new chapter, thank you lovelies for sticking to this story, love the support, love the new follows, favs, reviews, summerslam is tomorrow bitches, and found out i might be going to a Raw show when they're over here in Manchester, so yeah, i'm a happy girl :3
hope you enjoy this chapter, i don't know, i never know, let me know!

Punk sat quietly cross legged in his old tree house, watching the sun go down over the valley with a ice cold Pepsi in his hand, a tree house that once he and Colt made when they were bored from moving into the first house he had ever bought. Chicago had been a bit chilly still, a week had gone by and he still thought about the wedding, it was supposed to be perfect, magical, and something he'd always remember for the rest of his life and feel good about it. This was definitely going to stay with him forever. He was a married man now, and what he needed now was an annulment.

He took a drink of his Pepsi and slowly swallowed, tapping the mouth of the bottle slowly against his bottom lip. He had hoped his mind wouldn't still be all over the place when he returned back to his old home, but somehow the events still churned in his head, or more specifically one specific person: Amy. Now Mrs Amy Dumas-Brooks, international heart-breaker extraordinaire. The last person he ever wanted to see – he didn't want to see her, talk to her or even think about her but somehow that was what he ending up doing the moment he woke up till the minute he fell asleep, he'd be lucky if he did sleep at all.

Her tousled red hair than shun brighter in the sunlight, just below her shoulders, with long, side-swept bangs that kept sliding into her eyes and she kept pushing out of her face. It suited her well, drawing attention to her green doe eyes. That smoky, soft voice, like she was constantly getting over a cold, had wrapped itself around his name and somehow played on repeat in his head all night. Yes, he remembered her. How could he not?

This woman he had given his heart to, who he had a crush on for almost 15 years, the woman who had broken it within minutes. Every morning, he would wake up angry, frustrated and confused. He was hurt, though it pained him as much to admit it. CM Punk can never get hurt, he is the chick magnet, no one, not anything could ever – hurt – C M Punk.

She had left him humiliated, in front of his closest family members, in front of his peers and work colleagues that he would have to see everyday, friends that he's known his whole life, before the wrestling, before he was known as CM Punk, but when he was a vulnerable, loner, punk kid named as Phillip Brooks. He had no doubts that the video had gone viral by now, TMZ headlines mocking him. The thought of returning back to work made his skin crawl – the moment he set foot into work he knew there would be his friends taking pity, everything's going to be okay, you'll work it out with Amy, there are other girls for you. Truth was – everything wasn't going to be okay, he didn't want to work things out with Amy, things were never going to be okay with him and Amy, there relationship as friends, lovers was over. He didn't want to be with any other woman, he was always alone, and that's how Punk liked it. Alone.

To say he was heart broken was an understatement. There had been more than a few days after she had left the last time when he'd considered tracking her down, he had deleted her number the day he had started staying at his old home, because he knew he would want to use it, call her, he had no idea what he was going to say. Probably remind her that she was a slut, a whore – but even he didn't have the guts to do that. CM Punk, the guy who always told the truth no matter how harsh. But despite all the logical arguments his head could give as reasons to forget her, he couldn't seem to actually do it. However, to his let down, it did not seem like these feelings were mutual.

After the initial shock he had so many questions, but then she'd already gone, no doubt with the motherfucker Matt and if that didn't anger him to his core he didn't know what would. He had guessed that she had taken Matt damn him to hell, on the honeymoon that Punk had carefully planned for 2 days straight. No doubt they were making love on a beach somewhere. Cassie, Chez and Chaleen had called, and left a countless amount of messages on his phone, asking about him, asking about Amy damn her to hell, he had decided to not answer them. He was there big brother, someone they looked up to, someone they never saw break down and quit. But that's what he was doing, he thought as he sat staring into the abyss that was the night sky.

He couldn't exactly cross-examine Matt either, not while he was still livid, he hadn't managed to get any answers; he couldn't go back to his apartment on the other side of Chicago, everything that reminded him of her would be there.

Punk would constantly remind himself of the first time he had met Matt, about 3 years ago when he had been drafted to WWE and she was still his friend and she wanted to start a band. It had all clicked, everything made sense, light bulbs were flashing – they had spent so much time together, regardless if they were in a band or not. He hadn't even seen him, or heard of him, Amy had not made any attempts of getting in touch with him, which had broke him down even more, knowing that they didn't care. Sure, Punk could've punched him in the face, broke his ribs, broke his legs, but what about Punk. The two of them had broken him emotionally.

A gentle ruffling from outside, soft crunching of leaves, grunting and groaning he turned his head to see Colt standing behind him, he was panting, struggling to pull himself into the tree house, hands gripping onto the oak wood they had built the tree house with.

"I knew it, you tattooed motherfucker." Punk didn't respond, and waited till he felt his shadow hovering over him.

"I remember when we built this, we spent all fucking day, I nailed my finger, bled all over the place. And when we finished, we fell asleep and we were fucking cold so we ended up cuddled."

"What happened to "never talking about what happened after we built this tree house," Punk laughed, a bitter taste still left in his mouth.

"We're all worried about you man."

"Has Amy called?"

Colt was silent, Punk got his answer – he tossed his empty Pepsi bottle outside with the rest of them and started on a new one. He noticed that his friend had lost a considerable amount of weight. Still toned and muscular, but the loss of weight didn't go unnoticed.

"Phil, come on."

