John's been here before. That's the thing. Left laying, abandoned on the mat, wondering what the hell exactly happened. He remembers how it felt, the days and weeks following it where he'd turn to say something to Mike just to remember, oh. Right. Yeah, he screwed up, yeah he caused Mike to lose, but they've both done dumb things that cost each other things and said things that hurt each other- it's kind of what happens in the reality of a near thirteen year friendship.

Taya, however, is new to it. She looks tight lipped and pale when he returns home that week, gripping his face and searching his eyes. "Are you ok?" she asks, and he knows she's asking more about mentally than physically.

The odd thing is, in a way, he is. Mike had lied, made him rush to do his bidding for weeks without telling him he was recovered, that he could walk on his own. Mike had tried to take the spotlight from John by demanding a spot on MoistTV- which, ew, that title kind of sickens him now. He has the match on Monday to look forward to, and after that, he's not really sure where his career will go, but for now, he has a goal, he has determination. "Yeah," he says quietly, squeezing her wrists with a soft smile. "I'm good."

She seems unconvinced, still searching his face, so he leans in and kisses her, slow and deep, and she sighs, stroking his chest, easing her arms into his unbuttoned shirt to pull him closer, taking control of the kiss. He makes a pleasant, rumbling kind of noise, and she giggles, drawing him into their apartment where they bypass the coconut water and lettuce wrap she'd set out on the counter for his return, heading right for the bedroom.

He sighs as he hits the mattress and reaches out for her, eyes wide and dark as she hovers over him, kissing him, touching him. "Lemme take care of you," she kisses into his pecs, down his ribs, eyes intent when she glances up at him.

"Yeah," he rasps out, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair, letting out a faint gasp when she scrapes her teeth down his abs. "Yeah, ok. I can do that."

She hums, smiling into his skin, and he settles back to watch, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders when she reaches up and laces her fingers with his nearest hand, squeezing tenderly. "I love you, John," she whispers into his hip and he sighs deeply, needing to hear it. Such a simple affirmation that at least one thing in his life isn't falling apart right now.

"I love you too," he tells her, exhaling slowly as she smiles up at him before returning to imprinting her adoration of him into his skin.

-x

He keeps as busy as he can for the following week. Meets with his old acting coach, who listens to his recent activities- including a little about his failed friendship with Mike, and the man urges him to use it to become a better actor. It's weird advice, he's not sure he can separate himself enough from the situation to use it for acting purposes, but he supposes he can try. Be the bigger man? What does that even mean?

Runs around the beach at hours he knows Mike won't even bother leaving the house, when the moon is still out and the twilight is gentle and quiet, goes exploring with Taya when she has free time, and sits in the sun and the sand and wonders why he's such a gullible guy, or what's so awful about him, that this exact same scenario had happened twice to him. He sighs and closes his eyes, tilting his face up to the sky, wishing he could just... get answers without really needing to interact with Mike.

But he knows he has to, so he flies out to Raw that week, bracing himself the entire flight. Gripping his arm rest so tight his knuckles are white, the flight attendant clearly worried for him as she offers suggestions, probably thinking he's a first time flyer or something along those lines. It almost makes him want to laugh for the first time in a week, but he fears if he does, he'll never stop.

Arriving at Raw is a harrowing experience all of its own. His match with Mike isn't listed on the night's schedule. He frowns and rereads what's planned a few times, trying to make sure he hadn't missed it, before going to find Sonya and Adam. Before he can even open his mouth, Sonya holds a hand up. "I'm sorry, John, we should've contacted you. We've been informed by The MIz that he won't be at Raw tonight. He's requested we respect his privacy, but that he'll be remaining at home this week and your match will have to be rescheduled."

John gapes at her. Tries to make sense of this. "Well, what am I supposed to do tonight?"

She shrugs. "I assume you've looked at the match card for the night, unless something changes, there are a number of guys without a match tonight. Pick one, or take the night off."

He exhales, glances around. Thinks about his acting coach's words, and then... then his eyes rest on Omos. It's a dumb, dumb idea, but... sure, why not. "I'll wrestle Omos."

Sonya looks as shocked as he feels at this sudden declaration. "Well, alright then," she says in a tone that clearly means "Your funeral".

He knows he won't win, it's just something to do, a way to get the itch out from under his skin, at least until he has more concrete answers on what's going on with Mike. So when he rolls out of the ring, having lost, all he can do is sit there, dazed, and stare ahead blankly for a few minute.

Trudging up to his feet, limping backstage and waiting for the trainer, just doesn't feel the same when he doesn't have Mike's voice in his ear, bitching about the injustice of it all, and how they'll get payback in the future, and...

He sighs, leaning forward and pressing his face to the wall. No matter how ok he tries to act, it doesn't change, no matter how often this happens, just how badly he misses his best friend.