Max arrives back at his hotel room, barely aware of what's going on around him. He stands in the doorway, fingers flexing, empty. Instead of his Triple B, all he has in-hand is his cell phone. The phone he had stared at through the ride over, stared at in the elevator up, had just... stared. Waiting, hoping, for it to light up. For it to show Adam's name. A text. Something, anything.
But no, it remains dark, quiet. He shifts forward, lets the door shut behind him with a loud bang, and then shuffles further into the room. Across the room, his and Adam's tag titles are laying, safe. Mocking him even further than the absence of his own belt had. His shoulders itch, remind him of what actually was the final straw- the unwanted touch of Max Caster against his skin after months of weird tweets and notes, adding to his spinning emotions. Leading him to this moment, alone in his hotel room, clinging to a cell phone that no one cares enough to contact him on.
He exhales, shudders, and finally slumps against the wall, pressing his fingers into his eyes before sinking down to the floor. Thunking his head back against the wall, he brings the phone up and numbly flicks through different menus before he stops short, staring at the call log. Adam's name taunts him, leaves him thinking about trying again. But the thought of once more hearing that automated voicemail message, further proof that Adam's ignoring him, leaves him cold, close to panicking, so he just sits, stares at it, trying to breathe somewhat normally. "Fuck," he exhales, voice shaky, a little highpitched.
He leans his head back, closing his eyes. There's just too much going on, too many thoughts cluttering his mind.
-x
Adam doesn't remember when exactly he fell asleep the night before. The pain meds he's been prescribed while he waits for surgery kick his ass harder than usual, and he doesn't know if it has to do with all of his prior concussions or that they're just really good drugs, but whatever it is, he's relieved for it, lingering a little while longer in this bubble of sleepy warmth so thorough that his ankle isn't even aching yet.
Then his phone beeps and he squints over at the table it's sitting on, reaching carefully for it. "What the-?" he mumbles, frowning at the numbers on his screen. Five new voicemails, ten text messages. "What the hell?" The texts are mostly from Roddy, he assumes the voicemails will be as well. Still not thrilled with Roddy after forcing him to redecorate his living room on one good leg, Adam chooses to check the text from Kyle first.
Hey, tried calling you- it went right to your voicemail, and it's not like you to have your phone off. Hope you're doing alright. Talk later.
Adam frowns, confused, then goes through the rest of the texts and the voicemails and they all say basically the same thing. He curses, realizing what must've happened when he notices a strange triangle alert on his phone. He sits up slowly and holds the power button to reboot the device, frowning down at it. Whatever calls he's gotten have apparently been lost into the ether, the only hint of their existence being the voicemails and the texts. He scrubs at his eyes and grimaces, realizing he fell asleep before Dynamite even began airing the night before. While scrolling through and responding to the texts, explaining as best as he could about the phone glitch, he brings up AEW's website to read a recap of the show and skims it, looking for Max's name.
Halfway through reading, he pales. "Oh, no." Immediately closing out the text he'd been in the progress of sending to Roddy, he switches over and dials Max's number, biting his lower lip as he reads more carefully through the rest of the recap, pressing a hand to his mouth and scrubbing at it miserably. "Holy shit."
Everything that could've gone wrong, did go wrong, and he'd slept through all of it.
-x
Max doesn't remember falling asleep. He remembers staring at his phone, replaying the moment where he'd called Adam and it'd rung and rung and rung before taking him to some automated voicemail box. in front of Renee and the camera, broadcasting his best friend's rejection in front of the entire world. His body is chilled, subtle shivers trembling down his spine, and he groans, his neck stiff and protesting every move he tries to make. "The fuck?" he breathes, something making a rough noise to his side. It takes him a minute before he realizes it's his phone vibrating against his leg from where it rests on the floor.
He blindly grabs for it and squints at the screen, barely able to make anything it says out, before answering groggily. "What?"
"Max," Adam says, sounding shaken. "Max, hey, I-"
"Oh," he says bitterly, rubbing at his eyes. "Now you call."
"Max, listen-"
"No, look, I get it," Max interrupts, too tired and sore to deal with whatever excuses Adam might have thought of since the night before. "I saw you were at Roddy's, dealing with his feng shui or whatever. It's fine, I believed you on the boat when you were talking about having multiple friends being healthy, but of course it's easier to hang out with Roddy, he's not the one responsible for your ankle being fucked, and-"
"Max!" Adam exclaims loudly, finally quieting Max's rant. "Listen, you heard the emergency alert test yesterday, right?"
Max huffs and rubs at his face for a moment before shrugging. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I tried dismissing it, and I think it glitched my phone," Adam says hurriedly. "It wouldn't ring in for anyone, just sent them to my voicemail. I could call out and receive texts so I didn't notice. The meds knocked me out early last night, and I woke up to a bunch of texts and voicemails all telling me about how my phone was screwed up. I didn't purposely ignore your call, Max, I promise. I never got it."
Max sits with this for a minute, struggling to understand. "What the fuck?" he mumbles, running a hand through his hair, still trying to wake up fully. "Seriously?"
"Yes, Max," Adam insists. "I wouldn't have ignored you if I had known."
Max sighs and drops his head back against the wall again, wincing audibly. "Shit."
"Are you ok?" Adam asks softly after a moment.
"No," Max answers immediately. "Not really. Last night just really..." He inhales painfully. "Really sucked."
"I'm so sorry, Max," Adam murmurs.
"Not your fault," Max sighs. "I just..."
"What?"
"I just really could've used hearing your voice last night, I guess," he says slowly, sheepishly.
Silence comes from the other end of the line for a long moment, and Max pulls the phone away to see if the call was still connected, a sharp thrill of dread coursing through him, but then he hears Adam's voice and presses the phone back to his ear, only just missing what was said. Shit. "What?"
"I said come over, Max," Adam repeats himself. "I can't do much, of course, but we can hang out, strategize on what you can do to get the Triple B back. Maybe play some video games, if you want. Take your mind off of things."
Max blinks, glancing over once more at their tag titles, just visible from his position on the floor. "Really? You'd want to?"
"Of course I want to, Max," Adam says. "It's exactly what I would've said last night if my phone wasn't glitched out and I'd received your call."
Max sniffs, a little horrified to feel tears welling up in his eyes. "Yeah, ok," he finally says, hoping that Adam will pass off the shaky, thick sound of his voice on his having just woke up. "I'll, uh. I'll get a flight out as soon as I can and let you know when to expect me."
"Ok," Adam responds. "Hey, Max?"
"Yeah?"
"It's gonna be ok. One way or another. We'll figure this out."
"Fuck, I hope so," Max mumbles. "I'll see you soon."
"Looking forward to it."
Once they hang up, Max rests his head back against the wall and breathes, thumbing through the menus on his phone again. Pressing a hand against the wall and forcing himself up to his feet once more, he exhales and moves through the hotel room, packing what little he had left laying around.
He pauses in the doorway and takes one last look around, making sure he hadn't left anything behind. Flicking the light off and closing the door behind him, he exhales loudly before making his way down the hall back to the elevators.
I really hope he's right.