So, the truth is out now. Of course people like Damien Priest are skewing it in the worst light possible, but Mike did have good intentions. Especially at first! See, his knee was bad in the first couple of weeks following that zombie match. Like, yeah, zombies, there was legit trauma there, because he'd watched his best friend get dragged down by these things and then he'd felt his knee pop in a really disgusting way, and then they were all on top of him, and he wasn't really sure what they were going to do to him at first, until they just... drifted away.
Then John reappeared and everything seemed ok, except he couldn't put weight down on his leg, and the trainer looked grim and everything just snowballed from there. He truly wasn't allowed to put weight on that leg for awhile. And considering all of the walking it took just to hang out backstage at WWE- those arenas are pretty damn big, you know?- Mike had no clue how any of this was supposed to work.
Then John- sweet, dedicated, loyal to a fault Johnny- went and bought him an honest to god wheelchair. Spent his hard-earned money on it and even redesigned it so it'd fit Mike's aesthetic. Then proceeded to happily wheel him around everywhere he needed to go when he wasn't at home. Now you have to understand, Mike's had a long, long career and yeah, he doesn't wrestle as rough a style as some of the other guys, but still it wears at you, no matter what you do, so when all he has to do is sit there in this chair and let other people take some of the load for awhile, he finds himself leaning into it.
Why let John's money go to waste, right? But, well, his knee gets better. It's like one day it feels like one wrong move and it could all just shatter, then the next, he wakes up and there's no pain, no instability, nothing to show why he'd ever need a wheelchair to begin with. He takes his first few unassisted steps in rehab that day. And yet the wheelchair remains because he likes it, likes John being responsible for him, enjoys using the chair to trip up John's opponents, and just being a general all around nuisance because, seriously, who's gonna touch a dude in a wheelchair?
Then there's Riddle, and Priest starts nosing around again, telling John all of these things like Mike is just using him and whatever else to try to put doubt on their friendship, and ok, yeah, the guilt is a little monstrous that night, but he swallows it down, smiles grimly when John once more goes to push him around in the wheelchair when it's time to leave the arena. Mike feels his truth spiraling in front of his fingers, but Morrison is always there, trying to help, pulling him upright when they screw with his wheelchair and leave him positioned like a turtle unable to right itself, concerned and gentle in a way that makes Mike feel like even lower of a person.
So now we're here. Mike's cleared, as cleared as can be, but he's still sitting in this wheelchair, and he spends the match thinking about the best time to tell John, because it had literally just happened before Raw, when John was preparing for this segment, changing his gear, refilling the Dripsticks, doing some parkour to warm up. You know, the usual. He still remembers the trainer frowning at him while handing over the official paperwork declaring him good to go, eyeing the wheelchair with a suspicious frown, and jesus, yeah, ok, Mike thinks now he deserves everything he gets, but Priest is screwing with him again, swipes out at him and Mike moves, stands up and glowers at Priest, about to fight back- but then he freezes, sees John standing behind Damien, a shocked, dawning look of hurt and betrayal on his face, and oh shit, he knows, in the worst way possible, but Priest is advancing, and Mike can't just stand here, so he does what he always does.
He turns sharply and runs, with the crowd noise barely registering through the wind in his ears as he rushes up the ramp and out of there, leaving it all behind- Priest, Morrison, the chair. He's not sure what happens, exactly, until he stops short in an empty hallway, bending over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. There's a monitor nearby and he straightens up just in time to watch Morrison get downed by Priest once more, and cringes. "Dammit, Johnny," he breathes.
He knows they need to talk, he has so much to explain to his best friend, but there's an itch under his skin as he tests his knee out, still in disbelief that it had healed- that he's good to go again. So many people had speculated, whispering that he's too old to bounce back 100% from this injury, that he had failed at remaining uninjured, that... that... that...
He squares his shoulders, turns to the exit. Tomorrow's another day, he tells himself. "Everything will be fine."
He may see John, he may not, maybe they'll talk it out and maybe John will start avoiding him too. Either way, he'll work it out in his head eventually, and he'll address the WWE Universe on Monday. What will he tell them? Probably not the full truth, that he was needy and simply digging himself in deeper week by week, enjoying the attention John was giving him, but. You know. He has time to figure it out, how best to spin the last couple of months.
Once outside, he walks past their rental car and chooses,for the first time in months, to walk.