slight tremble in her lips.
"You're just gonna have to trust my word."
"Trust? How am I supposed to trust someone who's been meeting with his ex-wife behind my back?"
"Behind your back? When did I start needing to report my every move to you? You're not even my girlfriend."
"You're right; I'm not your girlfriend. And I'm done being anything to you." The brunette stormed off, bumping into him in the process.
He closed his eyes in fear. He'd gone through this situation before, with two other women, but something about this felt the absolute worst.
John freed himself of the hat as soon as he got into his locker room. He'd kicked off the show with a microphone and was scheduled a match for the main event later tonight. As always, the chanting crowd fed him intrinsic energy, and it didn't matter whether they were cheering or booing. Any reaction was good for him; it was all entertainment. After leaving the ring, he conversed with his colleagues before heading for his locker room to watch the rest of the show. Now that the episodes were three hours in duration, rather than historic two, he had more time to unwind before his match. He brought his bottom to the cracked leather couch, feeling the cushion strain against his weight.
The show was already playing on the TV, and he watched in silence as two wrestlers joined contact in the middle of the ring. He grew immersed into the match, observing moves of each player and learning their tendencies and weaknesses. He went through match after match until finally, the door opened.
He waited to shift his line of sight until he was sure of who was in his presence.
"Finished with work for the night," Alyssa said, stepping backward to shut the door behind her.
John grinned. "All mine now."
"I've been all yours," she said, walking towards the couch. She flopped beside him and nestled under his muscular arms. He did a good job perching his weight not to pressure her shoulders.
"How was backstage?" he asked, digging his fingers into her hair. He returned his eyes to the on-going match.
"Good," she said.
"That's great, baby."
No words left either of their mouths as the voices from the screen spilled out and filled the room. They grew completely enthralled in the entertainment, their eyes dancing left and right. After a couple minutes, the show went on commercial.
"I talked to Randy today."
John, flustered by the sudden news, angled his head to her direction. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." She looked down at John's shorts and began fidgeting with the hem.
"And?"
"His script ended up in my batch. I guess I mixed it up with Jackie's. Either way, I was bound to see him since I'd taken over her half of the roster for this round."
"How was it?"
"It was brief. I said I had his script. I handed it to him. He said thank you. He shut the door."
"That's it?"
"Well, he opened the door again, but then he walked right past me to warm up."
"Oh."
"Yep."
"Are you okay?"
"Yep."
John shot her a look. "I don't think you are."
"I am." She met his blue orbs and didn't seem to buckle under his gaze.
"I'm guessing you're not used to getting treated like that by Randy?"
"Nope." She allowed the truth to marinate before saying anymore. It wasn't easy to admit, but it came out faster than she expected. There was no denial. "I'm okay, I promise. I guess it just threw me off a bit. I didn't really know what to expect. I haven't really thought much of him, and yet he used to cross my mind every single day. How can you know someone all your life, then all of a sudden, you act like they're just a stranger?"
"It's the space. You guys gave each other space, and it made you two not know how to react towards each other."
"Yeah, that's true."
"But you say you're okay, right?"
"I am."
"Okay, then."
"Okay, then," she repeated.
"Now bring that frown for me to kiss." John tugged on her hair lightly.
"It is not a frown. I'm just not smiling."
John cupped the back of her neck- the strands of her hair split all around his wrist- to bring her closer. His lips pecked her temple.
"Thank you," she said.
"For?"
"For not jumping my ass about Randy and our past. For trying to understand me."
He smiled and shrugged. "You're the one who taught me how to do that."
"Hm?"
"This morning. With the whole Candy situation. Thank you for trying to understand me, too," John said.
Alyssa pressed on John's thigh. "That's the thing, we're both trying, but I don't think it's working yet."
He shrugged. "We have all the time in the world to keep trying, Alyssa."
She crashed her head against his chest and smiled warmly. "I like the sound of that."
During John's matches, Alyssa often perched the door open to allow more air in the locker room. She hated feeling confined in one space alone, especially in a building as big as this arena. That was no different tonight. Her eyes were glued to the screen, intently watching the champion work his way around the ring. It was nothing short of John's typical delivery and tenacity, and no matter how many matches of his she's watched, she never got tired of it. He moved so effortlessly on the mat, even during the moments he strained under his opponent's submission. It was a beauty to watch, and there was nothing more worthy of her attention.
She watched in silence until a commotion erupted from the outside. Voices grew loud and the clamoring of metal filled the backstage. This wasn't typical, but it wasn't part of the ordinary either. Alyssa shifted her eyes from the match to the open door frame to the match again.
"Randy!" she heard.
More unfamiliar noises. Clattering. Smashing. Breaking. Crumbling.
She stood up and slowly walked towards her door. She peered into the outside, her breaths becoming more shallow. All she saw was wall and more wall. She stepped into the hallway and followed the frantic voices. Her steps grew more stride when she heard what sounded like a ladder plummeting down on the concrete. It bounced against the cement.
Randy, still in his ring attire but with a black t-shirt on, was throwing everything in sight. His moves were so vicious, no one dared to step foot within a ten feet radius. His eyes were bulging out. His skin was a hot crimson. He uttered heavy grunts with no formidable words.
