In The Bed You've Made Sleeps The Failure In You Tonight

Rated R Legend Killers Roam


Puppet Strings
"We're all puppets I'm just a puppet who can see the strings."

Forever
codyrhodesfan
Title: Forever
Rated: +18 – language; themes
Summary: Finn has been missing since football practice. Kurt receives an envelope one night, with a naked picture of Finn and a note that says 'pay me what he's worth'. Kurt/Finn SLASH.
Genre: Tragedy

---

"That shade of blue is completely wrong!"

Kurt moved in to see the shade of blue that Finn had applied on the wall – cobalt blue when he had asked for Columbia blue. They were shades apart. Finn had moved slightly, daring not to laugh at the anger that resided onto Kurt's face. Kurt pulled up one of the containers onto the floor and pointed towards the colour. "This is Columbia blue! Cobalt will just greatly constant with the beige of this room."

Finn rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. This was kind of fun and Kurt's bitchiness was kind of cute. Finn had been having a good day. He woke up on his own, with the sunshine still fluttering against his face at 11PM, and their parents weren't home as they went to pick up some supplies they needed for the BBQ they were going to have that evening. Kurt had given him an amazing breakfast mix of eggs, sausage and bacon. He never knew Kurt knew how to cook like that yet it did go with his personality.

Kurt was redecorating the room as he found a sudden aspiration of art for some reason and everything seemed to not go in with the flow. He'd gotten dozens of canvases and was working on a piece as Finn had seen. The piece wasn't quite done as Kurt had only painted the background coating about twice but Kurt had insisted they needed another coating to even it all out.

Kurt had said this will also help his attributes to Glee as art would make him stretch his mind to wonders. Finn realised how desperate Kurt was for expression right then. Even being in the Cheerios wasn't enough to make Kurt feel like he was wanted and seen in the spotlight, but he could be the artist in the bedroom that wasn't entirely his. Finn and Kurt gave up after an hour as they reapplied its original coating on the area that Finn had painted. Then Finn was staring at the incomplete canvas as Kurt touched it. The coat wasn't too textured and was smooth, yet Kurt could still tell it wasn't even and that ticked him off greatly.

His eyes went back to Finn whom was moving towards it, and accidentally hitting the dresser. "Watch it! My Swarovksi figurines!"

"How much do those cost? Looks like glass."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "The swan figurines cost me about $300, the Alina figure cost $275, foals about $380, the rose $225, the rabbit only about $80 and the stallion for...about $400."

"For glass?"

Kurt looked taken back for a moment. "...my Mother loved the figurines. When I was a little kid, she used to move towards the store and say to me that he'd wish my Father would her her just one. Then I asked her why. She said they almost looked magical. Like...they reminded her of Cinderella's glass slipper. They made her believe in dreaming again because they were so pretty and elegant. She said she wanted to make an entire world made out of glass with these figurines, that she wanted to make this wonderful little glass land so she can escape and everything would be okay and she promised she'd take me with her...I guess...I thought that if I bought the figurines, it would just mean...that promise was still there...that she'll take me with her. I like imagining that she's there, somewhere trapped inside the see-through glass..."

Finn was speechless. "I get it. You saved up most of your money for this?"

"Yeah. My Father wouldn't get me them so I have to save up money to get the sets. I've saved up money for most of my life for them and here they are and I still feel her presence around me this way. It made me feel safe, you know?"

He was silent as he looked back at the coating of paint.

He finally went back to work on his painting and Finn stared. The background was coated once last final time in what took Finn only minutes to do. The background coating was an individualized shade of purple. Kurt moved towards him and then pointed towards him, causing little droplets of mulberry purple met with Finn's pale skin. Kurt burst into laughter. Finn was removing splatters of purple with the palm of his hand which did nothing but make the mess stain both his cheek and his hand. "Come on. You can look at yourself in the mirror and wash up. I'll make some sandwiches."

Finn nodded his head. "Yeah, sure."

"To be honest, Finn," Kurt finally began, "mulberry is a gorgeous shade on you."

Finn felt himself flush at Kurt's comment before laughing awkwardly. Kurt noticed the awkwardness as he allowed Finn to move towards the bathroom. He wasn't as hurt as he thought he would as he looked back at the blank mulberry-purple canvas of his. What he wanted to reconstruct collapsed and something entirely different formed in his head, something prettier and more original.

He went downstairs and then chuckled seeing the mulberry jam staring right at him. Just as he was spreading some on the bread, Finn walked in and noticed. "Isn't that the same shade that you coated my face in?"

"Yes," Kurt hummed. "See! You're getting better at telling which shade is which because of me. That hit on the face was beneficial—"

Before Kurt could finish his sentence, Finn had grabbed onto a bit of the mulberry with his fingers and then hit Kurt with his nose. "Hey! I don't do this moisturizing routine just for you to ruin my face! Take it off. Now."

Finn didn't regret it one bit.

He moved towards Kurt and then slowly brushed his finger against Kurt's nose where the jam was. Kurt nearly stopped breathing at the feel of his finger brushing so softly against his. They made strong eye contact for a while. Kurt could feel every breath of Finn against him. He broke the eye contact, feeling his heart beat faster afterwards, finally paying attention to his sweaty palms as he spread the jam against the toast. He cleared his throat. "Mind getting the peanut butter? The reduced fat one, not the other one."

Everything was awkward again.

"Gotcha." He got the can of peanut butter and Kurt made a thin spread of peanut butter against the other slice of toast.

"Dad says that he thinks there's a huge difference between the taste of reduced fat peanut butter and the normal one. He gets both just to shut me up." Kurt had made two good sandwiches and then gave one to Finn, watching him bite into it. "I mean, there isn't a difference at all—"

"Yeah, totally. Just that that one's tastier and much better."

"Finn." Kurt glared at him.

"...did I say something wrong?"

"You're an idiot." Kurt said, jokingly. Finn wasn't the brightest, but that didn't matter. He was Finn. He had his beautiful hair and that glint in his eyes that made every star in the sky envies his existence. He made everything seem a little less ugly around him. He had a smile that made the entire word stop to stare at it for a little while.

Kurt would never tell him that that was why he started off at thinking of art. Finn had this unmistakable, uncatchable beauty and if Kurt could just hold that beauty for a moment, pause, and then recreate something that just had to have a glimmer of that beauty – then that would be the best thing in the world, then he could say that he did something good in his life. They thought he had Glee to leave that mark, but no, this would be much more permanent, much more challenging and much more beautiful. It would be like taking all the songs he'd ever listened to in his life, mold them into colours, and then allow them to glitter with the soft faint touch of Finn on Kurt's bleeding, aching heart.

-------

Kurt had told Finn that he was going to go back to painting soon, the pretty little Columbia blue walls that he wanted to give him that calm atmosphere he hoped to create. But then, Mercedes called Kurt and told him that there was a huge 75% sale and Kurt was gone like the wind, disappearing as fast as lightning. Later on, when he'd gotten home, he realised he had a lot of work to do. He walked inside of the house, flashed a grin at both Carole and Burt, before walking upstairs to work on colouring the walls of the room.

He felt happy and giddy with the glossy bags into his hand. He felt like he made amazing purchases and he couldn't wait to wear a certain adorable cozy-looking sweater. He finally opened the doorway, and stared at the walls. They were already painted a fresh coat of Columbia blue. He saw Finn onto the bed, shades of blue paint splattered against his shirt, eyes half-open as he was tired. Kurt felt weak in the knees, and the bags in his hands suddenly felt heavy. He allowed them to fall, and a smile gleamed across his face.

To Finn, that was the most beautiful thing that Kurt could ever create.

Finn wasn't sure if the feelings were brotherly or if they were something else but he'd never had a brother so he allowed the warm feelings to tackle him on without a problem. "You did a splendid job with this," Kurt finally said breathlessly. He leaned down to pick one of the chocolate-brown bags and produced a pullover. "I got you this. I wasn't sure of your size so I got you a Large. It looks really good too."

Finn looked at it. "I can't put my finger on it but it looks..."

Finn stopped for a moment. "It's that jam purple, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kurt replied with a grin on his face. "You're getting better at this, Hudson."

Finn flashed him back another smile.

For some reason, the calm blue seemed to be vibrant and in life, the glow on Kurt's face made him feel amazing and enlightened. This day ended on a perfect note and he finally allowed himself to stumble onto his bed, saying a 'goodnight' to Finn. When he rolled over, he realised that Finn was already fast asleep. He smiled softly to himself, and closed his eyes – allowing sweet dreams of mulberry purple, cobalt and Columbia blue to overtake his dreams. Blue and purple – the combination of fluffy clouds...and fairytale sparkles, and dreams and Cinderella's glass slippers.

In the middle of the night, Kurt had woken up. He went downstairs and make peanut butter and mulberry jam sandwiches and laughed with himself as if he was having a conversation and the taste was so exotic and dream-like, he felt like he was a fairy in the air and then just as he was about to go to sleep, he found Finn's phone onto the floor. He picked it up and opened it, staring at the notes part of the page. He raced through Finn's shocking collection of quotes before he stopped, eyes widening at one of them which was perfect and the image in his mind had a final colour. He went upstairs and with a brush of his hand – he painted, he painted with the ink of his soul and every brush and every stroke and every little splatter of paint on his clothing – the piece was complete in what five hours was but what he felt like half an hour. He finally realised he was standing for too long before he put the painting at the edge of the room, allowing it to dry and then collapsed in his bed, happy that tomorrow there was no school or he would've been extremely exhausted.

-------------
"Okay, promise me you'll pick me up after football practice," Kurt had told him at Glee.

Now it was three hours later, Mercedes, Tina and him were watching the movie they wanted and Tina got their opinion on that dress that she thought was pretty and Kurt had to admit – it didn't look that good but when he'd seen it on her, it was a must-have. The olive green colour complimented her skin so well that he thought it would be an insult to not encourage her to buy it. "Want a ride, Kurt?" Tina asked.

"Nah, told Finn to pick me up. He should be here soon. I texted him."

Tina had gone off, leaving Kurt alone in a coffee shop that made him feel calm and relaxed in. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon was an astonishing mix and though Kurt wasn't much of a coffee-drinker, just being in a café made him feel like he was in some other far away exotic place for some reason. He finally picked up his phone and called Finn. No answer. He just waited and waited until he felt like he was dead waiting there. He finally looked back at his cell, and called his Father who picked him up in ten minutes as opposed to the three hours that Kurt spent inhaling coffee fumes and looking at vanilla frappes.

"You look really tired," Burt began the conversation.

"Yeah, Finn was supposed to pick me up hours ago. I was alone in a coffee shop. They've got this new cinnamon drink and it smells good. I didn't have much money left on me though so I just sat there smelling it for a good three hours. It hurt my head."

"Three hours? He left you waiting for three hours?"

"Yeah...I guess," Kurt felt hurt at the realization of this. Burt would have to have a talk with Finn later on. But what Kurt and Burt wouldn't know that there wasn't 'later on' wasn't the equivalent of soon. First, he was met with Finn's cell phone on the table. Carole had explained that he came back home, then left off when he got a phone call, saying that he'd be back later since he had to pick up Kurt.

"What happened to picking me up then?" Kurt hated to think that the person that had called Finn was more important to Finn than his own brother. Even if they weren't blood-bound, they were still living with each other. Did that mean nothing to Finn? Should it mean anything to Kurt? They waited for him but when dinner came, Finn wasn't back yet. Kurt ate his tasteless mashed potatoes in silence, no amount of salt made it edible, and the butter made him feel slightly sick. He poked his peas and played with his meat before he actually ate his food.

He walked upstairs later and collapsed. That morning, when Finn wasn't around, he panicked. Carole and Burt were worried. Finn couldn't hide how worrisome he was as well. The blue paint was a constant reminder, making him anxious every time he walked into the room, which was ironic because he painted it to remain calm and serene.

He found an organizer that Rachael had given Finn so that he knew what to practice and when but Finn had used it for much more than so. On the day he disappeared, he simply wrote 'pick up Kurt from mall' and 'make sure Puck gets borrowed DVD back'.

He hadn't looked at his piece since that night. He feared if he looked at his painting now, he would sob and break down into tears. He tried to keep himself calm and reassured. Finn would be back, wouldn't he? Kurt felt his lips quiver and tremble. Lies. Promises broken. Lies. He wouldn't be back, would he? He just felt his heartache drag on endlessly. He thought it was just a crush but apparently, it was something more.

He kept on hearing "are you okay?" from everyone in Glee.

He had been showing Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, Rachael, Brittney and Santana his ideas for the next Glee rehearsal's costumes. He stopped for a minute when he felt something warm and familiar touch his hand and he pulled it out to realise it was the mulberry purple pull-over that Kurt had bought for him. And that was it. He broke down. Got down to his knees and tears ran down his eyes as he brought the thing close to him and this was the closest he'd ever been to Finn in what felt like so long – the smell of the pullover took over Finn's personal scent and cologne. He felt so alone and desperate. The girls collected towards him, wrapping their arms around him, trying to make him stop feeling so tiny but that didn't help. It only made him feel claustrophobic. He wanted to feel Finn's large arms around him instead of their small and delicate ones.

Then he stood up, holding the pullover towards his chest. "I just think it needs a wash." He said, laughing at his own stupidity. They knew that it was Finn's; just from the minute he started crying.

That night, he'd taken it upstairs into the laundry machine and was just about to dunk it but felt like he was giving a part of Finn away, erasing him forever. He finally decided against it and instead, had worn the sweater himself. He looked like he was wearing a dress. He never felt less unfashionable in his life as he curled up towards his bed, smelling the unique scent of Finn, and curling up to it, wanting it to never go away. He slept thinking that Finn would be back soon. He slept on hope.

That morning, the scent faded away – crushing the little hope that Kurt had acquired that morning. All he knew was...

Breakfast probably wouldn't be a mulberry jam and peanut butter sandwich.

That night made him feel extra uncomfortable when he'd walked into the kitchen and seen the bottle of mulberry jam open and in front of him. It took him all the courage not to cry and scream a huge FUCK YOU to the world and he wouldn't really care if his parents were home or not. He picked up the jar with trembling hands and shut it tightly. He felt like he'd accomplished something big, something extraordinary. He could let go, couldn't he? But just as he was moving to put the jam in the fridge, he noticed his foot stuck to something. He looked down and saw little paws of mulberry jam onto the floor.

