Yeah. Wrestlemania. Well, Mike hadn't forgotten about it, per se, it's just he'd been so focused on Elimination Chamber, and the battle royal for #1 contendership, that everything else had snuck up on him. When Cena took from him, and Mike repaid in kind, it had just reminded him of everything he'd endured the last few years thanks to Cena. How many times he'd been overlooked, undercut, outright ignored. Despite being the one to do all of the media, drop everything at a moment's notice to go film their little movies, and whatever else they needed from him. Hell, he'd almost missed his daughter's birth despite being only a few minutes away at the time because it was a show night. And no, he hadn't complained as much as he could've. It'd been building up through the Intercontinental title back and forth he'd had with Ziggler, then the loss to Dean.
Normally he'd keep it to himself, carry on, but the last couple of weeks had been ridiculous. So he'd gone to Shane, requested time for MizTV. Shane had thought about it, asked who would be the guest, and of course as soon as he'd heard Cena, he'd cleared it.
Mike is disgusted by that too, of course, but it had gotten him what he wanted, so. Cause and effect. He exhales and stands in the ring with Maryse, before introducing Cena to the show. He cuts Cena's mic, he talks until he's finished bleeding himself dry emotionally, and then he stands back and listens while Cena rambles about his typical nonsense. The chorus never changes, it's all the same white noise, year after year after year, and Mike's as sick of it as he is of seeing Cena in the halls when it suits him. Maryse cuts in eventually and lectures Cena about respecting Mike... just to slap him.
Mike grits his teeth when Cena all but laughs at her, and they both quickly bail from the ring when Nikki Bella bounds in and stands side by side with Cena, Maryse huffing and rolling her eyes as Nikki yells at her for touching Cena and calls her a bitch. Mike takes her hand and they leave through the audience, relieved to meet up with Heath and Rhyno backstage. Maryse starts ranting in French, Mike half-heartedly listening as Heath strokes her hair and mumbles comfortingly to her. "Come on, guys," he says, sick of the atmosphere of the arena, and everything going on inside of it. "Let's get out of here."
"Sure," Heath drawls. "We're not booked and nothin' else regardin' the tag division is goin' on so might as well, huh, Man Beast?" Rhyno nods and follows them out quietly.
It's another solemn night spent at the hotel bar, Maryse swirling wine around while Mike, Rhyno and Heath are a bit braver with their choices. "What's that one?" Heath asks once he's on his third drink, squinting up at the shelves before them.
"Evil twin hipster ale," the bartender tells him without turning around, waiting for the next shot to be requested.
"Eh, gimme some'a that. Hell, maybe if I had an evil twin, at least one of us would be worth somethin' in this business," he mumbles, grabbing the drink and downing it. Before he could suggest another, Rhyno's hand rests over his mug. "Aw c'mon!"
"No, I think you've had enough," he says decisively. "You're getting maudelin, and that's all I need to know."
"I ain't meh- may- maudelin," Heath stumbles. "Just sayin' the truth!" But his protests only urge Rhyno to nod at the bartender, who takes the mug away and replaces it with a glass of water that Heath reluctantly sips from while Mike and Maryse finish their drinks slowly. None of them are in great moods, and all Mike wants to go is head up and talk to his wife, but he can't just leave them all down here to flounder alone so he waits until Maryse leans in to pay her part of the bill, Heath and Rhyno following suit, and he does the same, adding in a tip for the bartender who nods in appreciation when he sees it.
Considering how Heath's wavering around, still looking glum and this close to falling over his own shoelaces, Mike's not surprised that Maryse goes with him and Rhyno. It's fine, gives him time alone to call AJ, listen to her talk about her day, and hear all of the soft noises Sara makes as she sleeps. "It's going to be ok, husband," she tells him softly when they're close to hanging up. "I promise."
"I guess I have to believe you then," he jokes gently. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'll call you before my flight home tomorrow."
"Sounds good. See you then," she whispers. "Good night."
"Good night." He presses end, spending a few moments staring at the picture of his family on his phone wallpaper, before putting it down and rolling over, hugging a pillow to his chest. He doesn't sleep right away, lost in thought about everything that happened tonight. Everything that's to come. It feels like they're all staring down a steep cliff, about to fall into the unknown, with no ending in sight.
How most Wrestlemania seasons have started, at least for him. He looks forward to it.