Alyssa found herself running closer and echoing the words of the other by-standers. "Randy!"
As he spun to grab the next nearest item, his gaze landed on hers. He quickly looked away and launched a laminate table to the other side of the hall. The wood skidded along before cracking in half.
"Randy, stop." Alyssa moved closer to grab his arm. "Please stop."
He gritted his teeth, his eyes getting smaller as he squinted down at her. "Why the hell should I?"
"Whatever you're going through, you don't have to do this. Please. This isn't you!"
"Not me?" Randy pointed at his heaving chest. He kicked the scathed piece of wood by his foot. "This is me. This is me. This is just how it looks like when I'm not in love with you."
Alyssa pursed her trembling lips. She almost wanted to lean back and coil into a ball.
"I've left you alone." He kicked more wood and debris with his black boot. "Leave me alone now."
Alyssa looked down as he rushed past her. He was gone and out of sight before she realized a tear had trickled down her cheek.
John was used to commotion on and off stage, but the silence after his match was startling. As he walked back into the gorilla, lips and glances turned away from him. One after another after another. It was a domino effect he didn't understand. Bryan Danielson- popularly known as Daniel Bryan- was the sole brave soul who stopped to talk to him. John didn't know what to anticipate, but he found himself plummeting to worry at the mention of Alyssa and Randy. Almost instantly, he found himself drifting off into terror as he heard about broken ladders, tables, and chairs. His eye fell from the shorter man to the ground, only key words registering to comprehension. Panic was welling up inside, and although he appreciated the debrief, all John wanted was to talk to Alyssa. Where was she? Was she okay? How did this happen? John opened his mouth with his eyes struck in wonder. He placed his palm over Bryan's deltoids.
"Thank you for letting me know. I gotta go find Al." John mentally withdrew himself from emotion as his steps grew speed. He ignored his ached muscles from his match to focus on the simple task of finding his girlfriend. The hustle and frenzy backstage became secondary to the convulsions in his chest.
By the time he reached his locker room door, hesitation halted him. He took a deep breath, knowing that change will flood-forth, before placing his palms to push open the barricade.
"Alyssa-"
She pulled her face from her hands, and it became obvious she'd been crying from the hair sticking to her cheek. She was sunken down on the couch.
"John, I-"
He found himself beside her before she managed to get in another word.
"I don't know why the hell I'm crying. I really don't."
"Come here, baby." John engulfed her whole frame into his arm. His chin rested atop her hair as he ran his hand up and down her upper limb. "You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."
Alyssa bit her bottom lip to lessen the trembling. John's touch was pulling her away from oblivion, and she blinked rapidly. Her lashes were damp but she ignored them as she moved to stare into John's eyes. "Did you hear about what happened?"
"Eh, a little."
"How much is that?" She adjusted herself to get a better view of his face.
"Enough for me to know that something about Randy still affects you."
Guilty, she looked away and sighed.
"Listen-" John placed his hand firmly on her back. "Whatever happened back there, you're gonna be okay."
She nodded in silence but still refrained from meeting his glance.
The room was awfully cold, and John not having a shirt– fresh from his match– made his skin prickle. He didn't fully understand what exactly happened or could even imagine the depths of Alyssa's mind. All he knew was that he didn't like this look on her face, and he wouldn't dare add on to her stress. "We can sit here for as long as you like, or I could start packing our stuff so we could go back to our hotel."
"No." Alyssa shook her head and stood up. It was obvious she feigned the strength. "I can help pack."
John stood up with her. "I can do it, baby."
She looked at him and forced her lips into a grin. "I'll help."
"Alright, but let me wipe your eyes first." John gently ran his thumbs over her cheeks before bending down to kiss her salted lips.
As soon as their mouths disconnected, she reached for him and gave another firm kiss. It relinquished all the tension coiled in her muscles which ultimately became enough to move her along the rest of the night. With John, she was able to forget Randy and the scene backstage. She was able to pack her belongings and head out of the arena without looking back. She was able to get into their hotel room and relax.
By midnight, the sound of John's heartbeat was lulling her to sleep, and she knew, just as he'd told her earlier, that everything was going to be alright.
Randy had thrown and broken things backstage, and Alyssa came to try and stop him. Randy yelled at her for it, and she ended up in tears.
That was all John knew, and although it was a short list of facts, he couldn't stop himself from ruminating the situation all night. It'd been hours since Alyssa fell asleep on his chest– after refraining to mention any more about what happened– and by now she'd shifted completely on her side of the bed. It left him cold, but it left him burning to get out of the bed as well. It was constricting to not only be thinking of the same goddamn thing but his body was starting to ache from steadily being in the same position.
Filtering from the darkness, John pulled himself out of the bed and trekked his way to his duffle bag. There, he pulled out a hooded sweatshirt and socks for his shoes. He put these items on, adding the layers to combat the night breeze. He slipped into his shoes, checked for his phone, and made his way to the door.
He hastily thumbed through his contacts while making his way down the empty hallway. The name he sought after wasn't hard to find, and he hoped the person was still awake. After two rings, the lines connected.
"Hello?"
"Randy, it's John. Can we talk?"