Mike closes his eyes and leans his face against the wall, breathing in and out deeply. He'd been lost in thought for awhile now, unable to focus on anything else going on around him. John had been here for awhile, then not, and he's unsure where his best friend wandered off to. Clenching his hands into fists, he exhales through his nose and slowly pulls back, his gaze resting on the monitor closest to him, showing Vince in the ring, about to talk, and-
The Fiend comes out, followed by Braun, and- then there's Retribution. Mike feels numb, like he's walking underwater, and he heads slowly through the halls, trying to get his breathing under control, slow, steady inhales and exhales just escaping him. He makes it to the ring, finally, after it's over- John's standing at the ropes, staring down at the retreating members of the masked group and Mike rushes over to him, trying to act like he was a part of ridding the ring of them, like he had anything at all to be proud of here, and lifts his arm towards his best friend, relieved when John gives him a strange look before bumping their arms together.
They walk backstage side by side and John waits until they're in the locker room to cast a quick look over at him. "Hey, Mike, where were you? I know you were there at the end, but I didn't see you at all before that."
Mike swallow. Hard. "Oh, you know," he says, voice highpitched and shaky. "I was around! There was just a lot of activity and things going on, of course you missed me."
John hums. "Right," he murmurs, ultimately deciding to drop it. Mike sags in relief as he turns away from him and begins to sort through his bag. "Looks like neither of us are booked in a match, so I guess the only reason to hang around would be to make sure Retribution doesn't do anything else."
Mike nods, feeling a bit annoyed and frustrated at that- no match tonight, no match at Summerslam. Not that they're alone in being kept off of the card for whatever reason, both intercontinental and tag titles were being competed for tonight, instead of on Sunday. He exhales slowly and sits down, relieved for a moment not to have to dwell on things or indulge John in discourse on Retribution any further. They'd spent many a dark night whispering from their beds about suspicions on who the members could be, and what their agenda ultimately would be, and on and on. He's tired of thinking about them all now.
John spends the night going back and forth from their locker room to catering, to random trips around the arena, working out some tension with his parkour runs. Mike stays where he's at, sipping from whatever drink John brings him, half-watching the show as the time for 205 Live to begin approaches. Things regarding Retribution has mostly calmed down, and he sighs softly, leaning his head back against the couch cushions, closing his eyes for just a moment.
He startles awake not long afterwards to find John staring down at him, a mix of amusement and concern in his dark eyes. "Hey, show's over, time to go back to Zack's," he tells him.
"Oh. Yeah, sure," Mike mutters, getting up and slowly gathering his things. He feels John's stare on his back and pauses, glancing over at him. "What?"
John hesitates, then shrugs. "Are you sure you're ok? You've been acting off most of today."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Mike says, staring back down at his bag. "Just really busy, you know? Cannonball, and Miz and Mrs, and Smackdown... it's a lot, all at once, especially with the pandemic and everything."
John hums. "Well, if you get some time to relax this weekend, take it, man. You've definitely deserved it."
Mike nods. "I will do my best to. Thanks, John."
John claps him on the back and continues on cheerfully, not noticing the shift in Mike's expression as he does.