The hours leading up to the show are quiet. Hook's over on a chair, tapping at his phone, barely paying attention to anything else, leaving Orange to stare out of the hotel window as he tracks various people walking back and forth.
He's frustrated, on the edge in a way he hasn't felt in a long time, not since he'd first lost the International title. Except that time he'd thought there might be a chance he could replace it with something else- the tag titles, maybe, or... His eyes flicker over to Hook for a moment, before he grimaces and looks back outside. Forcing his way back into a friendship isn't as easy as it is to reclaim a title reign, since titles are something to be fought for, but people can't be forced back into something they'd broken apart to begin with.
He stands after a minute and grabs his jacket. "I need some air," he says in Hook's general direction, heading out with his keycard and not much else. The lobby of this place is big, easy to get lost in, and he tries, but then he hears Shane Taylor's voice echoing through some glass doors, and he follows it, watching him as low simmering anger rises up inside of him over what he's been doing the past few weeks- yeah, Hook had helped Shibata, had defeated Shane Taylor just Saturday, but he's not Shibata's only friend, and Orange makes that known, barely even blinking at Shane and Ogogo's promise of violence as he makes his way back through the lobby.
He stops short upon seeing Hook standing there, hands twisted up in the pocket of his hoodie, watching him through his sheen of hair. "C'mon," he says, jerking his head towards the exit. Orange follows him, hands tense within the confines of his own pockets, but they walk quietly through the parking lot for awhile, Hook keeping his gaze on the grass in the distance. They circle the building until they find a picnic table and Hook drops down onto the table, bracing his feet on the bench.
Orange's lips twitch as he settles down next to his leg, his arm pressed against Hook's knee, fingers toeing restlessly with his sneaker.
"I was handling that," Hook says after a moment and Orange squints up at him through his sunglasses. "Shane Taylor. I had Shibata's back."
"I know you do," he says after a moment. "I'm not trying to... discredit your friendship with Shibata, or step on either of your toes. But..." Orange exhales and stares at the clouds drifting overhead. "I need something too. I can help. I'm not useless."
"Never said you were," Hook says, frown growing. "Look, I know that, uh, everything going on is... weighing on you, I get it. But I've got your back too, you know? You're not alone."
"Feels like it sometimes," Orange sighs, noticing out of the corner of his eye when Hook's face falls. "Not your fault," he hastens to try to explain. "I've just... been a Best Friend for a really long time, you know? And now I'm not, and it... it's hard. I'm still trying to figure things out."
Hook nods, searching his face. "I get that," he says, and Orange wonders briefly if he's ever fully shaken off the strangeness of going from being in Team Taz to being alone so suddenly, in such a delicate time in his own growth as a competitor. "If you need me out there," he says, nudging Orange with the toe of his sneaker and letting the offer drift off, unsaid.
"I appreciate that," Orange says. "But you've got this whole drama with your dad and Jericho brewing."
Hook groans, burying his face in his hand for a minute before scraping it through his hair, tugging briefly. "I'd rather be at ringside for you," he mumbles, gaze drifting around before resting once more on Orange's face. "We alright?"
Orange takes a minute. Thinks about everything- his feelings over Chuck, and Trent, Shibata, Hook's off-and-on alliance with Jericho, and everything else that keeps spiraling and bleeding through and making his life so much more complicated than he prefers it to be. It's not Hook's fault, it's just how wrestling tends to go sometimes. "Yeah," he sighs. "We're alright." Seeing the lingering uncertainty on Hook's face, he rests a hand on his ankle and squeezes. "I'm sure. We're fine, Hook."
Hook nods. Hesitates a moment, then slides down to sit next to Orange on the bench. "Good," he says quietly, shoulder to shoulder with him.
They watch the clouds, they listen to people wandering around nearby, living their lives like everything's normal, like Orange's world hasn't been rattled to its core and is still trying to figure out how to get back into some sort of steady orbit without falling apart even worse. Orange exhales after a few minutes and tilts his head to look at Hook, watching him as he turns to meet Orange's gaze. Before he really thinks it through or Hook can question him, Orange leans in and presses a kiss to Hook's lips, content to just hover there, to just be for a few moments, his thoughts fading away in the overwhelming sensation of feeling.
Hook has a small smile on his lips when they finally separate, his fingers curling lazily around Orange's and squeezing, steady and a comfort all at once.
Nothing else might be going easily around them, but yeah. Orange knows he and Hook are just fine.