Mike spends almost a full 24 hours in California before returning to the road for Main Event, John first listening patiently to the latest on the AJ situation, and the new issues with Ricardo and Del Rio, along with his doubts about Alex, and his inability to get anywhere to regain the Intercontinental title. He then turns to distraction by forcing Mike into another of his OOYM workouts, followed by some meditation on the beach, before dragging him out of his apartment for a walk to a nearby local burger place that Mike can never remember the name of because he's not home long enough for it to stick longterm with him for his standard comfort food of cheeseburgers and fries dipped in a milkshake. They're sitting across from each other, John watching people wandering outside of the building, Mike glancing up at him between swipes of his fries through the chocolatey mixture. "Thanks, JoMo," he mumbles after awhile, smiling wanly when his best friend turns his attention back to him.
John looks up and grins at him, eyes gleaming. "Don't mention it, man. I'm your at-home therapist, right? I know what to do to cure what ails you." Mike smiles a bit before turning back to the little of what remains of his food. "No matter how busy I get, you know I'll always be there for you, man. You just need to use those weird things called cell phones sometimes, you know?"
He laughs for real at this, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I know. It's just hard, between our schedules and... it's not like anything changes. It's always the same thing, I do something to screw up, either it being with AJ or Ricardo, and... I know you have your own issues, probably get tired of hearing about mine whenever you see my number on the screen..." Not to mention the doubts that that interview with Morrison from weeks ago had dredged up in him, leaving him wondering just how much bitterness remained due to how their careers had shaked out through the years.
"Well, you were there for me while I was struggling leading up to my release," Morrison says, almost as if reading Mike's mind. "So I'm sure you went through that at times, but you always had my back. I just want to return the favor."
There's no lack of sincerity in his eyes and Mike feels himself relax. "Thanks," he says quietly, turning his attention back to the mostly melted milkshake. "It means a lot to me."
After a few more hours spent sitting on the beach and just catching up, he sinks into the guest bed and finds himself asleep immediately, waking up in time for his flight for the weekly Main Event stuff. Cody Rhodes commentates with him and Josh, and although the third generation superstar does alright, it still leaves him with a nasty taste in the back of his throat that things had gone so south with Ricardo due to this very position. When Del Rio comes up in conversation in the duration of the show, he stays very quiet and only speaks when necessary, unable still to wrap his mind fully around the situation.
That Friday, he's stuck on commentary again, watching as Wade Barrett gets his rematch against Axel, who beats him in a few minutes to retain the Intercontinental title. Mike enters the ring, sneering over at the man, but, even as he works at getting out of his dress clothes, preparing for a fight, Heyman begs Axel off, urging him out of the ring. Aggravated, Miz returns to the back and finds Alex sitting in the locker room, both men watching Smackdown as Mike fixes his clothes up to look acceptable once more.
Del Rio competes against Jericho a little later and Mike reflects on how, a week ago, they'd been tag partners. "This business, huh, kid?" he asks, half-smirking as Alex nods, putting the pieces together himself. The match goes by DQ when Ziggler runs in and attacks Alberto, angering Jericho until he attacks Dolph and leaves him vulnerable for an opportunistic Del Rio and Ricardo to return and, ignoring referees, lay him out further with a harsh enzuigiri kick.
Houseshows that weekend are held in Florida, Alex in Tallahassee while Mike handles things in Daytona Beach. It's a bit of a pain but they both return to Alex's house anyway, needing a bit of time to recharge before they travel together to the Carolinas. Mike arrives first and sits on the steps, absorbing the soft, salty breeze, relieved just to relax for even this little amount of time. He's just dozed off, the warmth urging him on, when Alex pulls up, the car door slamming waking him up. "Hey, kid," he greets him, standing up after a moment.
"Hey," Alex grins. "Been out here long?"
"Nah, maybe an hour." He waits quietly as Alex unlocks the door and moves aside, letting his former pro enter first. "How was your match?"
"Eh, could've been worse. Yours?"
"Same." Mike drops his bag by the couch and slumps down onto it, relieved to sit on something that's not rough concrete. "These split cards are kind of weird, not used to them yet." WWE had recently done away with the brands, instead meshing them all together. Now none of them know until the week of which event they'll be booked on, it proving a challenge for quite a few of them to grow accustomed to.
"Was Heath on your card?" Alex asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and ducking into the living room to toss it to Mike before returning to the kitchen to collect some delivery menus, hungry after the long drive.
"Yeah, but the other two goofs weren't anywhere to be seen."
