A/N: Apologies for the delay! You all get two chapters for the price of one to make up for it!
After spending a whole week dividing his time between media appearances, long flights or bus trips and studying matches to prepare for Extreme Rules, Miz is tired of watching R Truth and John Cena both so he doesn't feel too bad when he skips R Truth kicking Raw off to talk about his opportunity at the upcoming pay per view. Instead, he leans against the wall, half-mesmerized by the glow of the overhead lights against his title belt while Alex searches the nearby catering table to find decent looking food.
They pause and glance at each other when Morrison's music starts playing. After a few moments, Miz shrugs and Alex resumes looking through the food selection as his mentor listens to the muffled Ain't No Make Believe fading away, a grimace on his face. Don't tell me... It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Morrison will pick and pick until Truth, in his infinite wisdom, will put his opportunity on the line and then...
He doesn't realize exactly how far Truth takes it, however, until they're walking back towards Miz's personal locker room, Alex's hands full with plates of food. It's not that far from the gorilla position for once, so when Truth comes rushing through the hall, startling a group of techs, Alex barely has the time to press against the wall to save the food. It all happens so fast Miz doesn't realize at first what's happening nor has time to react, falling back against the wall as Truth slams into him, repeatedly mumbling something that sounds like "He brought it on himself, he caused this, it's all his fault" as he rushes for the exit. Miz barely has the time to notice the strange mix of regret and anger in his eyes before he's gone.
"What the hell was that?" Alex demands, shaken. "Are you alright, Mike?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbles, gazing down the hall with a frown. "Come on," he says, pushing away from the wall. He would like to teach R Truth a lesson for disrespecting the WWE Champion but right now, they have a match to focus on. "So, about Sin Cara..."
Upon returning to the locker room, they find the monitor blank due to a commercial break. While waiting, they strategize about Alex's match against the newly signed Mexican wrestler while picking at the pizza and cheesy breadsticks that Alex had managed to save from Truth's rampage. Their conversation is railroaded, however, when the monitor begins showing the recap of Truth's attack on Morrison. "Oh hell," Miz mumbles, grimacing as Truth blows smoke across a prone John, then flicks the lit cigarette at him. The only thing he hates worse than so-called bad eating habits is smoking. We'll probably never hear the end of this.
There's plenty of time before Alex's match so once they feel comfortable with their plan, they split up- Alex to clear away the trash from the catering, and Miz just to clear his head. It's a flimsy excuse and Mike has no doubts that his former NXT rookie can see right through it but he goes anyway, wandering down hall after hall while keeping an eye out for R Truth just in case.
It's outside of the main locker room that Miz comes across his real target- Morrison is leaning against the wall, blatantly ignoring everyone as they come and go. He doesn't even respond, staring ahead blankly, as Miz walks up to him slowly, glancing around at the scattered superstars and divas, techs and referees. He feels annoyed with them all and isn't sure why. "John?" He kneels down so they're at the same eye level, ignoring the faint smoke smell wafting up from him, and waits patiently as his former tag partner doesn't respond. "John?"
Other than some bruising along the side of his face, he doesn't look injured- sore, maybe, but that's unfortunately the name of the game, they've all learned to work through it. He finally manages to look away from the oddly shaped bruising and glances down, something about Morrison's ringwear catching his eye. He swallows when he realizes what exactly it is- Morrison's new tights, made just for the glitz and glamor of Wrestlemania, has a frayed burn hole at the knee, obviously caused by Truth's cigarette earlier in the evening. "John...?"
"Leave me alone, Mike." The words are quiet, barely hearable, but Miz almost instinctively knows what he said as he leans back, eyes wide. "I don't need your fake pity."
"It's not fake and it's not pity," he protests, eyes narrowing as John mindlessly picks at the hole in his pants, still not looking at him. "I just want to know you're ok, John-" He reaches out, trying to stop him from making the rip in the fabric worse, but gets slapped away for his troubles. "Hey!"
"Did you and Riley laugh when you saw Truth bash me down?" he asks after a few, tense moments, his voice low. Harsh. "Did it make your night? Just another challenger for your belt getting what they deserve, right? Hell, maybe you suggested Truth finish what you started two years ago."
Miz snorts, his lips twisting into a snarl as an unexplainable anger wells up in him. "You really think I'd need Truth to do that? Please, I think I proved I'm more than capable of handling you at the start of the year. Remember that? If I wanted to finish you, I could do it at any time but why bother? It'd just be a waste of my time, John, because you're not in my league and never will be." The instant the words are out, he feels cold and empty, as he stares into Morrison's steely eyes. The words he's said so many times in the past sound foreign, like someone else's saying them. It's different, somehow, saying them face to face with no crowds or cameras around that they're playing up to, more vicious, almost beyond cruel. Oh crap. "I-"
"Shut up," Morrison mumbles, pushing Miz out of his way as he struggles to his feet. "I don't know what it is about the draft, but almost every time one is announced, things go to hell for me. I don't know why I thought this year would be any different. But no matter what happens, what R Truth did tonight- what might happen in the next couple of weeks- nothing will keep me from taking that belt from you."
Miz's jaw drops as he watches Morrison slowly walk away, one hand going to his head as he heads for the exit. "Great going, Mike," he mumbles once John's out of sight.