There was a trail of them in fact. He moved towards the trail which lead to the mailbox. He felt confused for a moment, but then noticed the cream-coloured envelope inside. He reached in slowly with a trembling hand and took it out, staring at it for what felt like hours. He kicked off his shoes and went upstairs. Ran and shut the door towards the bathroom. He slid down the bathroom floor, unable to look at the blue-coloured nightmare that was his room as he tore the envelope.

A photograph fell.

Kurt took it and then bit back an ear-shattering scream. There was not just a picture of Finn but he was naked. Finn was inside the water. His body floating and his face only sticking out from below the water. He looked tormented. His forehead had three deep little red cuts. He looked half-awake, trying not to sleep and drown himself. Struggling to breathe, looking aloof and lost, and begging for mercy with those liquid brown eyes.

Then a note that stated only a few words that made Kurt's heart start beating faster than usual 'pay me what he's worth.'

------

'Pay me what he's worth.'

Kurt hated to be the cliche but Finn was priceless. He'd give Finn everything he had and as much as he could and right now, all he had were a few solid coins from his piggy bank, a leftover $30 from all that shopping and a fast, beating heart. He could as well rip out his heart and give it to the man and it wouldn't have been enough. He thought of all of the things that Finn would be feeling right now, the pain, the suffocation, underwater - trying to breathe before getting surrounded by water again and choking. He felt shaky. Kurt did the only thing he knew how to, he put the $30 bill, tears running down his eyes as he shoved it back to the mailbox, sobbing softly. He had nothing else to give. Then he stopped for a minute. He did have something to give. He wrote a note asking for location first and put it in the envelope. Later at that night, the address was written in a smudgy blue ball pen.

Kurt knew he was stupid for going alone but he didn't want to take anyone with him. He shuffled through towards the dark, murky hallways and then stopped to see hazel eyes staring back. "What do you got for me, kid?"

"Show me Finn first," Kurt demanded.

The man chuckled and told Kurt to follow him. He was led towards another hall that made Kurt's stomach churn. It was so disgusting and messy around here and everything looked and smelled of grease. His eyes were wide in shock when he noticed Finn's silhouette. The naked Finn had cried himself to sleep. He looked exhausted and the marks on his skin made Kurt's stomach churn. There were various burns on his body and blood between his knees that made Kurt's stomach lurch even more greatly. The little cuts onto his face and neck were small but deep. Brown eyes were shut away from the world. His wrists were bloodied but that was probably because he was trying so hard to get out of the cuffs. It suggested that Finn was fighting back at some point.

"Finn!" Kurt bellowed. "Oh my God...you sick bastard!"

"Give me the box, cookie, and we'll let him go."

Kurt's shoulders were shaking. "Why him?"

"He looked pretty," the man offered. "In that purple pullover of his. He made sure he took that off before he came with us. He wore some old sweater and came back down to us. We threatened raping you and he just went insane and said that 'please, let me take his place' and he wanted to text you something too but Jay here kicked him over the head. He's out of his mind. You're his weak spot. It was fun for a while and he's a fighter too but that's what makes raping him so fun, cookie. Seeing him cringe and cry and oh, making him drown, swimming for his life. It was loads of laughter."

Kurt felt his face flush in red from the rage but he wouldn't hit the man. He would just cause them to hit him back and he'd get into this mess again.

"We're relocating so don't bother calling the police or Finny-boy here gets it. Ain't that right, Finn?" Finn showed no sign of movement. Kurt thought he was unconscious.

"We got him to take so much heroin it nearly made him go insane. Isn't that fun? He was so worried about leaving you in the mall that raping him was just an added bonus. He tried to struggle out but couldn't."

Kurt knew he was just making him feel guilty but he could see it all happening before his eyes. He wasn't lying. He was making him feel guilty with the truth of Finn's actions. Kurt had finally given the man the box as tears collecting down his eyes. Finn was starting to stir now and he moaned softly as he felt the other man, which Kurt presumed was Jay, hit him on the shoulder, causing Finn to flinch and groan out in pain.

"Please," Finn said, with shut eyes.

"Your boyfriend is here for you, Finny doll. Cookie here wants to bargain for your release."

Finn's tortured brown eyes met with Kurt's guilt-ridden blue ones. Finn let out a shocked gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing. Kurt gave the man the box, and Kurt suspected him to go on his word but the shackles were removed. "This is what cookie here thinks you're worth, Finny doll," the man said, opening the box. Finn's eyes were full of tears.

"Kurt...your figurines...you...can't!"

Kurt looked down at his feet.

"Those things are damn expensive, aren't they?"

Kurt's eyes were full of tears. "Don't hurt him. Just let him go."

"Jay, escort cookie and Finny doll here out the door."

Finn was speechless as Kurt and him were escorted out towards the doorway by Jay's hands. He wore fingerless gloves and smelled of beer and nicotine. Finn seemed to be in full shock and Kurt wasn't taking it well either. The minute they smelled fresh air seemed to be a miracle. When Jay let go of Finn's form, it seemed impossible for Finn to stand up and Kurt made him hold him as support. Kurt slowly helped Finn get into his car. The first trip they took was to the hospital, where Finn was bandaged up and then stabilized. Kurt could only watch as Finn's face went from tired to completely exhausted but he refused to sleep on that hospital bed. It took him a good two hours to get all the blood-tests running and they told him they'll tell him his results soon. He looked so pale sitting there, and he didn't look like he was fed properly - that or he'd been throwing up a lot of his foods. After they left the hospital and got into the car again, that was when Kurt broke down the second time - crying into his chest, whimpering with tears running down his face. "You look so hurt...I can't stop it...it kills..." Kurt whispered.

"Kurt," Finn said. "You didn't have to give them those figurines."

"They told me to pay them what your worth..." Kurt's voice was soft. "And you're worth so much more than you think, Finn Hudson. You're worth the world to me. My little glass imaginary world. She wants me to be happy and she's in every happy note I sing. She's here right now and I don't want to let go anymore. I can't lose you, Finn...you don't understand...I won't be able to handle it if you were gone. I can't...I won't...I...I..."

Kurt hiccuped back a sob. "I'm crying. These tears. For you..."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Finn's shoulders, burying his head into his neck. Finn did nothing but embrace him as well. Their bodies felt warm against each other, like a silent comfort. "Take the pain away, Kurt...please take the pain away..."

------
Explaining to them would be hard.

The minute they entered the household, Carole nearly broke the dishes she'd been carrying and Burt was staring with shocked eyes. "I got a letter in the mail," Kurt explained, ready to tell the story. "They sent me a picture of Finn and...he was naked...and...then they told me that I should pay them what he's worth to me. Then I asked them for an address so they gave it to me...and I went t-there and they were cooperative for some reason...and then I saw him...like this, and they raped him and it's so wrong...but...but he's here now. We're out of there. Oh thank God, I don't have to look at that disgusting, greasy place again...it...it smells like bad memories, Daddy." He said the last bit with a wobbly voice.

"They hurt me so bad," Finn's voice was strong. "I...I'm here now. I'm going to be okay though. Aren't I?"

They were like two children pleading for their parents to tell them they'd be fine.

Carole stared at them.

"Boy! You could've gotten killed! What didn't you tell me?" Burt asked then his gaze softened. "Kurt, what did you give them?"

Kurt curled his tongue in his lips. "M-my...figurines..."

"But Kurt, you love those!"

"I love my brother, Finn, more," Kurt replied, his voice cracked and Finn felt guilty again for letting him give away those crystal objects that meant the world to Finn. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done...we're here now and the past is behind us. Isn't it?"

Finn didn't reply.

----------

Weeks have passed by since the accident. Kurt had gotten up early one morning and decided to go make himself some coffee before finally showing Finn his masterpiece. He finally looked at it after so long and it was beautiful. It was still beautiful. He walked upstairs, full of eggs and toast. He was just drinking that cup of coffee when he'd heard something - sound of harsh breathing. His heart was accelerating as if he knew something bad was happening without even stopping by to see what. He put down the cup and then he ran towards the sound of the breathing.

"Finn...?"

Kurt walked towards him and then noticed the needle. "Did you...no, no, Finn...you can't be a drug addict...you can't have overdosed o-on heroin...n-n-no...Finn...Finn..."

Finn stared back at him with begging eyes. "I-I-I...they...got me...hooked...and..." Finn tried to take a deep breath. "I know it's not cool but...but..."Kurt wrapped his arms around Finn, desperate not to let go. Somehow it was like him trying to gather around disappearing little butterflies.

"I...it...takes the pain away...it takes the pain away..." he repeated softly.

"Finn...Finn...! You-I-I-I love...I love..."

Finn's eyes shut tightly. He was still trying to hold on to his breathing. Then the needle fell and his breathing stopped. Kurt felt as if his stopped as well at that same exact point. "N-n-no-no..." Kurt was stuttering, staring back down at Finn's body. He can't be dead. He just can't. He was too young and too scarred and he-he-he-he-

He was Finn. He can't die. He just can't.

Kurt kissed Finn's cheek. "I-I-I...love y-you.."

He finally kissed his lips softly. The kiss was cold and dead and unresponsive. Kurt could taste the faint taste of mulberry jam on Finn's lips. Tears collecting in his eyes and small little sad laughs escaped his lips. "This is so fucking wrong...it...no...n-n-no...Finn...F-Finn..."

He scattered Finn's clothing off him, the skin felt like cold art to the skin - he could feel every single emotion as a bitter taste into his mouth. Kurt was breathing heavily. He moved towards his piece of artwork, the one he worked so hard on, and tore it to shreds with razors and strong emotions. He allowed every piece of the beauty he'd created to be destroyed. His eyes staring down at Finn's exposed upper half. Kurt was breathing heavily. Art was lost. Music was lost. He was lost. There was just a dead mass of Kurt's body.

Kurt had turned to stare at Finn's bed and he only noticed one thing - on the top of the bed, he'd found a little canvas that Finn had created, scribbles of mulberry jam - bury me in that sweater you got me so I can have a piece of you with me forever. I don't want to die alone. I'm taking a part of you with me. And the other part's with your Mother... I love you too.

Dead End (1/?)
codyrhodesfan

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Trailer

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DEAD END
Trailer

 

Save all your prayers

I think we lost today

There’s no morning after

No one’s around to blame
I can’t pray for him because even God can’t help him now…I don’t think anyone can.

“How is he?” she asked, staring in concern at her sick son as he slept silently. The first silent sleep in months and all she could remember was him struggling to get to sleep and tossing around in his bed, twitching and shaking, and she tried to force the image out of her head.

“I gave him the shot but I’m not sure if this one might work. Has he had another psychotic episode?”

“Yeah. He brought the knife to Becky’s neck and threatened to kill her.”

Silence engulfed through the room as she ran her hand through her hair and she bit down her always been chewed on and bitten raw lower lip. “From what you know about Randy’s…condition…does he enjoy this?”

“The psychotic episodes?”

She nodded her head, her pressed lips turning into a weak, sad smile that matched her eyes and face.

“We make it so he doesn’t remember the episodes so we don’t know for sure. We’re convinced that this will be better for him.”

“What if it isn’t?!”

“…we’ll just have to wait and see.”

She saw as Randy’s shoulder twitched in his sleep and his body tensed and creased lines formed across his face from frustration but after a while, his face relaxed and his body glowed pale in the darkness of the scientist’s room…

I’m not afraid to bleed

But I won’t do it for you

A star among hypocrites

The melody of our time

Silent eyes, sad smiles, bleeding hearts, lifeless

No words come out of his mouth.

Confusion.

He stood there, trying to piece together what Randy had just told him and most people would’ve told him not to mess with Randy Orton but he won’t let this slip by as he ran towards Randy’s body, taking the smooth collar of his deeply dark green t-shirt and pushing him to the wall, letting his head hit the wall and he heard Randy’s harsh sneer as Randy’s eyes turned into dark solid eyes as he punched John’s chest and both of their hands went to the other’s shoulders, Randy pressing John towards the lockers, as John’s heart started to bleed, staring into Randy’s face.

“Leave me alone.” John suddenly said, tired of the fighting. “Get off me, Randy!”

“No! I won’t!”

“You faggot!”

“Watch your mouth, Cena.”

The nineteen year old boy pushed the sixteen year old Randy Orton away from him.

“You’ll pay,” Randy sneered darkly, his blue eyes stirring with ice, freezing ice. His eyes burning softly with desire, and lust as he stared at John Cena and John’s eyes were open, completely and utterly wide, at what Randy might’ve meant…

So say goodbye to the world

We are the dead that walk the earth
mornings are meant to start a day

No sound of his parents’ screaming.

No feel of the warm sunshine on his skin.

Nothing.

Eyes slowly opened to see the blackness of the room he was trapped in.

Slowly, soft baby blue eyes peered to look at solid cold blue eyes as fear erupted through John’s body.

“O-Orton?”

“I told you I’d make you pay…”

Scream your lungs out

Wait for laughter

You don’t have to wait for ever

Here’s the next disaster!

There’s no day…just an end to life as we know it.

A sound of laughter.

Randy’s hand covered John’s mouth to shuffle his screams as Randy’s hand went to a razor on the bathroom floor, and he felt John move from underneath him as Randy put the razor towards John’s shoulder, letting it glide down, the blood slowly seeping from his shoulder painfully…

“Why…?”

Randy bit down at his own lip as he felt John trying to move from underneath him but unable to. Completely unable to.

“Leave me alone.”

Randy’s hand moved towards John’s neck, wrapping his arm around his throat, restricting oxygen.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, Cena…”

Another whip of the blade.

A scream.

Randy didn’t really care as he let John drop to the ground, shaking and shivering, watching the blood pour from his pores.

What decides when you’ve lost a war

When the first man falls

Or when they’ve erased it all

I don’t remember my childhood; I don’t remember yesterday…I don’t have a life…

“How’s my son?”

“Our patient?”

“Yes, yes. Your patient.”

“We don’t want John to remember the torturing—just like we don’t want Randy to remember this certain psychotic episode so we’re erasing both their memories.”

“What will they remember?”