Alex smirks as he returns, dropping the pile of menus into Mike's lap. "Yeah, because they were at mine."
"As I said," Mike mutters, searching for something that looks appetizing. "Weird."
They mock and tease each other's decisions while choosing something simple and easy to eat, Alex quickly placing the order before joining Mike on the couch, his head flopping against the back of the couch like he's too tired to even hold his neck up any longer. "Hopefully one of us will be able to stay awake long enough to pay the delivery guy," he grins. "S'good to be home, I'm wiped out."
Mike nods, feeling the same. Alex's place always had this comforting kind of ambiance that made sleep really easy, even John had said so when he was here last. Despite all of the sneakers waiting to rain down upon you if you opened the wrong door too hastily. "Yeah..."
Somehow they manage to stay conscious, Alex paying the guy who'd brought the food while Mike sorts it out, handing Alex his chicken sandwich and onion rings, clinging to his own cheeseburger and fries, sans the milkshake this time, as they return to the living room. Both fall asleep after eating most of the food, curled up on opposite ends of the couch, undisturbed by the light left on overhead.
Mike grunts and stretches out, kicking something hard as he swipes in front of his face, trying to stop a light from shining right in his eyes. Sitting up when it doesn't go away, he groggily looks around, confused, and then remembers that he's at Alex's place, the younger man still fast asleep despite his inadvertently knocking his feet off of the couch just a moment ago. Wondering what woke him up, he looks around at the sun shining in the window and... his phone beeps. He groans and, question now answered, reaches out for it.
From WWE, he realizes. This always ends well. Unable to forget what happened the last time they emailed him, he reluctantly opens it and reads it. "Well. That's great." He glances at Alex before groaning and, shutting his phone off, slumps back into the cushions and buries his face in the back of the couch, giving back into his exhaustion which had somehow only grown upon reading that email.
The next few days pass slowly, Mike and Alex spending most of it at his place. Brad Maddox had been the one who'd taken it upon himself to email Mike, alerting him that he was't needed at Raw because the card was already filled up. "We'll have a match for you on this week's Superstars, and will send you the details in a day or two, blahblahblah," he reads it off mockingly as he and Alex settle in on the living room floor to watch the week's Raw. "Jackass."
Alex says little, opening a bag of popcorn and tipping it in Mike's direction, grinning as his mentor's face lights up at the snack. "Go nuts," A-Ri tells him, knowing that popcorn plus Miz always equals kernels all over the floor because of his tendency to throw it during things he doesn't like.
"Oh I will," he sneers, already digging his hands around in the bag for the perfectly sized missiles to send at the TV.
Alex waits until he has let some of his aggression out, gleefully throwing three handfuls at the screen at first sight of Brad Maddox, before clearing his throat during an ad for the app, muting the TV. "Um, Mike, can we talk for a little bit before the show comes back?"
"Sure, kid. What's up?" Mike asks, glancing over at him as he stuffs some popcorn into his mouth.
"Well," he hedges. "I received an email about Superstars as well. As you know, they released Matt Striker last week..." Mike nods, his mouth full, and Alex sucks in a deep, worried breath. "Well... I, um, I'm going to be his replacement on Superstars. It might just be temporary, or not, it's just a try out, but... I just wanted you to know."
Mike stares at him, jaw sagging open with another handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth frozen in midair. "What?" he asks, some of the snack scattering along his lap and the floor between them as he forgets everything else around them. "You... you. What?" He stands and paces away, all interest on Raw itself lost. "You're going to do commentary," he laughs in disgusted horror, spinning back towards him with an unbelievable amount of pain in his icy blue eyes. "Do you know... do you know, I came thisclose to considering you to commentate alongside me at Main Event when I was given the choice but I ultimately went with Ricardo because I thought you wouldn't want to be stuck doing commentary, since I know how badly you want to compete. If I had known- if I had just gone ahead and chose you from the beginning, then- then... maybe none of this would've happened?" His chest heaving, he kicks the couch viciously and glares impotently at the floor, mumbling curses under his breath.
"I didn't know," the former NXT rookie whispers, knowing that it does nothing to fix the situation, unfortunately aware that all of this will only ultimately add to Mike's frustration and guilt. "I'm so sorry, Mike. I didn't know." As Mike continues to pace around, the TV flashing against his skin when he gets too close, all Alex can do is watch him and hope that... eventually... everything works out, gets easier for them all. Hope that Mike can eventually forgive him... and himself, too.