Chapter Text
I used to be someone else. I look back on the hours and hours of footage of my life, and see what I used to be. I don’t recognize that person at all. That person had something in him that I’ve lost. He had a family, friends, a purpose. He walked differently, he talked differently. I’ve always had my issues, but the old me used to thrive, like a bright coneflower bush in the middle of December. The person I’ve become though… I could only really describe that as struggling.
Some things are still the same, though. I’m still known as “Hangman” Adam Page. The crowd still chants “Cowboy Shit!” when I’m doing well. I still use the same moves when I wrestle, even if my eyes light up with something other than excitement and exhilaration now. No, when I watch my newer footage back, I see one emotion, and one only: Rage. And it is endless.
I thought that the Lights Out match, what I did to Swerve… I thought that would have made things return to normal for me. I got what I wanted, but in doing so I was changed - maybe forever. I guess it was foolish of me to think I could ever get my old life back. It was foolish of me to think I could truly free myself of him.
I’m still burdened by him, by what I’ve done. It’s always with me, and it’s like a poison, a disease. It’s something that keeps me away from everything and everyone I used to know, and I’ll be honest: I don’t know how to change that. At this point, I’m not even sure I want to. At least now I know what I am. Because what I am now is very simple: I am a fist aimed at the next jaw. I am a chain tightening around the next windpipe. I’m a cinderblock in the next back, I’m a needle piercing the next cheek, and I’m a chair shot–!
But let’s not go there.
At the very least, I can stop myself from feeding into it more than I already do. Though it’s hard not to, when I see him so often. He pulled himself together relatively quickly, but even I can tell he’s not whole. He’s not quite the same person he was before me, either. Once or twice we’ve locked eyes backstage, only for milliseconds, and then he’s always the one loping away with this look on his face like… Like I’m just a ghost he pretends he doesn’t see.
The wrestler in me knows that look. That look tells me whatever this thing is between us, it’s not over. The problem is that he doesn’t know how to get me back. Not yet. The day Swerve Strickland locks eyes with me and doesn’t turn away is the day I should fear for my life. And I can feel it coming. The only question is when.
At the end of 2024, Swerve had his attention turned to yet another enemy, someone he surely figured he would have an easier time with than The Hurt Syndicate. I watched on the backstage monitors at World’s End as he stood at the top of the ramp and shoot-named Ricochet once again. A searing jolt of anger raced through me. I swallowed it down. Swerve still had no fucking respect for people’s personal lives, it seemed, but that wasn’t really my problem anymore.
Swerve’s segment devolved into him counting the crowd down to the climax of tossing toilet paper rolls at Ricochet as the latter stood alone in the middle of the ring and just took it. The man looked somehow both devastated and completely numb as it happened, and I shook my head in pity at the asinine display of humiliation. It was an ugly, petty overreaction on Swerve’s part, and I was sure he would be getting more than he bargained for in reply from Ricochet some time soon. But again, not my problem.
“Oooh!” A voice purred, far too close to my ear. I reflexively flinched away from its source, and turned to come face to face with Jay Fucking White. Wonderful.
I took a deep breath and fixed him with a stony glare. As reactive as I had become, I knew it was best to play stoic with this guy as much as was humanly possible. Jay and I had a long history between us, but it wasn’t a pleasant one, and I didn’t relish the opportunity to interact with him one bit. In short: he was a dick, and I didn’t like him.
He had that characteristically perverted look in his eye, and a grin on his face as he stared me down. He had his hair half pulled back, the length of it draped along his leather clad shoulders. He was showing bare chest under his jacket, and below he was sporting his classic tally mark wrestling gear. He gestured to the monitors and to Swerve’s gleaming gold smile.
“Catching up on what your ex is up to, are we, Adam? Can’t help but stalk him a bit? You really must miss him! I suppose I would, too, in your situation. I would definitely romanticize the last feud I was in where I could actually win a match against the other guy every now and then!” Jay grinned cruelly, the expression crinkling the skin around his dark, blue-green eyes. Eyes that jumped minutely left and right as he studied my face for any reaction, any indication that his provocation was working. I gave him none.