“Nothing…”

We’re to numb to feel

The downfall starts right here

Hold your breath and swim

Swallowed by life’s tear

I can’t feel anything anymore…

A thirty two year old John Cena stared at a twenty nine year old Randy Orton as Randy made his way to the ring for another taping of the next RAW and all that John can do was stare…

What was pushing him away from Randy?

Better yet, why did he feel so very afraid when he looked at Randy?

He gave a simple smile. A fake smile.

He knew that when he went to his house, he can crawl under his bed and cry himself to sleep.

In times of make believe,

No one really seems to care

Maybe I should care less

Cause I will die too

I have to die…I don’t deserve to live.

Randy’s lips traced down Cody’s as Cody’s breath fell from his mouth as Randy hugged him, pressing their bodies together and in the middle of it, Randy felt a bang of guilt. As if he was cheating on someone…but who? He wasn’t with anyone for what felt like forever. He felt Cody’s breath on his ear—he couldn’t feel anything but the numbness as he moved away from Cody’s grasp.

“No,” he said bluntly.

“But—“

“Cody, stop! You know I can’t do anything with you.”

“But I thought you loved me…”

The softness of his voice made Randy twist his head to see Cody’s pale face and soft turquoise eyes and chapped pink lips.

So say goodbye to the world

We are the dead that walk the earth

Let’s say goodbye to this world.

Nineteen year old John took the razor from the table, the dull razor, the blood—he didn’t know why he had this urge for it. As he let the razor fell through his wrist and it felt so good…felt so good to release the nerves that had been raking through his body…felt so damn good.

He hit his head on the wall, knowing the feeling, so very familiar…

Seeing the blood…

And his heart was exploding his chest, leaning down onto the floor, feeling the wet floor from underneath him, as he let the razor fall from his hand, the blood ran from his wrist, oh so horribly…

Yet he was addicted.

So very addicted.

Scream your lungs out

Wait for laughter

You don’t have to wait for ever

Here’s the next disaster!

I can’t scream. I can’t laugh. My lips are sewed.

Just horrible.

The thirty two year old was moving through the sheets, horrible vivid visions in his head as his head pounded as his eyes slowly opened, sucking in and out, knowing that all those years, his parents had been keeping through this damn secret for years now and now that he knew, he wasn’t sure if he loved Randy anymore. Or even liked him. Anger boiled in his flesh. This was why he was so messed up? This was why he was ruptured so badly?

What will it take for us to realize

The more we provoke,

Winter will come TWICE

It’s like summer will never begin.

Little snowflakes fell from the sky, melted on Randy’s nose as he had gone through what had happened in his head.

He tried to touch John and John flinched as if he was going to hurt him.

Randy’s eyes were burning with horror. He hated himself. He’d kill anyone in a moment. His parents hated him. John’s parents hated him. Why can’t anyone like him? His lip quivered and shook as he ran his hand through his arm, sucking a deep breath.

Save all your prayers

I think we lost today

There’s no morning after

No one’s around to blame

We’re all lost in our own blood.

Randy took John in his arms and he tried to ignore that John was shaking in his arms, John’s eyes were squinting into the darkness of their room as his acid sloshed through his stomach and he can’t really breathe at all as Randy ran his hand through his John’s short hair.

“John, please…”

“Half of my life was screwed because of you. I couldn’t finish high school because of you.”

“It’s not my fault that you repeated the tenth grade three times.”

“I want my life back…”

Scream your lungs out

Wait for laughter

You don’t have to wait for ever

Here’s the next disaster!

Laughter burns in the air of our darkness.

“I’m going back to high school, Randy. I’m going to finish college.”

Randy’s head twisted towards John who already had his luggage close to him, and eyes that were horrified of him.

“If that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t control you, Cena. You don’t have to act like I’m going to hurt you because I’m not!”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

John gave a weak smile and nodded his head. “Everyone just wants to hurt me and I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I’m leaving the WWE.”

“Your life. Not mine.”

John was ready to walk away but Randy stopped him.

“Remember why you’re leaving. You’re leaving because of something that happened. You’re leaving because you don’t know how to move on. You’re weak, Cena.”

No words come out of John’s mouth as he strode away.

“Maybe I don’t know how to be strong…”

Scream your lungs out

Wait for laughter

You don’t have to wait for ever

Here’s the next disaster!

We’re waiting and we can’t wait any longer.

John Cena

“Why do you like controlling me? I’m not your bitch, Orton!”

I’m so cut open I’m choking on my own blood.

Randy Orton

“I’ve spent my entire life hearing that I’m a jerk. It won’t be any different coming from you, Cena.”

Sometimes, you just want to be normal…

I’m not.

Cody Rhodes

“Don’t you love me, Randy?”

I’m just so confused…

Ted DiBiase

“Cody’s like my brother, Randy. If you hurt him, God help you…”

I’d never think Randy…the boy I grew up with…would do anything like this…

There’s no way out.

Just a dead end.


Crazy Train (6/25)
codyrhodesfan

Should I tell the truth?
(the truth that’ll probably break both of us)
Should I lie?
(because you lie about everything and you don’t know who you are anymore anyways)
What can I deny?
(deny that you’re being abused, raped and beaten down?)
What’s the world right now?
(all gray)
Spinning and spinning…
(it doesn’t stop)
I can’t breathe now.
(all suffocating in gray)

__

They walked down the road and they didn’t let the silence engulf them and their words could mean everything as they slipped out of their tongues. “Rhodes, why the hell were you doing? You could’ve killed yourself!”

Cody’s face relaxed and his eyes were staring at John’s face and they didn’t care where they were going anymore because they were still continuing the conversation no matter where they stopped at. “Then it’ll be the second time,” Cody hated lying but it was the only thing he could do right now—lie about it all and he’d been doing that for so long, he was shocked that they were rolling off his tongue so easily.

“You tried killing yourself before?” John asked with confusion and concern and anger in his voice. “Why would you of all people do that, Rhodes? Someone’s been hurting you or something?”

“Just one of those crazy things you do when you cut too deep,” Cody lets the word fall off, each one biting him inside like poison, each one burning hot acid in his throat.

“Why would you cut in the first place?” Cody looked at him and he didn’t know if his lies were going to work and he took a deep breath as he pondered about why and how and what—his head was spinning and he found himself twisting his head to look at John’s again.

“I accidentally let it scrape me in the shower and after that, I just got hooked,” it seemed like a reasonable explanation and he didn’t know if John Cena accepted it or not as he held onto Cody’s shoulder and Cody wanted to flinch from the pain that ate up his entire body but he tried being as normal as possible. “Ted quit Legacy,” the thoughts rushed to him again, like a wave, swallowing him, drowning him, thoughts of now broken Ted.

He tried to shake them out of his head but they were too clear, too painful, too vivid and too colorful and he found himself, thinking and suffocating and choking on those memories and he wanted to escape it all and he twisted his head towards John Cena. “I quit Legacy.”

“Good for you. I always thought you were on the sidelines, maybe now you can get make your own legacy now that you’re on your own.” John replied and his eyes trailing along Cody’s face, cracked and dry face and chapped lips and dull hair and shattered and bloodshot turquoise eyes that screamed pain.

“But I don’t know where to start,” Cody admitted and he knew that he’d always followed what Randy did and he was a follower and he didn’t know how to take care of himself at all and he feared that he can’t.

“Hear what I say, I’ll help you get a head start,” John said, looking over Cody’s too shattered and too cracked and too pained face and Cody’s face lit up like a hopeful child that he’d had someone that cared, even if for a moment. “Since you fancy tag teams…I’ll fight with you.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, Rhodes.” John laughed and he grabbed onto Cody’s wrist, before pulling him towards his hotel and he looked towards the boy with a confused look, “what? I thought that if we’re going to be a tag team, we should at least share the same room. I have to wake you up for training.” He grinned.

“Training?” Cody repeated.

John nodded his head once and clasped on Cody’s hand tightly before pulling him into the hotel room.

Cody realized that it didn’t matter what hotel room he stayed in or the scent of the hotel that had hit his brain with nausea—it was the memories. Memories of Ted falling running towards the lobby with a coffee in one hand and spilling it over himself, memories of Randy impersonating John Cena, with a hat and his shirt and everything, to humor both him and Ted, memories of his late night Ted and him gossiping and dishing over nothing and everything and just anything and he realized that those memories couldn’t be erased.

And they were far away from Cody’s reach.

And he didn’t know if he could fly that high, attempting to reach those memories, without falling and crashing in pain and misery and desolation.

__

i’m lost here
are you lost too?
I’m trapped here
are you scared too?
teddy, i left you the key to my heart
you threw it away
so now we’re both trapped
inside of my forever bleeding heart

__

Ted looked over his shoulder and he was holding a bottle of tonic in one hand and he knew that his finger was circling around the bottle’s entrance and he took a huge gulp of acid and he felt the blood rush to his head and he felt his arteries pulse in protest and he felt his veins threaten to pop out of his body but he didn’t care.

His thoughts were on Randy Orton and Cody Rhodes.

Why was he missing them? Randy deserved this for hurting him and Cody deserved this from accusing him of something he didn’t do and Ted knew that he’d never be Randy’s lackey again and now, the world was unlimited and—Ted can’t see anything but black and white all over as the nausea rolled into his stomach and as the blood bit through his veins and as the oxygen battled to enter his lungs. With Legacy, the world had colors.

The color red was when Randy got angry at him for burrowing his shirts without asking because of the rage that burned into Randy’s eyes. The color blue was when Cody drank from the blue flask that Ted had hated so very much. The color green was of Randy making fun of his favorite green pants, saying that it made him look like a “tree”. The color yellow was when Cody stole his glasses and he had to run around in the hot sun trying to get them back. The color pink was when Cody and him had the same crush on a girl and it’ll all be struck in pink because of Ted (red; blood, rage, love, alcohol) with Cody (white; pure, innocent, little Cody). The color purple was when Ted and Cody end up fighting and gossiping when they were supposed to be asleep.

All the colors.

His thoughts were on Legacy.

Now broken, now shattered Legacy because Ted quit and he took another sip, letting bile rise up in his throat and his heart rate go up so high that Ted thought that the next sip would be his last as he put the bottle down and stared off into the endless darkness he was living in right now.

Ted was red. Edge was black.

Edge hid Ted. Edge was completely and utterly black.

Edge hid Ted’s love, his rage, his blood, and no one can see how the boy was breaking inside.

__

The world only has two colors.
Black and white.
I don’t have a color anymore.
I’m just covered by black.
Can they bite me and shed my skin to find the precious love inside?
I’m just covered.
By black.
And I think it’s rotting me and turning me into black.
I want to hold onto to every piece of love I have.
It’s so hard.
I need you both.
Save me.

__

Randy looked up at the ceiling.

He didn’t like being lonely.

He had let go two of the most important people of his life and he didn’t know why he did that and as he made his way to the Legacy locker room, Ted and Cody’s belongings placed on the bench, Randy sighed in frustration, wanting nothing more than to stop them from doing this.

He wanted them both to stay.

He watched little Cody pick up his things and leave without a word slipping out of his mouth, just hard turquoise eyes filled with pain and agony and misery and as he stepped out, Randy didn’t even bother asking what he’d do now that he quit Legacy and he watched Ted come about a half hour later, grab onto his box and leave as fast as possible, and at the back of his t-shirt it said “Rated R Dream” and Randy tried to make himself feel better by mocking the name.

He looked back up at the ceiling then his eyes are tracing through the room and he realized that—

He was trapped in this misery that suffocating him whole.

__

They made me feel whole.
(I’m complete with them)
Now that both of them are gone…
(forever)
I’m empty.
Completely hollow on the inside.
Fill me up with love and blood.
Because I’ve lost life.
I’m so dead on the inside.

(can you see the shattered boy in the mirror? I think it’s me)

__

Edge watched as Ted blacked out from the excessive tonic and alcohol in his hands. The window was shattered, completely shattered, pieces on the floor and Ted’s knuckles were bloodied and cut in various areas and Edge smiled because this was going all to plan and he’d soon be winning the title for the world tag team championship along with Ted DiBiase.

Edge grabbed onto Ted’s water bottle and filled it with the remains of Ted’s whiskey bottle and throwing it in Ted’s bag and he knew that Ted will drink his water bottle and he’d be completely unaware of the amount of whiskey Edge placed in it and they’d win.

That was what Edge liked to hear.

They’d win.

__

You’re so blind of deception, Teddy.
(I don’t want to be alone anymore)

__

The ring was all brightened up by a bright blue light.

Cody hadn’t been in the ring since his suicide attempt and he felt like a child facing school again after summer vacation, nervous, tedious and just wanted it to be over with but half of him was excited and jumping around because he was with John Cena of all people and at the same time, acid knots tightened in his stomach and haunting blue strikes of lightening burn up in Cody’s mind as he stared at the ring. John’s theme song played and blared through the speakers and Cody wanted to run off at the sudden surge of loud music but he didn’t.

John went in the ring first and he had Cody right behind him and they were staring at the ring and they knew they have to face it sooner or later, whether they like it or not and John gave Cody an encouraging look as Cody slowly nodded his head at the look in his eyes.

Lillian Garcia’s high pitched, annoying sound filled the thick atmosphere that hung around John and Cody as people looked in shock and surprise at the mixture of two different people standing close by, as a tag team of everything. “Please welcome the challengers, weighing at a combined weight of 459, the team of John Cena and Cody Rhode!”

Soon afterwards, they were staring at two people stepping out of the opposite side of the arena. “And the opponents, weighing at a combined weight of 488, the team of Ted DiBiase and Edge!” Ted and Edge had their own outfit now and John took in all the detail at once, black sleeveless shirts with ‘Rated R Dream’ dripping in white, black pants and boots and they even had their own theme song. A mixture of metal and rock ripped through the stage.

At the sight of his old tag team partner, Cody’s acidy knots got harsher and more painful and he ended up looking down because out of everything he didn’t want to face Ted and not after what happened and he looked back up, to stare straight into their eyes. John stepped out of the ring, holding onto the ropes, Edge watched as Ted stayed by the ropes before he charged towards Cody, into a spear. Cody crashed towards the floor, with Edge on top of him and pain ripped and he knew that he should’ve waited until his injuries from his suicide attempt heal because he was now burning up pain.

