"Poor baby," AJ clucks, drawing Mike into the bedroom and tucking him in under a pile of sheets and a thin blanket. "It's going to be ok, husband." She settles behind him, strokes his hair gently.
He still feels sick, the tension of everything involving Lashley haunting him through out the week. Not consistently, it comes and goes, but it's still... it's enough. He rests his head on her shoulder and tries to breathe, quells the shaking. When the kids are awake, when he has things to distract him with, he's better, but at night, when things are dark, and quiet, his anxieties return. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe I should've just let Otis keep it. But no, that's stupid. Just because things ended badly doesn't mean he regrets the time he had the title belt. Or all the fun moments he had with Morrison plotting and planning to accomplish that.
AJ has been a godsend through out, supporting him, distracting the kids whenever he gets that vacant look in his eye, trying to soothe him every night like this one. Even suggests a couple of good therapists in case he wants to talk to anyone. But it feels strange, like something he should keep close to his vest. "I will," he promises. "If this doesn't stop soon. I will."
She doesn't look pleased with his answer but opts to let it go, instead curling her fingers around his trembling ones, lifting them to her mouth and lightly kissing them, dark eyes fixed on his. "Mike," she whispers, and he closes his eyes, exhaling a shuddering breath. "Mike."
When they kiss, when she rests her weight on top of him, when he touches her, marveling at every inch of her, for a minute. For a brief respite, things feel normal again.
He feels like himself again.
-x
Shane is in one of his moods again and, despite the week prior, grants Mike a rematch against Lashley. It starts the show off, he comes out frst, John by his side, and he talks. About last week, about his feelings, about everything that comes to mind regarding the Lashley situation. John is mostly silent, a steady pillar of support, like he has been since the ending of the lumberjack match the week prior. Mike is thankful for him, thankful for this starting the night off, since it gives his anxieties less time to claim him. When Lashley makes his first entrance as champion, Mike forces himself to watch. To realize what he's lost, what he... what he might not be able to reclaim here.
Not that he gives up, no. He wrestles the match as best as he can, even with his stomach swirling in discomfort, and how easily Lashley overpowers him at almost every turn. It's the worst thing he's ever experienced, wrestling feeling like this, and he just wants it to end, one way or another, but it seems to last forever... until finally he feels it fade away, once more trapped in Lashley's submission hold and... tapping desperately just to be able to breathe again.
He hits the mat and curls in on himself, failure and sickness claiming him anew, and then John is there, warm and stable, and he leans into his touch as he's helped backstage, John's voice a soft constant in his ear. "Gonna be ok, Mike. Just a bump in the road. We'll figure it out. We have lots of time before Wrestlemania to do something. No worries, man."
He had forgotten about Wrestlemania, briefly, during all fo this. Leans his forehead against John's shoulder, and just tries to breathe as John rubs soothing circles against his shoulders. It's a relief when they make it to the locker room, John pushing the door open and helping Mike to settle on a chair. "Just take a minute," he encourages him. "Catch your breath. It's gonna be alright."
Mike stares at himself in the wall to floor mirror across from him, marveling at the pale, wan looking creature staring back at him. He looks awful.
Short title reign or no, Lashley dominating him at every turn or no, this has to... this has to change. Mike can't let this keep happening. He will be better. Somehow. Someway.