"Are you going to Raw?" Taya asks, pressing a sleepy kiss to his cheek. It's mid-morning on Monday and they're still in bed, which should tell her all she needs to know, but he keeps his thoughts to himself, simply turns his head and kisses her back.

"Nah," he says, tunring back to look at the ceiling. "I'll go back when Miz stops being a coward and going everywhere but where I am. We still have to settle all of this."

Taya squeezes him, kisses him again. "Yeah, I don't blame you," she mumbles, nuzzling closer. She'll be leaving for Florida soon, but for now, they can stay here, warm and content in their love for a little while longer. Which they do, Taya giggling and letting out a faint squeal when he grips her and rolls, straddling her and kissing her purposely, humming as she arches up into his touch. "I love you, John," she says, dark eyes glinting in the early morning sun as he grazes his knuckles down her side.

"I love you too," he tells her, and damn, it's one of the most sincere emotions he's ever felt in his entire life. She's been by his side through a lot, and never once wavered. "I love you so much," softer this time, more vulnerable, and she brushes some of the hair out of his face, smiling up at him. When he surges forward and kisses her, she sighs into his mouth and hums, fingers trailing down his spine to come to a rest at his hips. This, here, in their bed, is one of the few times where his mind isn't racing with why, and how, and what exact kind of dumbass would fall for Mike's friendship again after how it'd ended originally back in 2010.

Not, he reminds himself whenever his thoughts spiral this way, that such a long friendship could only be manipulation and gaslighting, right? At some point, Mike had legitimately cared about him, but his self-preservation had just meant more. And it sucks, and it hurts, but hell, on some level, John thinks he understands. Had always known, at least, that it was a pivotal part of Mike's DNA. He was just that determined to get ahead of everyone else. Just sucks that, this time around, John wasn't going to be in his way on anything.

That night, after Taya leaves for the airport, John moves aimlessly around the house. He doesn't want to watch Raw, necessarily, but... that leaves him with only one option and, exhaling roughly, he ends up putting Dancing with the Stars on in the background. He drifts into a meditative pose and lets his mind drift while the show starts, then he half-listens while he tries to stabilize his breathing.

Mike dances fairly early in the show, which puts John out of his misery. His dancing partner is a cheerful blonde woman named Witney, and he sits, dumbfounded, watching as Mike puts out a perfectly respectable chacha. It's almost hard to watch, unused to seeing Mike move like that, John blinking incredulously until it's over. Wow, he thinks, picking at his shorts. Beyond the wrestler, there's oddly an almost smooth dancer underneath. Or at least the building blocks for one. And it seems the judges agree, but John can barely listen to them, because the camera focuses on Mike while the judge's panel goes through their notes on his performance, and Mike is grinning and looks in his element, and...

"This is the most fun I've had in a long time," Mke says and holy shit. Yeah, wrestling hasn't been easy especially with COVID and everything, but it's been them for the last year and a half, and... and, what? He's been that miserable the entire time and John just never noticed?

Trembling slightly, John reaches over and shuts the TV off, missing the scoring and just staring blankly at the dark screen for awhile, still unable to fathom it. Maybe Mike's actions the last few months weren't just out of selfishness... he thinks, closing his eyes and digging his knuckles into his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. Fuck, what did I do?