Cody attempted to punch Edge off of him and successful, he gave Edge a punch in the gut then clutched to his own stomach. Cody ran over towards John and he watched as John slipped into the ring, looking deadly at an overexcited Edge before grabbing onto his shoulders and pushing him towards the ropes and as Edge smirked, his plan was coming to motion and he was seeing it right in front of him.

Ted stepped in the ring and Edge descended, staring as John charged a drunken Ted to the floor and Ted held onto John’s shoulder and wrenching it and letting John fall down towards him and Ted let out a dark laugh as he took John’s arms tightly and he lifted him so that they were face to face and Ted’s hands moved to John’s shoulders and Ted rolled down, sending John to the other side of the ring, hitting the metal and as Ted ran over, he grabbed onto an unconscious John and brought him at the center of the ring, laughing his bubbly laugh, he pinned him.

“1…”

John Cena slowly opened his eyes.

“2…”

John realized what was going on…

“3…”

It was too late as he heard the “Rated R Dream” music blaring out and Ted standing him and Edge hugging him and giving a smirking look towards John and John tried to register the words he was hearing “who knew DiBiase can be like this?” and “did John Cena get pinned by Ted DiBiase?” before Cody knelt by his side, holding onto John’s hand and helping him get up as the dizziness over washed him.

“Your new tag team champions: Ted DiBiase and Edge!”

Backstage, Randy was staring at the match, replayed it over and over in his head—his Ted was teaming with Edge liked he did, and his Cody was teaming up with none other than John Cena—they didn’t need him anymore.

Randy didn’t know if he needed himself anymore.

__

The Rated R Nightmare wins.
So typically.
And you still lay in bed, with nightmares in your head about it all and you wonder if you should take the phone and call 911 to find yourself because you’re no longer who you really are.
(Ted DiBiase)
You think that’s who you are as you watch the rerun of the tape.
(You want to apologize to John Cena)
But he had it coming, didn’t he?
You spend the night, shaking and shivering, almost crying, filled up with acid and alcohol, you think you’re burning up.
(Burn to life, Teddy)



Broken Brown Eyes (1/1)
codyrhodesfan

Title: Broken Brown Eyes
Rated: +18 - language, drugs, violence, blood, gore, themes
Summary: Those broken brown eyes look into the green eyes and they know that if this night is going to end one way; with broken dreams and unsaid words and too much pain. Jeff/Punk.
Genre: Horror
Author's Note: For theskyeskye and mine's fic trade. She'd written my Punk/Jeff so I'm writing her hers, I hope that you like it, sweetheart!

__

sunday; nightmare of a party

__

Punk had always hated parties.

But this time, as he'd run his fingers through the rough cotton of the cuff of his black t-shirt, he was looking forward to this party and he felt so happy and eager to go, knowing that Jeff Hardy wasn't going to show up and he just wanted to be in a party without seeing him encouraging everyone else to get wasted and he was told that there wouldn't be too much alcohol so he wouldn't be having such a temper and-and- who was he kidding? He didn't want this and he knew it as well as anyone did that he just wanted to stay home and crawl under his bed and die there because he was slightly petrified of that house, that house that he was going to party in, from the sheer thought of alcohol and the squeaky sounds when his feet would move and the hot breaths that he'd always feel on his neck.

Those hot breaths...

They'd always send shivers down his spine and he turned around towards the mirror, staring at the person inside of him and God, he'd sworn that he'd seen a stranger there inside of him and God, he was so damn tired, so fucking tired as his head pressed to his shoulder and he was already wishing the night was over even if he didn't move from his position and he felt too frozen in his position as his stomach was sloshing acid knots and his head was burning with pain and twisting with agony but he still walked out towards his car, and the scent of his car only smothered his nose, only made him feel as if he was drowning and choking in the ocean of his own scent as he started his car and it took longer than an hour for him to finally stop at the house.

His head was pounding and his heart was already exploding and he didn't know how to stop the fear from striking his heart as terror ate him whole and he was frozen in place and God, he wanted to turn back right now.

Unshed tears were pooling in his eyes. He was so petrified of this house.

Scared.

So very scared.

The black cloth of his t-shirt was infusing with the darkness that consumed him.

Even with the lights and the scent of alcoholic punch, too much alcohol as he'd expected from them, too much pain to see them all waste their lives away, shoving acidic alcohol down their throats and he'd sit down and he'd remember that he was doing this for his brother but then, as he looked at the mirror, the mirror that was right in front of him, he'd seen himself again - such a stranger, with all the fear that built in his eyes and he twisted his head as soon as he'd realized how much terror was lapping in his eyes as he'd taken a cool swig of his Pepsi but when he'd looked back, there was a tan body, with green eyes and purple and blue dyed brown hair and-

Jeff Hardy.

He twisted his head, trying to forget about it and when he opened one eye, Jeff was gone.

But there was hot breath on his neck and when he looked down, there he was, Jeff Hardy, with his soft green eyes and his sweaty hair and Punk pushed him off, "what the hell are you doing here?" he hissed under his breath, "this is my brother's private party!"

"Don't you wear a color other than black?" Jeff asked, running his hand through the smooth muscle of Punk's neck, and he kissed it, making Punk cringe away, with wide and confused green eyes, Jeff walked in close towards Punk, making Punk shake his head.

"I know everything about you, Punky. I know that you love me."

Punk stares at him, completely and utterly confused. "I fucking hate you, Jeff."

"No, you don't! You love me!"

Punk looks away towards the mirror and he sees that his reflection is there but Jeff...Jeff has no reflection and it's scaring the hell of him and when he looks back towards the positon of where Jeff had stod, he's gone and Punk's body shakes. "Jeff?!"

Punk's brother, Mike, walked over to him with a plastered pale concerned face, "you need to lie down, Punk."

"Jeff..."

Mike had led him towards a room and had made him lie down onto the bed and Mike kissed his brother's forehead while Punk froze from the emptiness that burned and ignited inside of his body so furiously and his heart was bleeding so badly that he was choking on his own blood and he stared into Mike's body as he descended the room and the room was black and dull with pain and agony and he covered a thin, white sheet and the room...the colors that were fading off into the colors, black and dullnes and gray...

"Jeff?"

The echo had struck electricity through Punk's body.

"Jeff?! Where the hell are you?"

And as he turned around, two hands wrapped around Punk's body; Jeff's.

He heard the sound of screaming and Jeff gripped his hands tighter on Punk's body and Punk had registered the sound of the scream, following by streetching metal, tires rolling, so loud, so painful to hear...

The scream only turned louder.

"W-where were you?" Punk asked, feeling Jeff run his finger through the bone of his hip, and it sent a shiver down Punk's spine as he wrapped his arms around Jeff's neck, both of their bodies pressing against each other, the sweat making them cling to each other, making them two pieces fit into one and the feel of Punk's hot breath on Jeff's face-

Tires rolling.

Screetching metal.

So damn loud.

The sound of a scream.

So fucking haunting.

"You know what color you look best in, Punk?" Jeff asked, holding the hem of Punk's black t-shirt and he tore it off in one movement, causing Punk to grip tighter on Jeff's body, the exposed flesh of his chest was pressing against the thick sweaty cloth of Jeff and God, it was so hard to let go, two bodies that were fit together into two pieces of a puzzle and Punk found it hard to let go even if he wanted to as Jeff ran his hand at the back of Punk's flesh and Jeff's fingers dug into Punk's flesh, making Punk groan in pain and that was music, sweet, lullablies, to Jeff's ear.

So damn beautiful.

"I don't want to be some fucking hook up. I want you to remember me." Jeff's thick voice was burning with ferocity.

Before Punk can ask what was he doing, Jeff's fingernails deepened and they ran down Punk's back, drawing blood in a few, deep streaks that was hurting him so bad, making him suffer from the languish that was overtaking him.

"I like you in black." Jeff said as he kissed Punk's bare, sweaty shoulder. It tasted so good.

So addictive...

"But I love you in red."

And before Punk can comprehed those words, Jeff's fingernails had dug out of Punk's back and he bit through the flesh of his shoulder, blood was seeping in Jeff's mouth and it tasted too sweet, too freaking sweet.

"I want you to fucking dream of my face. I want you to remember me."

The music that was roaming downstairs was almost inaudible as Jeff bit through Punk's ear, making him groan and when Jeff bit harder, Punk screamed and that was the sound he wanted to hear.

"You did this to me."

Punk looked around.

This house...

This house was...

Haunted.

The look in Jeff's eyes was pure horror.

"Jeff, stop! You wouldn't really do this in real life! It's this house. It's haunted or something or-"

"You don't know what's happenened in this room, did you?"

Punk looked around and whe Jeff flickered the lights on, Punk's heart was bleeding too hard for him to be alive as he registered in the blood that was all around the walls, and seeing all that blood had made nausea overtake Punk's body as Jeff kissed Punk's sweaty face.

The place was sweaty and dull and small.

But Jeff's body was almost cold now.

It was getting colder and colder for him.

And Punk was clinging to him, wanting to feel warm, even for a moment.

"Why are you so broken?" Jeff whispered, kissing Punk's ear.

"I'm not!"

"Punk, Punk, please...listen to me, I know what's hidden underneath that flesh and blood...I know who you really are!" Jeff exclaimed.

"No, you don't!"

Punk flipped his phone and he tried to as Jeff wrapped his arms around Punk's waist, biting near that straight edge tattoo of his and Punk pressed his lips towards Punk's stomach, feeling the fire that iginited underneath the flesh, "Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Come pick up your fucking brother!"

Matt started sobbing and sniffing, "you jerk! You bastard!"

"W-what did I do?"

"Jeff...Jeff died."

"That's impossible!" Punk exclaimed. "He's right in front of me-"

"He got into a car crash and I took him into a room...he wouldn't stop bleeding...he bled everywhere in this one room I stopped in, I think it's your brother's house I stopped in and he just died right there on the spot. J-J-Jeff...."

Punk shut the phone and looked at Jeff. "A-are you dead?"

The thought terrified him.

This house...

This house was...

Haunted.

Jeff's spirit in this body, a corpse was kissing him, a corpse was touching him, a ghost and that sent a shiver down Punk's spine as he tried to get away but Jeff's hands wrapped around Punk's waist and kissed Punk's ear, soft and sweet.

"Do you want to go home to your empty house, Punk?"

Punk shook his head.

"Make me love you. Make me make you mine."

Punk nodded his head, but he felt so confused. He was just so tired as Jeff discarded all of their clothing, both of their bodies touching each other, and Punk stared into Jeff's eyes as he tried to speak, "I died...and I went back to this life just because I loved you...and nothing can break true love apart, can it?"

"I don't love you..." Punk whispered.

"You will, baby. You will one day."

Jeff's finger went towards Punk's cock, digging into it and the pleasure was real and that shocked Punk as Jeff added another finger, a third one, making a shiver of pleasure run past Punk's spine as Jeff's other hand went to his stomach, where fingernails would just draw blood from Punk's stomach and without warning, Jeff slipped into Punk, making Punk cry out in pain and pleasure as Jeff's fingernails just scratched against the flesh, so much blood...

So lovely.

"I love your blood, Punk...I love you..."

"You're-you're gonna kill me if-"

"Why do you think I'm making you bleed, Punky? I need you to die..."

And before Punk can say another few words, Jeff's finger went back to scratching so deep and so fast that flesh was tearing and Punk found it hard to stay awake as Jeff whispered those words into Punk's ear, knowing that they had eternity left, "hush, child, don't make a sound."


Crazy Train (5/25)
codyrhodesfan

Chapter 4
Train Phobia

Life's a bitter shame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train


Memories of you and him
Memories of
(black and blue, Dustin, I’m all pained and crushing down and worn out, all of me) and (yellow and red, you’re all colorful and sweet and candy coated, all of you)
You’ve always been black and blue
Bruises and coldness and nightmares
In the playground that’s supposedly made of dreams
And now, it’s killing you on the inside
Knowing that he’s all yellow and red
Sunshine and love and lilies
Sunshine dust that makes him fly
You just watch, dreaming, wanting, believing
And Dustin just doesn’t think you’re worthy enough
Because he broke your dreams
He’s made you fear what you want
He’s made you break your childish beliefs because he doesn’t believe in them as much as you do
(I’m hurt, Dustin, I’m so very hurt because of you)
(Why do you care that you’re hurt? No one else seems to care)
(Please, Dustin—please—)
Your words are suffocated by his yellow sunshine dusk and his red love and his orange and red and yellow lilies and you don’t know how to handle it anymore but it hurts when he shoves it down your throat
”Dustin, I-I’m dying inside”
”Be dead”
And you just want to cry
Because all of your dreams
All of your heart
All of you
Is bleeding, shattered and dead and no one really knows.


The phone’s ringing and ringing and ringing and Cody answers it with shaking hands, a pale face, and two wide turquoise eyes that seem to shine even in the black dark and he just doesn’t know how dull they are and he doesn’t even care anymore now that no one really cared.

“Randy?”

“No, Cody.”

It’s Ted and Cody just wants to hold him and hug him and tell him that he’s sorry and that it’s all Dustin’s fault but it’s not because Dustin’s always right and he’s just saying the truth that Cody’s always been denying inside and that’s all it ever is and he can almost see Ted’s eyes swell and well and burn up with the pain that Cody’s seen and felt and he just wants it all to be better.

Dreams are something that Cody Rhodes had never seen in a long time and he doesn’t think he’ll see them again because he’s just so scarred on the inside.

“Oh, you.”

His voice’s dipped with venom and it hurts Cody even if he knows that he deserves it and he can feel the tears burn up in his eyes as he grips onto the phone, as tight as ever.

“I’m sorry, Ted. Really. We really miss you. Even if Randy doesn’t show it, I’m sure he—“

“Shut the hell up.”

Cody’s eyes threaten to pop out of his sockets and he knows that the only person with that much venom in his voice’s Dustin and he stares at a sleeping Randy and he thinks that Randy will be like Dustin and Ted and he fears that they’ll like breaking him like now.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Rhodes but you’ve been like this to me, why should I be any kind to you? It’s just cruel to be kind now.”

Silence passes through the room and engulfs the Rhodes boy into nothing and he feels himself getting swallowed whole as he waits for Ted to say something because he can’t protest and he knows that he’s been cruel to Ted and that he deserves every bit of this.

