It all moves quickly. Almost too quickly. But after almost a full week of Max being off the grid, lost somewhere between the Acclaimed getting attacked and probably hyper-focusing on what he'll have to do to succeed in both Full Gear matches, determined not to let down the crowd or Adam himself, all Adam can do is stare at the doctor at his latest check up. "I'm cleared to travel," he repeats.
The doctor nods. "Yes. You've healed well enough from your last surgery that I feel comfortable in saying you can travel. No in-ring work though."
"I'll take it," Adam says, mind already racing with plans and ideas, but first and foremost, what the look on Max's face will be when he arrives at the arena.
When he arrives, it's late- flight delays are even more of a bitch with a busted up ankle- and he realizes the match is on-going. He rushes through security, ignores all of the shocked looks on the faces he passes- thankfully, last he heard, Roddy's not going to be here tonight, so he doesn't have to worry about getting deafened by unending shouts of his name before he gets out there. He maneuvers past the gorilla area and motions to the people in charge of entrances, watching realization dawn on them too before he hears his music for the first time in weeks, breathing quickly through his nose before heading out.
It's slow, frustrating, and he's careful heading down the ramp- won't even take his chances on coming close to wiping out twice on these damn things- and Max meets him halfway, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug, and he fights his own emotions as Max rests his forehead against his and he stares into Max's eyes, wet and wide and so happy to see him.
Turning back to the match, thankfully, they win shortly afterwards and Joe and Max exchange handshakes, Adam feeling relieved but nervous at what this will inevitably lead to but after Joe leaves, it all falls apart. Adam can do nothing but stand there in horror as the Gunns take Max out, using a steel chair to completely demolish his leg. Adam struggles to keep up with the stretcher as the medical staff leads Max off to an ambulance for examination, but when he hears Max begging and yelling for him, he manages to move a little quicker and arrive before they can shut the ambulance doors on his best friend's pleas.
How exactly he plans on upholding the promise he'd just made to Max, he's not sure. If he could walk normally, he would pace, but all he can do is sit in Max's locker room, stare at the various things Max had left behind before the tag match, and try to plan. Try to do something. "God," he mumbles, digging his fingers into his hair and tugging slightly, loosening the ponytail he'd put it in before he'd made his way out what feels like so very long ago now.
It's stupid, he knows his doctor will have a conniption, not to mention anyone else he knows, but he pointedly keeps his phone muted. Breathes in and breathes out as deeply as he can, trying to keep calm. Trying to think of something. Yes, confronting Jay White and refusing to let him win via forfeit was the only thing he could think of, but holy shit, how is he actually going to wrestle while not being able to even put weight on one leg? And he won't have his crutches because they'd be considered an outside weapon, and... He buries his face in his hands and groans. At this rate, maybe it would've been smarter just to let Jay have it by forfeit, but he had promised Max. The thought of disappointing Max, especially after everything Max had done to uphold his various promises to Adam- defending their titles without him, fighting through neck injuries and the stress of agreeing to Joe's conditions just to hold onto them- eats at Adam, leaves him disgusted, grinding his teeth against how impossible every angle of this is seeming.
"I don't know what to do," he breathes out, instinctively grabbing Max's bag and tugging it closer just to find a way to pass the time. He digs through various clothing items, wrestling gear, Max's scarves, he even finds the pink version of his gear and grimaces, moving it aside to search through- Something snags around his finger and he frowns, lifting his hand up to make sure he's not hallucinating. He blinks repeatedly, realizing what exactly this means. "No way," he murmurs, some inkling of a plan beginning to work its way through. "Maybe... Yeah, maybe."
It's a long shot, he still hates every possible outcome of this. Knows he'll probably fail Max, but dammit, he has to try. So he gingerly makes his way to the ring, listens to the announcements, tries not to react too strongly to the smug look on Jay White's face. Then the sound of a siren interrupts everyone and they look up at the screen, shocked to see an ambulance pulling up into the arena parking dock. For a brief shock of a moment, Adam is ecstatic- Max is back! But then he sees how badly the man is limping, how thick the bandages wrapped around his leg is, and his emotions crater into worry and concern for his best friend, ignoring Jay's delighted laughter behind him.
It's not good, Max collapses on the ramp, barely makes it to the ring, but Christ, it's him or Adam, and neither of them are anywhere near 100%... if Max wants to give it a go, well, Adam can't say much.
The match is nerve wracking. As hard as Max fights, oh god, does that man fight- everything that could go wrong does. And Max is fighting desperately, taking risks that Adam can't even believe. The table collapses out from underneath them and Max still dives onto Jay on the floor from the turnbuckle, Adam's eyes wide, jaw dropped at the horrific sound of it. There are other moments that he can barely digest because his mind is spinning, he's just purely overwhelmed by everything going on around him. He wants to keep believing in Max, continues to rile the crowd up to get them to support Max too, but it's so bad, he's so hurt, and Jay knows just what to target. The ring, the title belt, it all backfires because he's too slow, he's too awkward because of the crutches and his damn ankle. He almost costs Max so many times that he reconsiders his vague plans to maybe continue to stay on the road through his recovery to support Max.
