Miz blinks sleepily as his phone rings. Still sleepy after a late night spent with Ciampa, who had insisted on going out to discuss strategy for any other matches they may get against AJ Styles, the last thing he expects is to see Morrison's name flashing on his phone. "Hey," he says groggily, scrubbing at his face as he stares up at the ceiling. "What's up?"
"Hey, Mike," John says, and something in his tone gives Mike pause.
"What's going on? You alright?"
"Not really," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I called so early, just remembered the time differences and everything."
"No big deal, what's going on?" Mike glances over at Ciampa, somehow still deeply asleep in the other bed, and ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
"I got injured," he says, and Mike sinks down to sit on the side of the bathtub. "Nothing too serious, I don't think, but I wanted to let you know before GCW announces it because I've had to drop out of this weekend's event until I get things figured out."
"Alright," Mike says slowly. "You'll let me know hen you know, though, right?"
"Yeah, I definitely will," John says. "Hopefully it's minor, like I'm thinking, but better safe than sorry, you know."
"Absolutely," Mike says, trying to brush off the lingering sense of worry deep in his gut. "I'll see you when I get back to California, ok? Take care of yourself, John."
"I will," he promises. "Ciampa a good roommate?"
mike huffs out a laugh. "How did you know?"
"You only do the 'sneak a phone call to the bathroom' shtick when you're sharing a room," John says, his smirk obvious even in his voice. "And I assumed Ciampa would be the only one who you'd share a room with currently. Unless you secretly have been ok with Logan Paul this whole time," he teases.
"Oh god no," Mike grimaces. "Absolutely not."
John chuckles. "Alright, well, hey, I'll talk to Taya and maybe we can make this a double date or something. You can bring the kids, we'll go to the beach or something."
Mike rolls his eyes. "This is one of your poorest attempts at distracting me from hounding you about your health, John. Going from just us, to a double date, to dragging my kids into it."
"You say that like that'll stop you," John grumbles back.
"What can I say, when it comes to people I care about's health, yeah I can be stubborn." Mike shrugs. "I won't apologize for it either."
"Anyway," John says, choosing to let that go. "I'll let you go get some more sleep. See you later this weekend."
"Yep, see you then. Feel better," he adds uncertainly, not entirely sure what exactly to say.
"Planning on it," John says before hanging up.
Mike sits against the tub for a few more minutes, thinking about what John had said- and not said- before slowly getting to his feet and trudging back towards his bed.
"Everything alright?" Ciampa asks, voice muffled into his pillow.
"I think so," Mike says, burying himself back in his sheets. "Or it will be. G'night."
"G'night," Ciampa mumbles, already sounding like he's drifting back asleep before the word fully leaves his lips.
Mike wishes sleep could find him as easily once more as he stares at the window at the steadily lightening sky visible past the thin drapes. You'd better be alright, John, he thinks before rolling over and punching at his pillow viciously, once more trying to calm down enough to sleep.