“I just wanted to call to tell you that I have a new tag team partner. Edge.”

The silence still sinks into Cody as he tries to find his voice and he knows how cunning Edge is and he just wants to get these thoughts straight but the only thing that falls out of his mouth is “please, come back” and it was so soft and so quiet that he doesn’t think that Ted hears it.

“I won’t come back if you’re still in Legacy,” Cody feels the phone shake and he knows that he’s shaking from the knowledge of what he has to do and he knows that he’ll miss Randy and he shuts the phone with last thoughts of Ted’s voice, so cold and so filled with venom, that’s not the Ted he knows.

When Randy wakes up, Cody still has circles and circles standing in his head from dizziness and memories are spiraling through his head, of Dustin, and he stares down and he doesn’t know how to stop the dizziness or the sudden nausea that’s rolling through his stomach. “Cody?”

Cody looks up and nothing spills out of his mouth and he looks down at his feet and the painful words are barely falling out of his mouth “I quit.”

“Quit?” Randy steps back and stares at Cody’s broken eyes and he doesn’t know what else to think or say or anything as he stands, just staring at those eyes and trying to put the words together. “You want to quit Legacy?”

“Ted quit.” Cody says, in a bitter voice, remembering the heart wrenching conversation and he tries not to think of it but it’s spiraling through his head and it’s sticking to his brain, like a fork to his brain and he doesn’t know how to rid of it. “I quit, too.”

“Cody, then what’ll happen to Legacy?”

Hate Legacy.”

“I hate Legacy.”

Hate Ted.”

“I hate Ted.”

Hate Randy.”

“I hate you, Randy.”

And Randy steps back with pain in his eyes and he looks down at his feet and every soft word’s still a knife to the heart and he doesn’t know how such a soft, broken voice can rip through him so harshly and Cody doesn’t want to open his mouth again and say anymore words because everything—just everything—hurts now. His head’s exploding and his throat’s so dry and his eyes are threatening to pop out of his head and his heart’s zapped by his own electricity and his blood’s so hot it’s burning through his so cracked and so dead flesh.

Randy’s face turns rigid and cold and there’s ice in his veins. He turns around and he doesn’t say another word because the pain inside of him is eating him whole and just before he steps out, he looks behind his shoulder, “Cody, don’t try killing yourself after this.”

You’re heart pumping gasoline. It burns.

Cody nods his head once and doesn’t say another word and he stares at Randy’s baby blue eyes. And he feels his heart break just by staring at those little shattered eyes.


Quench your thirst with sweet gasoline
You just don’t know
That it’s burning you
All of you
Until there’s nothing left
But tears and blood and acid
Rushing through your throat
Burning into your pores
Alcohol and tears
You’re sure you’re dead


Ted looked at the grim white paper in his hands.

It was instructions for the match today.

And his hands were frozen and his eyes were threatening to roll back into his head and he didn’t know if he knew all the moves and he didn’t know who he’ll hurt doing this and he knew that Randy will be so betrayed looking at him and he bit his lower lip and wished that someone would help him.

The lingering taste of alcohol burned up with the sweat that was falling, clustered in his hairline, running down like broken tears and Ted looked up in the sky, wanting someone to help him and he didn’t know if God can listen to his silent pleas as he looked down at the floor of nothingness.

“God if you can listen,” he looked down at his feet. “Then don’t make me do this…don’t make me hurt them!”

His words were filled with sorrow and he knew he should’ve never quit and it was never the Rated R Dream.

It was the Rated R Nightmare.

“I don’t want to be in this nightmare anymore…”


You’re on the edge
and falling off
and you know that you should’ve never fallen
if you’d stayed in place
with those little boys that are always smiling so brokenly at you
you should’ve known better
they’ve always looked up at you
now, you’ll be happy if you’re
ALIVE
after you fall


Cody stepped towards the subway.

He was waiting for the train and his face was cracked and it was so late at night that no one was around and he knew that he couldn’t stay at the same hotel as Randy anymore and he waited until he heard the screeching of the train and he felt two hands push him towards the rail.

Cody whipped his head to look at the dark eyes of Dustin and Cody didn’t know what was going on as Dustin pinned him down onto the rail and laughed and laughed. “Who’ll save you now?” and Cody heard the sound of screeching and fear buckled him whole as he saw the bright light—the bright light of Randy’s flashlight—“Randy! Ted!” he screamed, his sound so weak but he tried to make it as loud as possible.

His head spun with fiery and his eyes wanted to roll back in his head from the excessive light and he braced for the pain that was going to kill him and when he felt the quick train’s steep little tracks push into him and mash half of his body into nothingness, he also felt two hands grab onto his body and looked at him with confusion and it took a while for Cody to make out who it was.

It was John Cena.


Can I trust you, John?
(trust is something I’ve lost)
Should I tell you lies?
(it’s all I ever seem to be. All lies)
What should I do
When everyone knows that I’m fully dead on the inside?
(I’m dead and can you see it?)
And when everyone knows that I’m dying
And no one can save me?
(No one knows.
No one cares.)



Spend the Night (1/1)
codyrhodesfan
( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

Tonight, You Shatter (12/?)
codyrhodesfan

__

No Way Out

__

He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

It’s been two hours and he’s already in a ski lodge for Pete’s sake and on a mountain and even if he’s as he away he can get, he still feels too close to them and he knows that even if he’s lived in Canada, he’ll still miss them but he doesn’t want this life back. It’s just a case of homesickness that will fade away on its own and Miz just tries to believe that as he lies on his bed, gripping onto the box that Morrison had gotten for him, his medicine but he knows that there is no medicine for his sickness.

There is nothing that can cure heartbreak and pain. There’s nothing that can numb him through emotional pain as bad as this and he knows it. His legs are twisted together and his head’s on a fluffy white pillow and his thoughts are always on both Cena and Morrison, one used to be an enemy, one was a friend—why did he tell him? He wishes that he can go back in time and make them forget everything he’s ever said.

But he can’t.

And the pain lingers on and on.

He can’t do anything to numb it all. It’s just pulsing through his veins. The agony and desolation that burns and burns and burns and he can’t handle it anymore. He’s sick on the inside as he sees images of Cena and Morrison together, both of them tired and concerned and he just doesn’t want that—but if he goes back, he knows he’ll regret it—and if he stays, he knows that all his thoughts will be about them and only them and—and—

He rolls to the other side of his bed and thinks clearly about the situation he’s in but nothing is clear anymore. Everything’s hazy and everything’s screwing his brains out and all he really understands is that he’s still alive and he’s not even sure of that anymore as he runs his hand through his hair.

Hearing the sound of his cell phone buzz in the darkness of his room, he takes it and looks at the name of his caller.

Idiot #2.

He chuckles quickly at the little nickname he’d put up for John Morrison as he places the phone back on his drawer even if voices inside of him was screaming for him to pick up the phone. He knows he won’t. He knows he won’t. He. Knows. He. Won’t. He curls up into a ball, putting his head on his knees as one of his hands grab onto his shoe, trying to think about the brand of his shoe but he can’t.

He sighs softly and stands up, telling himself that he should get out. Go ski or skate or just anything…anything to get his mind off of this.

He goes outside and walks around the snowy world and he knows that there aren’t many people around here and he just doesn’t want to them as he stares around. The softness of his eyes stands out. Innocence.

He feels two hands wrap around his waist and he stares out to look at the face of none other than Chris Jericho, a smirk settling on Jericho’s lips. “What are you doing here?” Miz whispers, stepping back, suddenly alert of the coldness of those blue eyes in front of him, of the hardness of those eyes.

“Needed a break. You wouldn’t know that since you left like a coward just because you got hurt. You’re a fragile as Edge.”

“I didn’t leave because I’m fragile, Jericho.”

“Believe what you want to believe.”

“Why are you really here?”

Chris steps further and bows his head down before he takes out a camera from a bag he has, the silver object glistens as the sunshine glints off it, and for two horrifying minutes, Miz’s eyes widen as he watches him and John go at it, the sex that happened and as Y2J paused and opened up another scene, Miz’s heart threatens to stop beating when he sees his confession—the most private confession of his used to be Michelle Mitzi Belle Mizanin life and Miz steps back. He’s more betrayed than ever. He’s never trusted Chris but what had Miz ever done to him?

Why—?

“You were stalking me!”

Chris steps towards him, holding onto Miz’s wrist, and letting his finger trace around a thick vein on Miz’s wrist, “have I ever told you how much I need a servant?”

“What? A servant?”

“Yes,” he ran his hand down Miz’s side and pressed the Miz towards him.

“I don’t want to get in mess with anyone, Jericho. Just leave me alone.”

“Someone’s in a sour mood, aren’t they?”

“I don’t want to get involved with you. I just left the two people that cared about me the most and I don’t want to go through anything like that again.”

“I don’t care about what happened to you. I just want a nice sweet little servant around me to do my damn bidding…”

“I am not going to be your ‘servant’, Jericho.”

He waves the video in front of his face, making Miz’s blood boil and stir with anger and rage, exploding in his hot blood. “Mizanin, did you ever think of coming back to the WWE?”

“Yes, I will…I just need time to think—wrestling is my passion…”

“Ooh, then let’s say if this video just so happens to be anonymously sent to Vince McMahon, and he so suddenly knows about one of his wrestlers being a transsexual—“Chris’s eyes are cold blue, a smirk creeping on his face.

“No!”

He takes Chris’s wrist, gripping as hard as ever, feeling the pain pulse in his veins. “Yes, yes, yes,” Chris ensures, his voice dripping with acid, there’s just no way out.

“I hate you!”

Chris grins, pressing Miz’s body to him, his voice unforgettable, disturbing, “all mine now…”


Crazy Train (4/25)
codyrhodesfan

______

Too Much Alcohol Alert
_________

And forget how to hate

Mental wounds not healing


you love alcohol too much

and you know you shouldn’t have agreed

to go to the bar with EDGE

but you don’t care anymore

because all you want to do is forget

randy orton and cody rhodes

and black and blue and red

and you want to see everything blurred

you don’t want to hear anything

you don’t care about anything anymore

you don’t want to remember

your wedding day

joining legacy

being born

nothing at all

you want your head to be filled with nothing

but the bubbly alcohol


(the first hour…)

You spend the first hour by causally sipping the alcohol and not saying a word to Edge about anything. He’s still Edge and he’s not Adam and he’s just the man who had taken away your belt and you don’t give a damn about it. Maybe he’s just Adam Copeland right now and you’re both just buddies and you’re both just drinking alcohol.

It all starts with a round of vodka.

The bubbly drink rips through your veins as you take the first sip and you remember your high school memories that seem so far away and you take another swing because you seriously don’t want to remember anything at all and you never want you. You want your head to have no memories and no thoughts and nothing—just nothing at all.

Edge’s voice rips through your thoughts as he notices that your eyes are lively and animated and vivacious with the scent of the alcohol that runs through your nose. And you’re thinking of your wife as she lies in bed, and you think of her as she kisses you goodnight and how she rubs your shoulders when you feel tense and you don’t think of how far away she is right now and how you spend your days trying to protect Cody Rhodes from sudden death and you don’t think of how Randy Orton and you have to spend every waking moment staring at him.

You’re just suddenly happy that you’re alive. You relax and you start talking and babbling to Edge about just anything. “I swear I can give Jeff Hardy a pin too if I wasn’t so trapped with Orton,” you say and you don’t care about how off you are because everything’s possible and nothing’s impossible. “I can probably be better than any wrestler. I mean, I am the son of the Million Dollar Man…that’s how it should be.”

He nods his head and pretends to listen to you but you’re so trapped into your own world that you don’t care and keep on blathering on and on and on and on. “And Rhodes…man, trying to kill himself, he’s just crazy. All crazy. He’s on the park floor, holding a razor and he’s just…crazy…” his voice’s so slurred that he doesn’t think that anyone can listen.

Edge’s eyes widen. “Really? Rhodes tried to mangle himself?” he asks and he has a curious grin on his face and you know that you’re not supposed to say anything but you enthusiastically nod your head as quickly as possible and take another swing of the huge glass of vodka in front of you.

You’re not alert. You can’t judge. You don’t know what the curious grin on Edge’s face means anymore and you don’t freaking care. You can’t concentrate anymore and moving makes you feel dizzy as you fall back into the chair and the wood hits you on your head but you don’t care. “Oh yeah, Cody had this strange addiction thing to the razor. He won’t let go of it in the beginning.

“And he claims that I’m the problem. That I made him try and kill himself when we all know that I didn’t do anything at all and Orton, damn it, he believed him!” you let the words slip out of his tongue. “He told me that I have one chance, and if I touch Rhodes again, I’ll be dead before I hit the floor…”


Alcohol.

Fills you.

When you’re sad.

And it doesn’t judge you.

And it erases all the memories.

And you love it.

You just feel the euphoria.

You just don’t want to leave.

Ever.


(the second hour…)

Ted DiBiase had never ever felt so attached to anything more in his life. He didn’t know it. He didn’t feel anything, the betrayal, the hate, the mournfulness, the despair, the disaster, the anger—it was all drained out of Ted’s body and nothing was there but a dull spark of treachery that wouldn’t ignite any time soon. His eyes were always staring at one thing, the cup of champagne that was on the table and he licked his lips.

He could almost taste the bitterness.

He could almost taste the happiness.

He could almost taste his success.

He could almost taste his failure.

And he grabbed onto the cup, drinking as quickly as possible, and wiping droplets of acid away from his face, he looked at Edge and sophistication and intelligence and life was drained out of Ted’s eyes and they didn’t seem to be coming back any time soon and he was just trying to stop his quivering lip, unaware of the people and the scene and the memories.

He wasn’t unaware that he was still alive.

Whenever Edge asked him a question, he felt a little uneasy to answer, the alcohol would rush to his head and his blood vessels would restrict heat as coldness drained through his body and nothing would be left inside of the DiBiase boy but coldness and confusion and strangeness.

It was all so distorted and surreal.

The world. The people. The memories. Everything was so surreal and so distorted and so unclear that nothing seemed real anymore, even the quick jerky movements of his hands seemed utterly unclear and dream-like. Soon the uneasiness had been drained out of his body, since everything was so very surreal—it didn’t matter, right? What he said and what he didn’t say?