“Oh, but Adam, you should focus on our match tonight, right? We’re the Main Event!” Jay continued, his voice rising in volume to a truly ear-splitting level. I couldn’t stop myself from wincing in irritation, and Jay took it as a sign to up the ante, get me to crack. I honestly think he gets off on being annoying. He took a quick step or two closer to me, invading my space as his eyes bored into mine. He was wearing some kind of musky, pine scented cologne that I didn’t entirely hate, and the closer he got the better it smelled. I could feel my resolve weakening.
“Focus on me, would you?” Jay crooned as he pressed in. I crossed my arms in front of my chest to create some kind of barrier between us, but remained rooted to the spot as he slithered in close. His face loomed mere inches from mine until our foreheads touched. Jay stared at me. I stared right back. Finally, he puckered his lips, and they stopped a hair’s breadth away from mine before he air kissed me, his lips smacking softly.
I turned my head away with a huff, and took a step back. Jay released a triumphant peal of laughter. “Ahhh, I’m surprised at you, Adam! I’ve never known you to be the first to back down from a homoerotically charged moment of intimidation! Maybe you’re still feeling loyal to your home invading ex, after all. That’s so sweet–!”
“Shut the fuck up, Jay!” I barked out, shoving him away, finally having enough of his pine-scented mind game bullshit.
But Jay was laughing his hardest yet. The shove made him stumble, but his mirth appeared to have affected him the most. He was doubled over when Orange Cassidy appeared in the doorway behind him. Orange took a beat to survey the situation, shook his head, and simply walked off. I didn’t blame him at all. Any chance to avoid an encounter with “Switchblade” Jay White should be taken wherever possible, and everyone knew it.
With one last sneer at Jay, I stepped out of the room as well. I decided to go the opposite direction Orange had gone. I just wanted to go somewhere to be alone for a little while, but I realized too late that my wandering had brought me close to gorilla. My eyes locked on a figure making his way down the stairs, and I froze.
Big black coat, long black hair, dark skin, golden grin. Swerve. I remained mostly in shadow, but Swerve’s head swiveled my direction anyway, and the grin melted off of his face at the sight of me.
It took him a few extra beats than usual to look away, but he did so as he continued striding in the opposite direction. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and felt my heart pounding in my chest.
I thought the moment had passed, but Swerve abruptly paused. Keeping his back to me, he inclined only his head in my direction. All I could see was a bit of his profile peeking from behind the locs of his hair. I stood there waiting for something to happen, my eyes roaming over his form, but I didn’t dare to move, to speak.
“Keep away from me.” He threatened finally, in a low, quiet voice. It was a tone I hadn't heard him use often. Without waiting for a reply, he resumed his stroll as if nothing had happened, and disappeared around a corner.
I sighed and raked my hands through my hair before turning on my heel and making for the nearest exit door. Everywhere I turned, some ghost of my past seemed to be there waiting. Just appearing to remind me that there was no escaping, that there was no way around. I couldn’t avoid, I couldn’t simply endure. The only way out was through.
Truth be told, I didn’t know if I had enough in me to make it. It was hard, really fucking hard, to keep going with the hope that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for me. From what I could tell, every time I thought I had fallen as far as I possibly could, the floor gave way beneath me and I sank lower still. I found myself becoming more brutal, more crazed, more aimless, more ostracized…
In the end, I guess the important thing was that I never really gave up. Even if my course was unclear, I kept fighting, I kept moving.
It was all I could do, and truth be told, it wasn't all bad. There were some moments of solace for me…
I found myself out in the loading area where all the vehicles and freight trailers were parked. The place was most often abuzz with chaos and the moving of heavy equipment, but since the show was already in full swing the area was pretty deserted. It was also late in the year, the sun had already set, and the sky was a dark mix of deep blue and purple. I could even see a few stars sprinkled across the darkest patch of sky directly above me. I took a deep breath as I gazed up at them, missing my garden at home at that particular moment.
I walked a few paces around the corner of a trailer when I practically tripped over a pair of blue jean clad legs. It was Orange. He was sitting along the side of the freight trailer on the concrete floor, and he peered wordlessly up at me from behind the nearly opaque black shades he wore.
I wasn’t sure why he was there, or how I ended up wandering pretty much right to him, but he was a welcome sight. We didn’t speak much, but Orange Cassidy’s presence had a calming effect on me. He often seemed to be around when I was close to losing it, and he never really cared what kind of state I was in.