Despite it all, despite him, Max finally, thankfully wins. Adam can tell something's wrong, but he's not sure how wrong until he's backstage, fingers laced around Max's. "You squeeze as hard as you need to," he says, Max grimacing at him.
"I don't wanna hurt you-"
"Max," Adam interrupts. "You won't. Just do it, ok?"
Max grits his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes, and he can't look away from Adam's fixed blue eyes even as medical rotates his leg, Max pounding his free hand against the cot as finally his hip is popped back into place. "Jesus," he pants, tears pouring down his face as he digs his nails into Adam's palm.
"I've got you," Adam murmurs to him, ignoring the pain and numbness creeping up his fingers as Max struggles just to catch his breath. "You're ok."
Max hisses out a breath as Adam rests his forehead against the side of Max's face, trying to ground him, support him through the worst of it. Finally his body relaxes, feels a little less like a live wire trembling under Adam's touch, and he sniffs. "So, the scrum?"
"Seriously?" Adam asks, but he knows already that Max wants to make an appearance.
"Yeah, c'mon," he says, forcing himself up into a sitting position.
So, with reluctance from most involved, they go. Adam could've sat this one out (ha) but he stays nearby, torn between affection and guilt as Max works through his emotions right there, in front of the world, still tense from pain and close to the edge emotionally after everything he'd gone through the last few hours. It's a relief when he finally finishes and Tony nods him off, the two of them reuniting at the edge of the room and slowly shuffling through the halls to get to Max's locker room. The place is still a mess from Adam digging through things, looking for some sort of strategy, but Max barely reacts, just drops down onto the leather couch with a bone deep groan and grips one of his scarves in hand, breathing shallowly. "Fuck man," he finally manages.
"Yeah," Adam agrees quietly. "My thoughts exactly."
Their eyes lock and Max smiles up at him, eyes still shiny with tears, fingers clenched from the lingering pain of it all. "I'm glad you were here, baybay," he says.
Adam shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Max, it just felt like I kept ruining everything for you tonight."
"Absolutely not," Max says, his brows furrowing as he shifts. "Come here."
Adam sighs and shuffles over, dropping down next to Max on the couch gingerly after he puts his crutches to the side. They sit for a few minutes, just reflecting over everything, before Max drops an arm over his shoulders and pulls him in close, mindful of both of their injuries.
"Seeing you was like, the best thing that's happened to me in weeks," Max says quietly. "And yeah, the match against Jay was fucked, I knew it would be one way or another. But I appreciate you trying to help me. We're both just too injured for everything to go smoothly. I don't blame you, I know you tried your best."
"I wanted to help you, not give you more things to fight back from," Adam mumbles, pressing his face against Max's neck. "The ring, and the belt, it wasn't meant to go like that. At all. I'm so damn sorry, Max."
"Really, the only thing I have a little bit of a gripe about was the towel," Max says with a huff, lips twitching up sardonically. "I understand why you thought it might be necessary, but I..." He exhales, grimaces. "I was fighting for you as much as for myself, and for you to doubt, even for a second, that I could fight through it, that I could win..." He bites his lip, looks away.
"I'm sorry," Adam says, miserable. "I just didn't want you to get injured worse. I could... I could tell something was wrong, and I didn't want to just stand by and do nothing if I thought I could help." He smooths a hand over Max's side, lightly grazing his hip, and Max exhales shakily.
"I get it. I do. But still. Thank you for not throwing it in for me." He presses in closer to Adam's face, breath warm against his skin.
Adam hums, enjoying the moment, before pulling away slowly to look Max over, still seeing signs of pain in how he's carrying himself, how his eyes are squinting slightly. "Well, I personally think we've hung out here long enough, wanna get packed back up and go to the hotel? I could use some real food, and I'm sure you could too. Something that's more substantial than pickles," he teases.
"Hey, don't knock the pickles," Max says, pointing warningly at him. "They're good fuel."
"Whatever you say," Adam says with a chuckle.
"Alright, let's go." With a bit back groan that Adam still catches, Max slowly makes it to his feet and collects his things, dropping them unceremoniously back into his bag. Once that's done, he turns and scoops up Adam's crutches, holding them out for him as he rallies himself and stands, balancing carefully on his good leg until he's got both crutches in place under his arms.
"Thanks, Max," Adam murmurs, smiling as he limps over to the door and holds it for him. "Ever the gentleman."
"That's me," he chirps back, grin wide and only a little forced.
They head out slowly side by side, and Adam peers at Max out of the corner of his eye. As proud as he is of Max and all he's accomplished, he also can't help but be worried, there's a lot going on, too much stress and too many people aimed right at Max, but one thing he would never do is doubt the man, especially after everything he fought through and succeeded against tonight. He wishes he could do more to help him but, as Max walks over to hold the car door open for him, gaze soft and smile warmer, more sincere this time when he catches Adam's eye, he hopes that maybe this somehow is enough.
For now, it'll have to be.