When he picked up the glass again, he almost dropped it and he knew it was because the room was suddenly spinning and spinning and spinning but he didn’t care because he was in a dream and this wasn’t reality so it shouldn’t matter that the room spun or not and he shouldn’t care. It was only logical. Only very logical. But at the same time, it wasn’t.

Even with the room spinning and with a pounding headache and with a sloshing aching stomach, Ted DiBiase refused to believe that there was anything wrong with him because there wasn’t and there never will be. He was fine. He was fine…and he could feel it. But at the same time, all he could feel was a headache and a stomachache getting worse and worse by the minute.

He wasn’t aware that Edge was taking the half cup of alcohol and had sneakily made his drink stronger and as Ted tried to forget the room was spinning, with a shaking hand, he grabbed onto the glass of alcohol and he drank it all, felt the acid running through his throat, felt the nausea take over him as he dropped the glass down and it smashed to pieces.

But he wasn’t aware of it at all.

He didn’t care.


You don’t know.

If you’re alive or if you’re dead.

If they’re there or if they’re not.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

You’re shaded gray.

And you see only gray.

And you hear only a crash.

Of your heart.

And you’re not sure where you are.

Anymore.

Are you lost?

In yourself?


(the third hour…)

Your face’s so sad that even the waiter that serves you the whiskey, he gives off a frown of concern as he settle the glass of acid on your table and you stare at it and you don’t know if you should drink it or if you shouldn’t anymore. It’s your third glass and Edge keeps asking you questions that don’t make any sense. “Rhodes…you know why he tried to kill himself?”

Your face turns even bleaker as you shake your head and you bang the table in rage as you look back up at Edge’s face to see the shock that’s plastered on it. “Yeah! He says it’s my fault but I didn’t do anything…or did I?” you’re suddenly doubting it and you look down at the floor with a pout on your face and now the waiter keeps staring at you like you’re a disease and coming near you would spill out that rage you’ve been keeping in.

You stand up, suddenly feeling your blood boil and your arteries snap from the anger you’ve been keeping in and your veins are spreading heat to your body everywhere, and you’re suddenly sweating as harsh as possible and you don’t know what to do anymore. It’s all because of so much alcohol but you won’t stop. You can’t stop because you want the alcohol to fill your empty body and soul and heart up and you can’t stop now.

It’s nowhere close to halfway.

It’s midnight and you hold onto the cup in your hands before you drink the whiskey that’s inside, you feel yourself get so high that you want to fall flat on the floor but you don’t. Instead, you’re still standing with legs made of Jell-O and dull hair and shaken hands and hurt, hurt, hurt eyes and you don’t know what to do anymore so you let the glass settle back on the table but the rage inside of you finally spills. “I swear! Cody can be such a—he can be so annoying sometimes. He thinks just because I care he can take advantage of it! Well, I’m not his friend anymore so he can go crawl to Orton with bruises that I’ll give him! Why the hell would he say that I did it?!”

Edge stares in amusement but rolls his eyes at the same time and he doesn’t say anything but sip the halfway glass of champagne he ordered three hours ago and you don’t care that you’re going hysterical in front of a public bar and you don’t care that you’re burning up inside, in a public place—you have the right, don’t you? And your thoughts are so slurred and confusing that you don’t notice and care that everyone’s staring straight at you.

“He did this to me! I can’t believe that he got Randy to hit me! I can’t believe that he’d do this to me!” You fall back down on your car and everyone goes back to laughing and dancing and gossiping as if you’re not there and you’re not. If they act like you’re not there, then why should you act like you’re here?

You breathe in and out and you look at Edge with a look of dark triumph blazing through you and you don’t know why you’re suddenly so happy and light headed but you are.

“So you’re saying that Orton bashed you?” and you nod your head in a happy state because you don’t know why you’re so angry or sad or happy anymore and those emotions seem to plaster themselves on your face and you can’t control your own hormones or your own body because you keep on hitting your hand on the table and sometimes, your head on your chair and all you can do is stare at Edge’s face.

“So you have no intention of going back to him?”

“I do. I mean how can I prove myself to him if I don’t go back?” you ask as if it’s the most obvious goal set to your mind and Edge sighs before he shakes his head and thinks to himself about how you’re so confusing but you don’t care even if you can see the emotion splashed across his face.


You’re so in vain.

You don’t even know it.


(the fourth hour…)

You don’t understand anything. You’ve just had a glass of tonic and gin and your mind is spinning like Hell and you feel like you’re unconscious but you can still see colors, dull, out of sense colors are in front of your face and you think that they’re pictures. Your vision’s so impaired that you think you can’t see enough to stand up but you try to anyways.

And you don’t know how to move and you don’t know how fast or how slow is your speed that you end up slamming Edge in the stomach and Edge’s eyes turn gleeful. “Fight!” and he grabs you by the hand and pushes you towards the floor and you stare at him with eyes that can’t comprehend the image that’s Edge and you take his arm and twist it behind his back, making him fall down in defeat.

You stand up on a chair and hit Edge right in his head by jumping at him and landing head first on his stomach, and your hands dig into his stomach as well and he lets out a cry of pain but somewhere along the cry of pain, there’s satisfaction as he pushes you off and grips onto your arms. “Do you know what this means?” he asks you.

You shake your head and you can’t really comprehend the colors and the sentences and the words he’s saying but you try to take it in. You don’t think you remember who you are or who anyone else is so how can you understand what he means? “DiBiase,” that’s your name? “You know that you and I can be tag team warriors. I’ll dump Jericho and you can be my new tag team champion. The Rated R Dream. That’s perfect!”

You slowly nod your head because you don’t understand anything as he lets go of your arms with a gleeful smile painted on his face.


You don’t know what you are.

Who you are.

But you think that you’ve done a bad thing.

Your stomach flips.

And your head spins.

And voices protest inside your head.


Ted DiBiase’s heart pounded and threatened to burst through his chest and as he grabbed onto his car keys and jiggled it inside of the car, he tried to drive but he didn’t know how it, the exhilaration was killing him and all he wanted to do was go home because he could feel his heart working and working and beating and beating and threatening to stop any second if he didn’t do anything about it.

He got into the car and drove off and he knew that he couldn’t see well but he hoped that God would keep him alive at the end of this and as he stopped off at the hotel that Randy Orton and Cody Rhodes were at, he got a room for himself, in the same floor as Randy and Cody and even with pain swirling through his head, he managed to get to his room and fall onto the bed and black out from the exhaustion and the alcohol that swallowed him hole.

But Ted didn’t know that the amount of alcohol that he drank could’ve killed him. He didn’t do any of that and he couldn’t remember why he was all alone when he had slipped into full unconsciousness.


Alone
You sit alone on the floor
Waiting for a miracle
But no one comes
And no one stays
And you sit on the floor
Away from the world
And you know you’re not leaving anytime soon
Because no one’s here to save you
You’re simply alone, Mr. Simply Priceless.



Crazy Train (3/25)
codyrhodesfan

___________

Pretend that I Hate You

__________

Maybe it’s not too late
to learn how to love

_________________

you think you know that when you go through the tunnel

you’re going someplace new

dark and distorted

all so very surreal

you’re under it all

you’re hugging the person next to you for comfort

you’ve seen the darkness that’s following you

there’s no light at the end of the tunnel

and you don’t stick around until the end

you’re going someplace new and different

dark and distorted

all so very surreal

you walk outside

see the sunshine

see the love

see the freaking sweetness that people have

but you can’t remember anything

but that tunnel that you’ve barreled in

but the darkness you’ve seen

but the terror you’ve felt

but the piercing scream you’ve heard

(when you heard the scream

you didn’t even know it was you)

but the bitterness you’ve tasted

and you don’t know if you’ll ever see sunshine

and you don’t know if you’ll ever feel happy

and you don’t know if you’ll ever hear laughter

and you don’t know if you’ll ever taste sweetness

because you’re drowning into the liquid pool

of darkness

and rejection

and Dustin Rhodes

and you can’t get out…

NO WAY OUT

_____________________

Cody lied silent on the bed of a hotel room and he didn’t say anything and he didn’t do anything and he didn’t know if he was breathing.

Ted DiBiase was slung on the couch, one hand on the armrest and one hand dangled towards the floor. He was asleep. Asleep with sweet little dreams inside of the nightmares that forever haunted Cody Rhodes’ mind. He can’t see anything but black and blue, nightmares of the dark, nightmares of the cold, bleakness and bitterness, all clashed together and mashed together and crushed together in Cody’s little mind and he didn’t know what to do but take a deep breath and attempt to breathe.

Randy Orton was on the other bed. Peaceful, mouth slightly opened, arm on his stomach, other one disappeared behind his back, tranquil, calm and serene, Randy slept silently and all Cody could want was the tranquility that rested along Randy’s face.

He could feel his shoulders tense; his mouth was filled with acid, knots formed in his stomach, his back ached and he didn’t know how to move or if he should be moving. He heard the phone ringing, every time he heard the sound, his heart pounded faster and faster and faster…

His hand uneasily and fearful grabbed onto the phone and with a shaking, utterly and completely shaking hand, he brought the receiver close to his ears while feeling darkness explode in his heart and head and the terror and horror and panic didn’t stop.

“Hello, Cody,” it was Dustin’s sleek, dark voice.

Cody fell to his bed, clutching onto the phone, and he didn’t know how to move or if he should move or if everything that was spiraling and spinning in his head was just a part of his so stupid imagination and he shouldn’t be thinking like this or breathing like this.

“Listen, Cody…did you like what Todd did to you?” his voice was mocking, asking him as if he was a baby, a child that can only comprehend so little and Cody’s shoulders shook rigidly. He’d rather have the voices. He wanted the voices back. He didn’t want Dustin. He didn’t want this at all and he’d do anything to get away from the fear that sliced Cody’s heart in two halves.

You just want to freaking die but you don’t know how to. You just want to freaking die…but no one will let you. Cody’s blood was boiling hot, spreading so much heat along his skin that he felt sweat run down his head, but he didn’t care and all he wanted to do was go back to the life that he used to know but that was impossible knowing what Dustin did to him and knowing that he’d do more, harder, aggressive, more and more…

“N-no,” Cody could barely get the words to slip out of his mouth. They just did.

“Okay then,” Dustin’s voice cut through Cody’s head, Todd—punching his stomach. You wanted to throw up. Touching him. You were truly made to be his possession. Laughing and laughing and laughing. You just sat there, cowering in the fear that ate you whole… “Then do what I say, Cody. I want you to hate them.”

“Who’s t-them?” Cody bit his lip and tried to forget the possibility but it was a possibility and that made him fidget and shake and tremble in his place from the thought…

“Hate Legacy. Hate Randy. Hate Ted.”

Cody’s eyes widened with shock and his mouth gaped open and he didn’t know what to say so he dropped the phone and he heard the dial tone. Dustin had already shut the phone and he lied silently, lifelessly, dreadfully, thinking of the darkness that he’d been barreled into, thinking of how much pain he’d cause Ted and Randy and just…oh my God-just-oh…

Randy slowly opened his eyes and grunted and groaned in protest to waking up but so slowly, he had woken up and his eyes were on Cody Rhodes’ body and the paleness that popped against his face and his eyes widened. “Cody, what happened, man? Did anyone—?”

He stood up before he can finish the sentence and walked over to the shaking and shivering body, unable to control himself, unable to think and stop and just freaking breathe. Randy leaned down to Cody’s face. “Hey, did anyone do anything to you?”

Cody looked at Randy, remembering Dustin’s words, each syllable struck a cord in his brain and made him bleed inside all over again.

Hate Legacy. Hate Randy. Hate Ted.”

“Go away,” Cody said, his voice filled with fake hate and fake coldness and just fake everything. The words that slipped out of the tip of Cody’s tongue made him feel filed with darkness and rotting in his own casket.

“Well, if you need anything, Rhodes…” Randy didn’t finish the sentence because he saw Cody’s mask, plastered hate on his face, plastered darkness and coldness and so much damn hatred on his face that Randy stepped back and slipped in his bed, without saying another word or taking another breath.

“I’m sorry,” Cody mumbled to himself, feeling the strain of pain in his voice but Randy was already asleep and Ted had been asleep through the entire night and all that was asleep from Cody was his all too unfaithful, all too dark, all too bleeding heart.

___________________

Sorry.

Doesn’t make it all better.

Sorry.

Slips out of your tongue.

Sorry.

Pain fills your voice.

Sorry.

No one listens.

Sorry.

You’re so broken.

Sorry.

That you can’t be perfect.

Sorry.

That you’re bleeding.

Sorry.

That you’re too late.

To apologize.

For what you’ve freaking done.

Sorry.

That you can’t love.

Sorry.

That you have to learn how to hate.

Sorry.

That your mask is tainted.

Black and white it’s painted.

Horribly maintained.

With your heart’s blood.

It’s stained.

Sorry.

That they can’t see that you’re bleeding.

(I’m so sorry Ted)

All over.

(I’m so sorry Randy)

For them.

(I hate that my voice is your horror movie on replay)

______________________

You’re standing next to your locker and you don’t know if you should do the match and you don’t know if they’ll let you do the match and you just want to sit down and pretend that you really do hate them and that they’ve done something very bad to you, Cody but you don’t know how to act like that.

So you cry and tear and scream on the inside when you look at them with the fake black color in your body as you’re being shocked inside with the pain that’s filling in their eyes. You don’t know if you should tell them that Dustin wants you to hate them and you don’t know if they can see right through you but all you know is that you have to listen to that voice.

Hate Legacy.”

The golden symbol that you used to wear so proudly so smugly so conceitedly on your attire is now a symbol of dullness in your eyes because you don’t deserve to wear it anymore and you know it, Rhodes. You know it all. As you slip down the walls and look around and pretend that you’re somewhere else, that this is all some freaking dream you’ll wake up from but it’s not and you know it as good as anyone else does as you pound your head to the wall and feel yourself break into nothing and you know that you’re Cody Rhodes because no one’s as pathetic as you are right now.

“Hey, Cody, you should sit out the match.” You hear Ted’s voice replaying in your mind and you swallow the acid and vomit and invisible alcohol down your throat as you feel your head spin and your heart throb and your veins pop and your arteries constrict.

Hate Ted.”