"What Scott? Fucking what? What am I supposed to do? Go back to work, pretend that my wedding never happened? Pretend I never saw that video? Pretend I'm dying inside, Amy never betrayed me, cheated on me."

"All my friends, all my peers know what a failure I am, they're going to pity me, feel sorry for me - you're doing it now. They''ll know I was never able to satisfy Amy like that bastard, Matt. This is never going to leave me, I've got serious trust issues, I can't trust anyone any more, I can't go into work, they're all just, Scott, I can't go."

"No. Stop. No one's feeling sorry for you, we're sorry about what happened because if it happened to me, well - look, you're you. You're CM Punk, you don't take shit from anybody, you have nothing to worry about when you go back to work. But, man, you can't live like this. When was the last time you ate, you look like you've dropped 15 pounds – you're hurt now, of course you're hurt but fuck man, you need to wrestle. You need to take a shower, eat like 20 pizza's, punch some weights. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There's nothing I can say that will make you feel better, make this pain go away or whatever but you're gonna have to move on, sooner or later. Amy's a bitch we've all established that, and Matt's a bastard. Lucky for you I got all of Amy's shit and dropped it off at her place. Nothing in your apartment will remind you of her and you know what, you don't even need to go there because I've packed your bag, you're gonna come to my place, we're gonna watch some movies, eat, eat, sleep and you're gonna get your ass out of Chicago."

Punk was dumbfounded at Colt – he was literally speechless. He was right, nothing he could say or would say would make him feel better – he would have to channel his anger into his wrestling, and he too had noticed how thin he had gotten. The Pepsi's hadn't helped with his insomniac sleeping pattern, but he needed to sleep in a proper bed. He couldn't help but feel slightly better, happier – he couldn't even remember what it felt like to feel happy. He followed Colt out of the tree house, when his feet reached the grass he found Lars, Chris, Chez's mom, Chez Chaleen and Cassie standing idly by, not knowing what to say, what was the right thing to say.

"I was so worried about you," Chez's mom wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Punk's chest constricted, he suddenly felt selfish having excluded himself from the rest of his family for so long, he hadn't thought about his family. "NEVER do that again! I was so upset, we were all so upset!"

"I'm sorry, ma come on, I'm sorry." He wrapped his tattooed ones around the tiny women who continued sobbing – he cast his eyes around the group of people that were here, there was one person missing. He hated her, he hated her guts but he missed her so much. She always knew the right words to say, how to comfort him and soothe him when he was down – she wasn't here to see him at his most vulnerable state. He was glad, wasn't he?

"Let's go get those pizza's." Chez's mom realised her grip, but reached for Punk's hand gripping it with love and security – he wanted food, he wanted the hatred that was bubbling inside of him to disappear, he wished he never saw that video - but after a week since he last saw her, he knew it was finally time to get a grip, and return back to the WWE.

Phoebe leaned back against in head rest in her seat on the aeroplane that would take her to Stamford, Connecticut – she could not believe how smoothly everything had gone so far – no delays, everything seemed to have waited for her, the train, the shuttle bus,, this plane – but she couldn't wait to get off and into her hotel room before she had to head out and sightsee around the area. She had never been to Connecticut so this was definitely new.

The 2 long weeks she had off had made her realised how tired she was really feeling, months of slaving away had paid off. She visited family and friends, went shopping, saw friends, bowling, cinema, hiking, rock climbing, went gliding – every day was something different. The air was warm and moist in Boston when she first arrived that morning, she was feeling at an all-time low, she felt so lonely, no idea who she was anymore. She went from crying the moment she woke up, crying in the shower, crying in the car when travelling to the next city – to not having a single worry, waking up happy, motivated and feeling good about herself. Like she had something to live for.

She hadn't thought about Punk, or her mixed feelings towards Dolph in a long time – it felt good, she felt strangely healthy. After the two weeks had passed she knew it was time to put on her big girl pants and get back to work. She was finally on her way to making dreams come true, writing captivating storylines – god bless Stephanie McMahon. It was going to be a beautiful day in Connecticut, Phoebe could tell. All the time she was in Boston there were no screaming fan girls, no matches, no hectic back stage drama, no travelling, hotel beds – but she missed it. It was going to be different living in a new city, but she knew she would occasionally have to travel with Stephanie to the live shows – she was prepared and so ready.

There were no clouds left, and by the time she reached Connecticut there was a pinky, purple orange coloured horizon emerging, she had gotten out of the plane, having not slept a wink in 46 hours, she grabbed her one and only suitcase, and stripped down her jacket. She had ditched the corporate look, and settled for comfort slash professional – blazer, skinny jeans, and a wrestling shirt of some sort, just no more five inch heels. Today it was converse, another day beetle crushers, another day Docs.

It was so different here, and it seemed to Phoebe that the people here were not his kind of people – ridiculously shallow, judgemental, and extremely rude. Anything's better than being backstage at the WWE arena – she thought sadly, did anyone even remember her, all the people I had once had lunch with, conversed in conversation. Was I just Punk's assistant, Alberto's assistant. Of course you were darling, you were nothing more. She ran her hand through her brunette. feathery hair, and smiled to himself. Might as well make the most of it Phoebe, she thought.

Tomorrow was her big day, and she couldn't be more nervous for anything. Well, he was a little excited, but this was a new chapter in her life, she hadn't been an assistant long, in all honesty she thought she would be doing that gig for at least another year. But tomorrow she would add another accomplished goal to her list – fingers crossed, all goes well.