Ricardo's knee is a mess. Swollen as bad as it's ever been, bruised. He can barely put weight on it, biting his lip to not cry out in pain. He beats Alicia home and sinks onto the couch, burying his face in his hands and whimpering weakly. He had taken a few bad landings during his match, which hadn't helped at all, and now... now... He moans pitifully and squints, looking up when his phone rings. He scrambles and grabs it, not bothering to look at the screen before answering, needing anything to distract him from this pain. "Ho- hola?"

"Ricardo?" His heart sinks anew. It's Alberto. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he grits out, fighting against the pain in his chest rivaling the pain in his leg. "What- what do you want, Alberto?"

"I, ah..." Alberto swallows. "I've been reading your tweets, mi hermano. I was wondering... if you would let me help you? Hm? It... I hate to think of you suffering... unable to do what you love... Por favor?"

Ricardo wants to say so much to that, that Alberto would be concerned with his suffering, would want to help, but... it all hurts so much that this time, when the tears come, he lets them. Alberto must hear, must know, because he starts rambling in soft Spanish, trying to comfort him like he used to when Swagger had broken his ankle, when WWE was making him miserable and he'd decided to quit, every other time in the past when Alberto calling him "mi hermano" was something like a lifeline to him, something he could believe in.

He's still sitting there, face ruddy and wet with fresh tears, when he hears a car pull up, the door all but forced open, and he chokes down more tears until Alberto is kneeling in front of him, eyes dark with compassion and worry. "Wh- w... why- why?" he chokes out uselessly, unable to think straight, to spit out what he needs to say the most.

Alberto shakes his head, wraps his arms around Ricardo and holds on carefully. "I don't know, mi hermano. I honestly do not." He holds him as Ricardo cries himself out, everything from the last nine months and longer pouring out of him, leaving Alberto's shirt tear-soaked and wrinkled, Ricardo's fingers digging into the priceless fabric.

"Lo siento," he hisses finally, pulling away and wiping at his eyes. "Your shirt-"

"Don't worry about that," Alberto scoffs, still holding onto Ricardo's trembling hands. "Shirts can be replaced." He looks down at Ricardo's knee and swallows. "This, this is why I came," he says, adjusting the mushy ice pack so he can look better at the discoloration and swelling. "I made you an appointment with the best rehab specialist... He has fixed me up many a time. Let him do the same for you, si?"

Ricardo coughs and wipes at his face some more, grimacing. "When?" he exhales.

"Now."

It's sudden, Ricardo feels awkward, uncomfortable. They drive in silence to the building, and Alberto supports him as he limps inside, the specialist very thorough, very focused. He has a game plan almost from the moment he looks at Ricardo and Ricardo realizes he likes him, especially likes having some sort of plan beyond icing and resting. They're back at the apartment within the hour, Alberto helping Ricardo to the couch and giving him a fresh ice pack and painkillers, stroking his fingers through his hair before taking his leave. He's just at the door when Ricardo finds his words. "Gracias, Alberto," he says, staring at his former best friend.

"My pleasure, Ricardo," Alberto tells him with a small wink before shutting the door behind him.

Ricardo's sleep is calm and deep for once.

When Alicia returns from the latest WWE tour, Ricardo is in the middle of telling her about the rehab specialist, and what Alberto had done, when he notices just how distant her gaze is. He leans closer and smiles at her. "Alicia? Are you in there?"

She jerks back to awareness and gapes at her. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Ricardo. I... I guess I was just lost in thought."

Something's wrong. It's all over her face, in her voice, how she's sitting. He frowns. "Talk to me."

She swallows hard, looks away. "I wasn't lying the other day, when I said I like you a lot, Ricardo, and I'm so happy we live together, and everything..."

"But?" he prompts her, his heart sinking all over again.

"But when WWE brought in the Cruiserweights, I... I started hanging out with Cedric Alexander," she explains. "And he's cute, and he's sweet, and he's funny, and I just..." She groans, burying her face in her hands. "I'm so confused, because I like you, but I like him too, and I don't know what to do!"

Ricardo breathes in and out harshly. Stares at her, his body feeling numb, his brain empty. Not again, he thinks, those damnable tears filling his eyes up once more. "If you like him," he says painfully, "You... you should be with him." She looks up at him, shock all over her face and he swallows. "I'm not going to be the other man, Alicia. And I'm not going to be blindsided by something like this again... we can be friends who live together, I'm... I'm ok with that." He closes his eyes. "If you're not, then I can find another place to live, I just... I can't-"

Her lips are on his, soothing, gentle, and she strokes his hands softly. "Ricardo, listen to me. I need time, ok? I don't know if I just have a small crush on Cedric or what, but I definitely know I don't want to let what we have go so easily either. You were there for me when no one else was, and I will never forget that." She kisses him again and he groans, leaning into her, her fingers brushing at his cheeks, under his eyes, starting to cry too when she feels him tremble. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ricardo."

He holds her, tears silently trekking down his cheeks as flashes of how his relationship with Paige had ended so abruptly, so painfully. Alicia won't do that to me too... right?

He wants to believe that she wouldn't, but he's so uncertain of himself, his own worth, it's hard not to imagine worst case scenarios. Especially when comparing himself against Cedric Alexander...