You feel your blood boil and your hair stand up and your nausea eat you up and your headache kill your insides but you don’t let anything roll out of your tired mouth because you’ve always bottled everything and now, you have to bottle the overflowing pain inside of you.

You just don’t know how to.

You stand up, feeling crazy and insane, feeling energized and refreshing, trying to ignore the pain and trying to ignore the throbbing and you just hear the sound of you cell phone ring before terror and fear and agony crashes your heart down because you know that it’s probably Dustin and you don’t want to answer it that way.

You hold the phone close to your ear and with a shaking hand; you try to listen to what Dustin’s saying. “Hey, you see your locker?” you hadn’t opened it, they say that you don’t need it because you’re not playing and you feel a stab of horror bubble inside of you for what could be inside of the locker but you don’t say anything as you lick your dry lips.

“I want you to open it.” And you do so to find an expensive-looking bottle of what? Champagne? Vodka? Tequila? You know its alcohol and that’s all that seems to matter and you already feel the weight of the discovery wear you down but you don’t say anything. “It’s champagne. I want you to drink it. And then go into the ring.”

You don’t protest and say that Jeff Hardy and CM Punk are chattering away in the ring because of the events of the Bash and you don’t say that Randy and Ted are just waiting for them to finish. You know that because all you hear is Jeff Hardy’s annoyed words and CM Punk’s half angry half calm words and all you do is nod your head even if he can’t really see you.

“I’ll be watching.” The last line sends a shiver up your spine and all you can do is nod your head another time before you hear the dial tone and you take the bottle of champagne, slowly unscrewing the cap and you can almost feel as if the voices are the liquid, and you’re going to drink it. You feel completely unfaithful to Legacy but you don’t know what else to do. Dustin wants you to suffer and suffer harshly because Dustin never ever liked you and you know that as much as you know that Dusty has no idea of what’s going on.

Hate Randy.”

You drink the bottle of champagne without letting a word flow out of your mouth about how unfair this all seems and you let the acid claw at your throat and you can taste the bitterness and sweetness and just anything and everything all at once and even if your stomach churns and your head pounds even more, you force the entire bottle’s liquid down your throat until there is no more and you let the bottle fall to the ground.

Your head’s spinning, spinning, spinning and your stomach’s flipping, flipping, flipping with pain and all you can do is try and breathe but you forget how to and oh God. You try and head towards the ring and you can almost hear Randy and Ted’s cries of protest and confusion and shock and when they see you, drunk as you are, their eyes threaten to pop out of their heads.

You run towards the ring and even with your head spinning so much, you can make out the blurry black and white and purple vision in front of you is Jeff Hardy and as Jeff drops the microphone, you spear him, hard, in the gut and you laugh so moronically at it.

You look at CM Punk and you can see the blurry man clear enough to know that you’re going to attack him just as fast, CM Punk’s so in shock he doesn’t even make a move when you twist his arm behind his back. That’s when he reacts and lets his other arm take your neck and try to wrench it backwards. You think fast and throw CM Punk’s body towards Jeff Hardy’s and they both are twisted and collided in the mess.

Everyone’s so quiet as your head pounds one more time before you feel Ted DiBiase’s hands grab onto your waist and pull you out. You still don’t care about the churning in your stomach or the headache of Hell you’ve gotten because no one else seems to care.

You know that you’re being pushed inside of the locker room as Ted flings you towards the wall and Randy steps towards you, pushes you harshly to the wall and smells the scent of alcohol in your mouth and his eyes widen. “Rhodes, what are you thinking? Drinking?”

You want to talk but every thought’s so slurred into your mind that you don’t know how to.

“What has gotten into you?” Randy demands, and his voice’s so thick and so stern and so stiff that you feel you stomach flip uneasily and violently just at the sound of his voice.

“I-I…” you start to stutter and then your eyes look at Ted DiBiase. Your heart’s jumping and flipping in apology and you don’t know what else to say and you hate Dustin more than anything right now as you say the words that are going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“It’s all Ted’s fault!”

__________________

Haunted
.

Cody’s haunted.

By shadows of his past.

Family.

And he doesn’t know how to break free.

Without hurting himself or people he loves.

And Dustin wants the pain to linger.

Haunted.

He’s haunted.

By the pain that stabs him all the time.

By the champagne’s scent that forever reminds him.

Of what he’d said.

It’s all Ted’s fault!”

Haunted.

By the thought of Ted. NEVER EVER. Speaking to him.

Because of what he said.

Haunted.

By the dreams and nightmares that ate him alive.

By the tunnel of darkness that never ended.

And thoughts of no light at the end of the tunnel.

Haunted.

By his own flesh and blood.

By his own self.

______________________

Randy’s face turned to face Ted’s pale, confused, horror-struck face and Cody felt the guilt burning up inside of him and Randy didn’t stop as he rammed Ted’s body to the wall and Cody closed his eyes because he can’t look at this horror movie, this drama piece, any longer and it hurt all too much.

“Ted, what the hell?!”

Randy thought of Cody’s suicide attempt, all black and blue, thought of the blood that swallowed him whole when he had found him in an alley in the middle of the night, why him? thought of the clouds of horror that lingered inside of Cody’s head, champagne, the event in the ring, the shaking, the trembling, the fear, all happened with Ted and Cody in the car, Ted finding the note and pretending to care and anger blazed in him even more.

Ted’s eyes filled with confusion and anger. He’d been the one to take care of him, read his note, ran there as fast as I can to save him from his own suicide he’d never do anything to hurt him the punch in the locker room replays and replays and replays in Ted’s head and he can understand why Randy thinks this way and why Cody says the words he does but at the same time, still doesn’t and he even offered him a car ride but Ted had to force him inside of his car because he was just that worried about what Cody would do all by himself thought he’d hurt himself, mangle himself, thought he’d kill himself.

He was the one to look for Cody for two hours before explaining it all to Randy Orton and he never stopped looking until Randy found him turned every stone, looked through every store, every drug store, everything. He was the one to have a horror-struck nightmare about his friend about being the one to hurt him, remembering the punch in the locker room, about being the one to push him into committing suicide…but that’s not true, how could it be? Ted didn’t do anything to tempt him like that.

“I didn’t do anything! The little bitch just wants someone to blame!”

Cody’s heart might’ve stopped into his chest at the Ted’s words. Each one carved themselves, scraped themselves in Cody’s so bleeding heart, making more cuts and holes and Cody just watched, not saying anything, not doing anything at all.

Randy’s eyes widened and he gave Ted a quick, hard RKO and he didn’t regret it as he saw Ted falling towards the white bleachers and hit his head and feel the pain shooting up his head and he gritted his teeth as he looked at Cody in betrayal. Ted quickly stood up and ran over towards Cody, ramming him towards the wall and their two eyes intensely meet.

Ted’s was filled with confusion, deception and anger, pure anger flowing through Ted’s veins and arteries and towards his heart.

Cody’s was filled with sorrow, depression and fear, exploding fear burning through Cody’s veins and arteries and towards his heart.

Ted was just so angry and anyone can see it. Anyone could see the darkness that accumulated and gathered and clustered Ted’s wide eyes. And as Randy grabbed onto Ted’s shoulder and jerked him backwards, the anger quickly faded and nothing was left but deception.

“One chance. I swear, DiBiase, just one chance. If you dare do anything to him, I’ll personally kill you.” Randy’s voice was filled with determination and certainty and sweat ran down Randy’s forehead and Ted DiBiase’s eyes struck fear as he slowly, oh so slowly, nodded his head.

“Good.”

_____________________

Imprinted
on skin.

Tattoos.

Of the unforgotten.

Marked on heart.

Tattoos.

Of the darkness.

Marked on Ted.

Tattoos.

Of Cody’s shadows.

(I’m sorry, Ted)

Tattoos.

Of Cody’s horror.

(I can’t run away either)

________________________

Ted just can’t believe it.

My best friend…

Turned on him.

Now, he knew what Randy Orton felt like.

Betrayed.

Seeking revenge.

Just feeling the sweet taste of it at the tip of his tongue.

Cody, why?

He just didn’t know why he said it.

_________________

All’s dead.

All’s gone.

All’s left to gain.

___________

Edge’s hard brown eyes were soothed at the vivid image of Jeff and Punk being beaten down by Cody Rhodes in an instant.

The forcefulness, the ferocity, the rage, and the wrath as he threw Punk towards Jeff Hardy. The hardened mass of darkness in Cody’s eyes had sent a chill up Edge’s spine. Talent was smeared all over the Rhodes’ boy and Edge knew it. He can go somewhere… he stepped towards Legacy’s locker room and saw the bits and pieces of the champagne bottle on the floor.

Alcohol.

That was Cody’s trigger. His eyes went up to Ted DiBiase, standing stiff and still, not noticing Edge’s presence as Edge smirked.

What would happen if he got Ted DiBiase drunk?

______________

I’m sorry.

(Sorry won’t cut it)

It’s…it’s…

(What is it Cody?)

I’m all messed up.

(You’re always messed up!)

I swear I’ll make this up to you.

(MAKE IT UP TO ME!? You saw what Randy did.)

I’m sorry

(You saw what Randy did…)

All my fault.

(Always was)

You’re cutting me to the edge, Ted.

(You know that sorry doesn’t cut it, Cody)

_________________

Cody’s eyes fluttered open.

The terrible horrible terrifying nightmare had struck Cody hard in his head. He didn’t want to think of Ted. They had returned to the locker room, after Randy had insisted on bandaging all of his body from cuts of nightmares and bruises of c-c-cold dust and dead skin from the returning from the horrifying playground that used to be a made of dreams, to find no sign of Ted anywhere.

And it hurt Cody more than anything to know how he’d broken his best friend. How he’d broken his tag team partner into smoldering rubble and he didn’t know how to fix this mistake. He didn’t know where Ted was and feared for where he was. And he didn’t know how to sleep.

He stood up from his bed and walked towards where Ted slept, on the couch, he sat down onto the couch, wedged between the blankets and the pillows, feeling alone and sinking into darkness and he didn’t know if he can breathe. He didn’t feel close to Ted at all.

Just more and more away.

You’re so disappointing, Cody.

The voices banged through his head, reminding him of how he’d flung out of the car, of how he’d hurt and scraped and bled when Randy found him hours later and all he could feel was the air around him, and he felt as if the air was truly Ted DiBiase ready to suffocate him.

You should be dead right now for how you’ve hurt Ted.

___________

Deception
.

Deception was biting up Ted DiBiase’s heart.

And he didn’t know what to do next.

Because he had no one to guide him.

And no one to follow him.

Just all alone.

Deceived.


(No Subject)
codyrhodesfan

_________

Pretend that I Hate You

_________

Maybe it’s not too late
to learn how to love

______________

you think you know that when you go through the tunnel

you’re going someplace new

dark and distorted

all so very surreal

you’re under it all

you’re hugging the person next to you for comfort

you’ve seen the darkness that’s following you

there’s no light at the end of the tunnel

and you don’t stick around until the end

you’re going someplace new and different

dark and distorted

all so very surreal

you walk outside

see the sunshine

see the love

see the freaking sweetness that people have

but you can’t remember anything

but that tunnel that you’ve barreled in

but the darkness you’ve seen

but the terror you’ve felt

but the piercing scream you’ve heard

(when you heard the scream

you didn’t even know it was you)

but the bitterness you’ve tasted

and you don’t know if you’ll ever see sunshine

and you don’t know if you’ll ever feel happy

and you don’t know if you’ll ever hear laughter

and you don’t know if you’ll ever taste sweetness

because you’re drowning into the liquid pool

of darkness

and rejection

and Dustin Rhodes

and you can’t get out…

NO WAY OUT

___________

Cody lied silent on the bed of a hotel room and he didn’t say anything and he didn’t do anything and he didn’t know if he was breathing.

Ted DiBiase was slung on the couch, one hand on the armrest and one hand dangled towards the floor. He was asleep. Asleep with sweet little dreams inside of the nightmares that forever haunted Cody Rhodes’ mind. He can’t see anything but black and blue, nightmares of the dark, nightmares of the cold, bleakness and bitterness, all clashed together and mashed together and crushed together in Cody’s little mind and he didn’t know what to do but take a deep breath and attempt to breathe.

Randy Orton was on the other bed. Peaceful, mouth slightly opened, arm on his stomach, other one disappeared behind his back, tranquil, calm and serene, Randy slept silently and all Cody could want was the tranquility that rested along Randy’s face.

He could feel his shoulders tense; his mouth was filled with acid, knots formed in his stomach, his back ached and he didn’t know how to move or if he should be moving. He heard the phone ringing, every time he heard the sound, his heart pounded faster and faster and faster…

His hand uneasily and fearful grabbed onto the phone and with a shaking, utterly and completely shaking hand, he brought the receiver close to his ears while feeling darkness explode in his heart and head and the terror and horror and panic didn’t stop.

“Hello, Cody,” it was Dustin’s sleek, dark voice.

Cody fell to his bed, clutching onto the phone, and he didn’t know how to move or if he should move or if everything that was spiraling and spinning in his head was just a part of his so stupid imagination and he shouldn’t be thinking like this or breathing like this.

“Listen, Cody…did you like what Todd did to you?” his voice was mocking, asking him as if he was a baby, a child that can only comprehend so little and Cody’s shoulders shook rigidly. He’d rather have the voices. He wanted the voices back. He didn’t want Dustin. He didn’t want this at all and he’d do anything to get away from the fear that sliced Cody’s heart in two halves.

You just want to freaking die but you don’t know how to. You just want to freaking die…but no one will let you. Cody’s blood was boiling hot, spreading so much heat along his skin that he felt sweat run down his head, but he didn’t care and all he wanted to do was go back to the life that he used to know but that was impossible knowing what Dustin did to him and knowing that he’d do more, harder, aggressive, more and more…

“N-no,” Cody could barely get the words to slip out of his mouth. They just did.

“Okay then,” Dustin’s voice cut through Cody’s head, Todd—punching his stomach. You wanted to throw up. Touching him. You were truly made to be his possession. Laughing and laughing and laughing. You just sat there, cowering in the fear that ate you whole… “Then do what I say, Cody. I want you to hate them.”

“Who’s t-them?” Cody bit his lip and tried to forget the possibility but it was a possibility and that made him fidget and shake and tremble in his place from the thought…

“Hate Legacy. Hate Randy. Hate Ted.”

