Years ago, before Mike's life had fully changed, before he'd grown, gotten married, had two children, he had been afraid. Words deeming him a liar branded over his chest, left chained in the dark, only saved when a familiar voice freed him, guided him out to safety, took him back to those who cared about him.
Now, well. Now he holds his children close to his chest, listens to them breathing, and thinks about all of the other fears he's gained since then, more breathtaking, more devastating. The kind of fears that would make a man reflect on how much time he's wasted and how he should make the most of the minutes, the days, the weeks ahead to try to limit how many regrets he may have in the future. To encourage those who matter most to look back and hopefully think fondly of him and all he did for and with them.
He's still sitting in the shadows, lost in thought, when the door opens and soft steps pad close to him, arms wrapping around him, around the children. He turns his head and looks at his wife out of the corner of his eye, some of the angst spiraling around him easing just a little as she leans in, kisses him comfortingly. "I love you," he whispers to her.
She smiles, runs her hands through his hair. "I love you too," she murmurs back, leaning against him and staring fondly down at their children. "All three of you."
He nods, echoes her sentiment wholeheartedly. Hopes that this moment is proof that perhaps he hasn't done as badly with the time he's been given as he fears he has. Rests his head against hers and breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax into it.
A/N: I've written BtB a long, long, long time. One of my favorite moments in this whole long, mess of a series was back in 2013 when Bray Wyatt kidnapped The Miz and chained him up backstage and wrote "LIAR" across his chest. It was a visual that stuck with me for years, and we're approaching the decade mark of that, and it's still fresh in my mind as one of the more WTF moments in all of my years watching wrestling. I was going to write something drastically different for this chapter the very day Bray Wyatt left us, but there was no way I could possibly do an average chapter of the story. Since Thursday evening, I've seen a lot said about how Windham Rotunda loved his family, his children, was a kind and loving, generous man with a great laugh. So this chapter is dedicated to that, to him, and to those of us who loved and will miss Bray. I am right there with you.