Nothing is going well. Mike breathes in and out as deeply as he can, closing his eyes and trying not to completely lose his mind. The mess involving the tag division is bad enough, leaves him gritting his teeth and staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping most nights, but this. This is impossible, this is ridiculous. This is infuriating. He's not sure if it's the years on the indy scene, or if John's finally gotten so laidback that he's forgotten how things operate around here, but one minute Mike is trading jokes back and forth with John about Braun and Bray Wyatt's weird ass puppets, and the next, he finds himself in a match against Braun, losing dreadfully thanks to his tag partner making the challenge for him.
But that wasn't enough, nope. Then John decides to challenge Braun further- for a 2 on 1 match at Backlash for the title. While Mike is sprawled on the mat, barely able to move, or breathe, or think, or much of anything. Just lay there and listen to John's works and shiver. He replays that moment in his mind a lot, John ignoring everything sensible and placing them in this horrible match, putting them at so much risk. With everything going on around them, now definitely doesn't feel like the time to take on more problems.
He squeezes his hands into the sheets as he struggles just to calm his racing thoughts. "Oh come on," he whispers to himself, burying his face in his pillow and trying so hard just to let his muscles relax, close his eyes, get some sleep. Something. Anything.
"Mike?" John mumbles, voice thick with sleep. "Did you say something?"
"No," he says tensely, and that's all it takes, really. John may have lost his mind in the ring earlier, but he still knows Mike, he sits up and squints across at him, frowning. "I'm fine."
"Of course you are," John says, standing up and shuffling over to him. "Wanna talk about it?" He sits on the edge of Mike's bed and somehow this only makes things worse.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mike warns, his voice dark, a little dangerous.
"Mike-"
"i'm still pissed at you!" he exclaims. "Why would you issue that challenge without even running it by me first?! I don't want to face Braun! Not like this! Without warning, without a strategy! John, come on, where is your head at?"
John stares at him, eyes dark and a little muted in the dark. "Mike," he says softly. "Mike-"
Mike stops ranting and focuses on him, jaw tense. "What?!"
"You have to look at it from my POV," he says. "I've been through a lot on the indys, right? Lucha Underground, TNA, everything in between. I've dealt with demons, I've been world champion on a few occasions..." He smiles wanly. "I've done it all with Taya, with PJ Black, and so many other random people over the years. Now I just guess I wanna do it with my best friend." His smile slips. "Did I overstep? Yeah, probably. But, Mike, I saw an opportunity and I grasped it. You know? We could be co-world champions. How amazing would that be?"
Mike stares at him, feeling a weird flood of warmth and ice cold suffering wash over him in waves at these words. "John, the last time you saw an opportunity and tried to grasp it without running it by me first, it got me drafted away from you and nearly destroyed our entire friendship."
John tenses. Brutal and quickly. Both remember that day, when Mike had hugged him tightly for all he was worth and then- struck, hard and brutal, hitting a reality check that had left both of them aching for weeks afterwards. "Mike- It's not the same thing-"
"Not entirely, but enough of it feels the same," Mike admits, his brows furrowing as he stares at his hands. "I just need you to think before you leap ahead and put both of us in these impossible situations without even discussing it with me first, ok?"
John stares at him. "Yeah, Mike. I'll... I'll be better about that. I swear."
Mike hopes, with everything he is, that John sincerely means that.