Cody’s eyes widened with shock and his mouth gaped open and he didn’t know what to say so he dropped the phone and he heard the dial tone. Dustin had already shut the phone and he lied silently, lifelessly, dreadfully, thinking of the darkness that he’d been barreled into, thinking of how much pain he’d cause Ted and Randy and just…oh my God-just-oh…

Randy slowly opened his eyes and grunted and groaned in protest to waking up but so slowly, he had woken up and his eyes were on Cody Rhodes’ body and the paleness that popped against his face and his eyes widened. “Cody, what happened, man? Did anyone—?”

He stood up before he can finish the sentence and walked over to the shaking and shivering body, unable to control himself, unable to think and stop and just freaking breathe. Randy leaned down to Cody’s face. “Hey, did anyone do anything to you?”

Cody looked at Randy, remembering Dustin’s words, each syllable struck a cord in his brain and made him bleed inside all over again.

Hate Legacy. Hate Randy. Hate Ted.”

“Go away,” Cody said, his voice filled with fake hate and fake coldness and just fake everything. The words that slipped out of the tip of Cody’s tongue made him feel filed with darkness and rotting in his own casket.

“Well, if you need anything, Rhodes…” Randy didn’t finish the sentence because he saw Cody’s mask, plastered hate on his face, plastered darkness and coldness and so much damn hatred on his face that Randy stepped back and slipped in his bed, without saying another word or taking another breath.

“I’m sorry,” Cody mumbled to himself, feeling the strain of pain in his voice but Randy was already asleep and Ted had been asleep through the entire night and all that was asleep from Cody was his all too unfaithful, all too dark, all too bleeding heart.

__________________________

Sorry.

Doesn’t make it all better.

Sorry.

Slips out of your tongue.

Sorry.

Pain fills your voice.

Sorry.

No one listens.

Sorry.

You’re so broken.

Sorry.

That you can’t be perfect.

Sorry.

That you’re bleeding.

Sorry.

That you’re too late.

To apologize.

For what you’ve freaking done.

Sorry.

That you can’t love.

Sorry.

That you have to learn how to hate.

Sorry.

That your mask is tainted.

Black and white it’s painted.

Horribly maintained.

With your heart’s blood.

It’s stained.

Sorry.

That they can’t see that you’re bleeding.

(I’m so sorry Ted)

All over.

(I’m so sorry Randy)

For them.

(I hate that my voice is your horror movie on replay)

__________________________

You’re standing next to your locker and you don’t know if you should do the match and you don’t know if they’ll let you do the match and you just want to sit down and pretend that you really do hate them and that they’ve done something very bad to you, Cody but you don’t know how to act like that.

So you cry and tear and scream on the inside when you look at them with the fake black color in your body as you’re being shocked inside with the pain that’s filling in their eyes. You don’t know if you should tell them that Dustin wants you to hate them and you don’t know if they can see right through you but all you know is that you have to listen to that voice.

Hate Legacy.”

The golden symbol that you used to wear so proudly so smugly so conceitedly on your attire is now a symbol of dullness in your eyes because you don’t deserve to wear it anymore and you know it, Rhodes. You know it all. As you slip down the walls and look around and pretend that you’re somewhere else, that this is all some freaking dream you’ll wake up from but it’s not and you know it as good as anyone else does as you pound your head to the wall and feel yourself break into nothing and you know that you’re Cody Rhodes because no one’s as pathetic as you are right now.

“Hey, Cody, you should sit out the match.” You hear Ted’s voice replaying in your mind and you swallow the acid and vomit and invisible alcohol down your throat as you feel your head spin and your heart throb and your veins pop and your arteries constrict.

Hate Ted.”

You feel your blood boil and your hair stand up and your nausea eat you up and your headache kill your insides but you don’t let anything roll out of your tired mouth because you’ve always bottled everything and now, you have to bottle the overflowing pain inside of you.

You just don’t know how to.

You stand up, feeling crazy and insane, feeling energized and refreshing, trying to ignore the pain and trying to ignore the throbbing and you just hear the sound of you cell phone ring before terror and fear and agony crashes your heart down because you know that it’s probably Dustin and you don’t want to answer it that way.

You hold the phone close to your ear and with a shaking hand; you try to listen to what Dustin’s saying. “Hey, you see your locker?” you hadn’t opened it, they say that you don’t need it because you’re not playing and you feel a stab of horror bubble inside of you for what could be inside of the locker but you don’t say anything as you lick your dry lips.

“I want you to open it.” And you do so to find an expensive-looking bottle of what? Champagne? Vodka? Tequila? You know its alcohol and that’s all that seems to matter and you already feel the weight of the discovery wear you down but you don’t say anything. “It’s champagne. I want you to drink it. And then go into the ring.”

You don’t protest and say that Jeff Hardy and CM Punk are chattering away in the ring because of the events of the Bash and you don’t say that Randy and Ted are just waiting for them to finish. You know that because all you hear is Jeff Hardy’s annoyed words and CM Punk’s half angry half calm words and all you do is nod your head even if he can’t really see you.

“I’ll be watching.” The last line sends a shiver up your spine and all you can do is nod your head another time before you hear the dial tone and you take the bottle of champagne, slowly unscrewing the cap and you can almost feel as if the voices are the liquid, and you’re going to drink it. You feel completely unfaithful to Legacy but you don’t know what else to do. Dustin wants you to suffer and suffer harshly because Dustin never ever liked you and you know that as much as you know that Dusty has no idea of what’s going on.

Hate Randy.”

You drink the bottle of champagne without letting a word flow out of your mouth about how unfair this all seems and you let the acid claw at your throat and you can taste the bitterness and sweetness and just anything and everything all at once and even if your stomach churns and your head pounds even more, you force the entire bottle’s liquid down your throat until there is no more and you let the bottle fall to the ground.

Your head’s spinning, spinning, spinning and your stomach’s flipping, flipping, flipping with pain and all you can do is try and breathe but you forget how to and oh God. You try and head towards the ring and you can almost hear Randy and Ted’s cries of protest and confusion and shock and when they see you, drunk as you are, their eyes threaten to pop out of their heads.

You run towards the ring and even with your head spinning so much, you can make out the blurry black and white and purple vision in front of you is Jeff Hardy and as Jeff drops the microphone, you spear him, hard, in the gut and you laugh so moronically at it.

You look at CM Punk and you can see the blurry man clear enough to know that you’re going to attack him just as fast, CM Punk’s so in shock he doesn’t even make a move when you twist his arm behind his back. That’s when he reacts and lets his other arm take your neck and try to wrench it backwards. You think fast and throw CM Punk’s body towards Jeff Hardy’s and they both are twisted and collided in the mess.

Everyone’s so quiet as your head pounds one more time before you feel Ted DiBiase’s hands grab onto your waist and pull you out. You still don’t care about the churning in your stomach or the headache of Hell you’ve gotten because no one else seems to care.

You know that you’re being pushed inside of the locker room as Ted flings you towards the wall and Randy steps towards you, pushes you harshly to the wall and smells the scent of alcohol in your mouth and his eyes widen. “Rhodes, what are you thinking? Drinking?”

You want to talk but every thought’s so slurred into your mind that you don’t know how to.

“What has gotten into you?” Randy demands, and his voice’s so thick and so stern and so stiff that you feel you stomach flip uneasily and violently just at the sound of his voice.

“I-I…” you start to stutter and then your eyes look at Ted DiBiase. Your heart’s jumping and flipping in apology and you don’t know what else to say and you hate Dustin more than anything right now as you say the words that are going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“It’s all Ted’s fault!”

_____________________________________

Haunted.

Cody’s haunted.

By shadows of his past.

Family.

And he doesn’t know how to break free.

Without hurting himself or people he loves.

And Dustin wants the pain to linger.

Haunted.

He’s haunted.

By the pain that stabs him all the time.

By the champagne’s scent that forever reminds him.

Of what he’d said.

It’s all Ted’s fault!”

Haunted.

By the thought of Ted. NEVER EVER. Speaking to him.

Because of what he said.

Haunted.

By the dreams and nightmares that ate him alive.

By the tunnel of darkness that never ended.

And thoughts of no light at the end of the tunnel.

Haunted.

By his own flesh and blood.

By his own self.

______________________________

Randy’s face turned to face Ted’s pale, confused, horror-struck face and Cody felt the guilt burning up inside of him and Randy didn’t stop as he rammed Ted’s body to the wall and Cody closed his eyes because he can’t look at this horror movie, this drama piece, any longer and it hurt all too much.

“Ted, what the hell?!”

Randy thought of Cody’s suicide attempt, all black and blue, thought of the blood that swallowed him whole when he had found him in an alley in the middle of the night, why him? thought of the clouds of horror that lingered inside of Cody’s head, champagne, the event in the ring, the shaking, the trembling, the fear, all happened with Ted and Cody in the car, Ted finding the note and pretending to care and anger blazed in him even more.

Ted’s eyes filled with confusion and anger. He’d been the one to take care of him, read his note, ran there as fast as I can to save him from his own suicide he’d never do anything to hurt him the punch in the locker room replays and replays and replays in Ted’s head and he can understand why Randy thinks this way and why Cody says the words he does but at the same time, still doesn’t and he even offered him a car ride but Ted had to force him inside of his car because he was just that worried about what Cody would do all by himself thought he’d hurt himself, mangle himself, thought he’d kill himself.

He was the one to look for Cody for two hours before explaining it all to Randy Orton and he never stopped looking until Randy found him turned every stone, looked through every store, every drug store, everything. He was the one to have a horror-struck nightmare about his friend about being the one to hurt him, remembering the punch in the locker room, about being the one to push him into committing suicide…but that’s not true, how could it be? Ted didn’t do anything to tempt him like that.

“I didn’t do anything! The little bitch just wants someone to blame!”

Cody’s heart might’ve stopped into his chest at the Ted’s words. Each one carved themselves, scraped themselves in Cody’s so bleeding heart, making more cuts and holes and Cody just watched, not saying anything, not doing anything at all.

Randy’s eyes widened and he gave Ted a quick, hard RKO and he didn’t regret it as he saw Ted falling towards the white bleachers and hit his head and feel the pain shooting up his head and he gritted his teeth as he looked at Cody in betrayal. Ted quickly stood up and ran over towards Cody, ramming him towards the wall and their two eyes intensely meet.

Ted’s was filled with confusion, deception and anger, pure anger flowing through Ted’s veins and arteries and towards his heart.

Cody’s was filled with sorrow, depression and fear, exploding fear burning through Cody’s veins and arteries and towards his heart.

Ted was just so angry and anyone can see it. Anyone could see the darkness that accumulated and gathered and clustered Ted’s wide eyes. And as Randy grabbed onto Ted’s shoulder and jerked him backwards, the anger quickly faded and nothing was left but deception.

“One chance. I swear, DiBiase, just one chance. If you dare do anything to him, I’ll personally kill you.” Randy’s voice was filled with determination and certainty and sweat ran down Randy’s forehead and Ted DiBiase’s eyes struck fear as he slowly, oh so slowly, nodded his head.

“Good.”

______________________

Imprinted
on skin.

Tattoos.

Of the unforgotten.

Marked on heart.

Tattoos.

Of the darkness.

Marked on Ted.

Tattoos.

Of Cody’s shadows.

(I’m sorry, Ted)

Tattoos.

Of Cody’s horror.

(I can’t run away either)

_______________________

Ted just can’t believe it.

My best friend…

Turned on him.

Now, he knew what Randy Orton felt like.

Betrayed.

Seeking revenge.

Just feeling the sweet taste of it at the tip of his tongue.

Cody, why?

He just didn’t know why he said it.

____________________

All’s dead.

All’s gone.

All’s left to gain.

__________________

Edge’s hard brown eyes were soothed at the vivid image of Jeff and Punk being beaten down by Cody Rhodes in an instant.

The forcefulness, the ferocity, the rage, and the wrath as he threw Punk towards Jeff Hardy. The hardened mass of darkness in Cody’s eyes had sent a chill up Edge’s spine. Talent was smeared all over the Rhodes’ boy and Edge knew it. He can go somewhere… he stepped towards Legacy’s locker room and saw the bits and pieces of the champagne bottle on the floor.

Alcohol.

That was Cody’s trigger. His eyes went up to Ted DiBiase, standing stiff and still, not noticing Edge’s presence as Edge smirked.

What would happen if he got Ted DiBiase drunk?

_____________________

I’m sorry.

(Sorry won’t cut it)

It’s…it’s…

(What is it Cody?)

I’m all messed up.

(You’re always messed up!)

I swear I’ll make this up to you.

(MAKE IT UP TO ME!? You saw what Randy did.)

I’m sorry

(You saw what Randy did…)

All my fault.

(Always was)

You’re cutting me to the edge, Ted.

(You know that sorry doesn’t cut it, Cody)

________________________

Cody’s eyes fluttered open.

The terrible horrible terrifying nightmare had struck Cody hard in his head. He didn’t want to think of Ted. They had returned to the locker room, after Randy had insisted on bandaging all of his body from cuts of nightmares and bruises of c-c-cold dust and dead skin from the returning from the horrifying playground that used to be a made of dreams, to find no sign of Ted anywhere.

And it hurt Cody more than anything to know how he’d broken his best friend. How he’d broken his tag team partner into smoldering rubble and he didn’t know how to fix this mistake. He didn’t know where Ted was and feared for where he was. And he didn’t know how to sleep.

He stood up from his bed and walked towards where Ted slept, on the couch, he sat down onto the couch, wedged between the blankets and the pillows, feeling alone and sinking into darkness and he didn’t know if he can breathe. He didn’t feel close to Ted at all.

Just more and more away.

You’re so disappointing, Cody.

The voices banged through his head, reminding him of how he’d flung out of the car, of how he’d hurt and scraped and bled when Randy found him hours later and all he could feel was the air around him, and he felt as if the air was truly Ted DiBiase ready to suffocate him.

You should be dead right now for how you’ve hurt Ted.

______________________________

Deception
.

Deception was biting up Ted DiBiase’s heart.

And he didn’t know what to do next.

Because he had no one to guide him.

And no one to follow him.

Just all alone.

Deceived.


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