The Royal Rumble has finally come and gone. The League of Nations did not have a good showing at all. Wade still is unable to compete because of his neck problems, Alberto had lost the US title back to Kalisto, and none of them had done well in the Rumble itself. In fact, Alberto had felt off since taking one of Lesnar's suplexes, gritting his teeth as pain seems to cycle up and down his spine from his neck with each step.
Paige hadn't had a match, and Mike had only been in the rumble for a few minutes, smart enough- though Alberto's loath to admit it- to miss the entire period of time Brock was in the ring, so they're both chatting and looking cheerful enough when Alberto hobbles back to them, feeling like a broken down old man as he struggles to walk through the pain. "Whoa, whoa, what's wrong with you?" Paige demands, gripping his arm and helping him over to the bench while Mike clears off their various things so he can sit down.
"Tweaked something thanks to that perro, Lesnar," he says, breathing heavily through his nose. "My back hurts." He doesn't mention it's hard to pinpoint if it's coming from his neck or back, the sharp pain coming from different places. He's scared, more than he has been in awhile. There have been so many injuries in WWE lately, and for him to be taken out barely three months after returning... "The trainer gave me something for the pain," he mutters. Paige finds it and immediately gives him the recommended dose, handing him a bottle of water. He downs it quickly and glares upwards as Mike claps him on the back.
"Let's get you back to the hotel. Come on." Between Mike and Paige, he and his things are transported safely to his room, Mike all but carrying him over to the bed. He slurs nonsensibly as Mike lays him down, the medicine hitting him hard. There's no way he can wrestle at Raw, but... but... His fingers tense around the mattress and Paige kneels down next to him, brushing her fingers through his dark hair. It feels nice, sends him further into sleep.
The next morning, he wakes up to find Paige asleep on the floor by the bed, Mike sprawled out on the couch on the other side of the room. His neck/spine/back/everything is still killing him but, somehow, waking up not entirely alone makes him feel just a little bit better. A quick shower eases some of the pain and, by the time he leaves the bathroom, the other two are awake and breakfast is waiting, pancakes and fruit, toast and orange juice. He nods thankfully and tucks in, listening to them to discuss this and that.
Raw, thankfully, goes by smoothly enough. Sheamus and Rusev are in a tag match so he and Wade stand on the outside, Alberto trying not to think about how much of an invalid he feels like while he's unable to compete. He'll be examined further next Monday, the trainer promises him before sending him home. He grimaces, not looking forward to explain to Sofia what's going on, but he does it anyway.
To her credit, she takes it very well. Hugs him and promises to help him with whatever he needs, already pulling out ingredients for his favorite meal for supper. He chuckles and watches her as Paige joins him. They stare at each other for a few moments before she clears her throat. "No matter what you need, we're all here for you. Mike, me, Sofia, all of us."
He thinks there's some kind of underlying tension there for her, but he's tired. And he's in pain. And he can't really take anything else right now. So he leans forward and hugs her gingerly. "Gracias, Paige. I think for now I'm going to go rest in my room. Sofia..."
"Si, senor, I will come get you when it's time for dinner," she promises, smiling at him as he nods and walks stiffly to his bedroom.
He sinks into the mattress and stares up at the ceiling, closing his eyes. "Mi hermano, I wish you were here," he sighs, finger frozen over Ricardo's contact information on his phone. But it is in the middle of the night over in India so he refrains, gritting his teeth against the pain and trying to fall asleep to escape it at least for a little while.