I decided to park it next to him, sitting close enough that our thighs touched. That finally prompted him to speak, lowering his shades and curling an eyebrow up at me. “I thought you didn’t like to do “stuff” before you wrestled?” He said slowly, a gentle teasing in his voice. It was nothing like the way Jay teased, nor Swerve. Orange never got me worked up in that way, but he could definitely get my blood pumping. More importantly, he could distract me, if even just for a few minutes, from whatever torment I was going through.
I reached out and took his sunglasses, folding them and setting them to the side before I leaned in toward him. I grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him close as I pressed my lips firmly to his. As if somehow sensing the intensity of my need more than even I had, he immediately moved closer, swinging his leg over mine to straddle my hips as we continued to kiss. He nibbled at my lower lip, ran his hands up my sides and over my pecs. I was hard almost instantly, and I rolled my hips up to grind myself against him.
“Moving pretty fast today…” He mumbled between increasingly urgent kisses.
“Shh..” Was all I said in reply before I grabbed him by the jaw, tilted his head back, and sank my teeth into his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin or even hurt, but I could feel the pressure of his pulse point between my teeth and I licked a stripe against it as I held him there.
His body jolted in response and a soft whimper escaped him. His cock was pressing back insistently against mine at that point, straining against the fabric of his pants.
“Stand up.” I told him, not unkindly, and he did so. I pushed him chest first into the side of the freight trailer, and let my hands roam over his body before I grabbed at the waistband of his pants and began to pull them down. Normally, I wouldn’t pull them all the way off, but I was feeling strange, like I needed something more this time.
I helped him step all the way out of his clothes, and he looked back at me over his shoulder as I went to my knees behind him. I grabbed his ass cheeks with both hands and squeezed.
“What are you doing?” He asked. I didn’t reply, but just stared up at him as I slowly moved in to gently bite his ass. He gasped, and his cock jumped. A good sign, he might just like this.
“Hold still.” I instructed as I spread his cheeks and let my tongue flick against his tight, pink hole.
Orange let out a choked sound, clearly shocked, but he didn’t move away or tell me to stop. I kept going, flicking my tongue around his hole in wet, sloppy circles. The taste was a bit unexpected, but not unpleasant, and the act satisfied some strange desire for recklessness or danger in my brain. I guess when life gets too tough, do some weird sexual shit you’ve never done before. Helps clear the mind.
I ended up getting pretty immersed in tasting him, my tongue lashing at him over and over until I felt like pressing the tip against his entrance as hard as I could, partially penetrating him. He let out a low, frustrated groan at that, and I figured he was ready for more. I grabbed him by the hips and spun him around to look at his face. “What did you think?” I asked, wiping my lips.
“Uh…” He panted. “That was…Something else.” He was a man of few words, but his cheeks were flushed, and his pupils looked completely blown. His cock twitched, kicking upward, and I moved forward and took it into my mouth in one fluid motion. I was hoping to elicit another shocked and pleasured cry from Orange. He didn’t disappoint. I sucked him until I felt like he was about to blow, then quickly got to my feet, spun him around, pulled my gear down and lined myself up before I drove my cock into that teased asshole of his.
And oh, how vocal I could make him when I really wanted to. His sweet moans and sighs filled the air around us as I thrust into him slowly at first, and then harder and faster. The sound of my hips snapping against his ass eventually became even louder than his cries until suddenly his cock popped like a bottle of champagne and his ass clenched around my cock again and again as he came. I spilled myself inside him with a groan and leaned into him, pressing my chest into his back.
We stayed like that for a few moments before I kissed the back of his neck and slowly pulled out. We didn’t really have anything to clean up with, so Orange offered me his shirt. I wiped myself down before helping him out, too, and I kicked the soiled cloth under the trailer. Orange pulled a face at me.
“What?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “It’s just a T shirt, I’ll find you a new one.”
“Whatever you say, Hangman.” Orange replied, drawing out the last word. “I guess I’m going to go… Take a shower, or something.” He muttered, and departed without another word. It was always how he left after these encounters. In a lot of ways, he was the perfect person to hook up with. He never really wanted to talk, didn’t seem to care when or where we did it, and made himself scarce as soon as it was over.
I chose a spot on the concrete floor and took a seat, wanting to make the peace and relative tranquility of my afterglow last as long as possible. I’d gotten some ass, I hadn’t punched anyone in the face backstage, and I was going to be part of the main event match later that night.
It was as close to thriving as I was going to get.