angel @onlyangel4 - Tumblr Blog

i remember everything about you. ethan page. language of love series

softdark!ethan page x sunshine!reader

warnings: ethan is obsessed but in like a cute way. loss of a childhood dog (because i can't write anything without breaking someone's heart)

acts of service

The first thing you noticed when you stepped through the loading bay doors was the smell. Fresh coffee. Someone had already started making popcorn somewhere near production. The faint scent of hairspray drifted from the direction of hair and make-up, home. Every Monday somehow smelled exactly the same. A grin spread across your face as you adjusted the strap of your overnight bag and bounced further into the arena. "Morning!" A referee returning from Gorilla waved back. One of the camera operators called your name. Someone from production wished you luck for your backstage interview later that afternoon. You greeted every single one of them with the same bright smile. You loved Mondays. Even after years with WWE, walking into an arena still felt exciting. Like the first day of school, except everyone wore championship belts instead of backpacks.

"Morning, sunshine." You turned at the familiar voice. Ethan leaned casually against one of the production crates, hands tucked into the pockets of his black hoodie. Well, one hand was. The other held a cardboard coffee tray. Your favourite coffee. A paper bag from the little café outside the hotel. Your laminated backstage schedule and your credentials clipped neatly to the top. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling even wider. "There you are!" You crossed the remaining distance in quick steps before wrapping your arms around his neck. He caught you automatically, one arm settling comfortably around your waist while somehow managing not to spill either coffee. "Morning, baby." His voice softened in a way it only ever seemed to around you. He kissed your forehead first. Then the tip of your nose. Finally your lips. Just a gentle, lingering kiss that made you smile against him. "You've been here ages." "I got here early." "You always get here early." "I know." You pulled back just enough to notice everything balanced in his hands. "You brought breakfast." "You skipped dinner." Your eyebrows lifted. "I did?" "You got distracted helping the social team edit videos." "I did." He smiled. "So I brought breakfast."

He held the paper bag out towards you. Warm blueberry muffin. Greek yoghurt with honey. The little pot of strawberries you always picked the fruit out of first. Even the tiny wooden spoon. You looked up at him. "You remembered strawberries." "You always eat those first." "You notice everything." "I try." Your heart positively melted. "I love you." "I know." He said it so naturally, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to betray how happy those three words still made him. "I love you too." You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you." "You don't have to thank me." "I know." You accepted your coffee instead. "Oh! cinnamon!" "I remembered." "You always remember."

"Yo!" The unmistakable voice of Jey Uso echoed down the corridor before you even saw him. He wandered over with that permanently amused grin plastered across his face. "You two disgust me." You gasped dramatically. "We've literally said hello." "Exactly." He pointed accusingly between the two of you. "Whole Disney movie every Monday." "It was one kiss." "It was like four kisses." "I was saying good morning." "You were saying good morning for about five business days." You laughed. "You jealous?" "Nah." He looked at Ethan. "I'm judging." Ethan simply smiled. "I've survived worse."

Jey's eyes dropped to everything Ethan was carrying. "You carrying her bag too?" Ethan looked down. The overnight bag hanging comfortably from his shoulder. "Yeah." Jey blinked. "She got arms?" You immediately burst into laughter. "I do actually." Ethan looked genuinely confused by the question. "I know." Jey waited. "...Then why?" Ethan shrugged lightly. "Because she doesn't have to." Silence. Jey stared at him for a second before slowly looking at you. "You hear this man?" You were too busy smiling at your boyfriend to notice the look on Jey's face. "What?" "He's carrying your whole life." "I didn't ask him to."

You looked back at Ethan. "You don't have to carry my bag, you know." "I know." "You always do. You'll end up with back problems." He smiled. "I'll risk it." You rolled your eyes fondly before reaching over to straighten the hood of his sweatshirt where it had folded awkwardly beneath the strap of your bag. "You are ridiculous." Jey looked between the two of you again. "...Y'all are weird." "We're adorable." "You weird."

The three of you walked further backstage together. Well you and Jey walked. Ethan matched your pace exactly, coffee tray balanced effortlessly in one hand while your overnight bag remained slung over his shoulder. Halfway down the corridor you suddenly stopped. "Oh!" Both men stopped immediately. "What?" You looked between them. "...Did I leave my phone in the hotel room?" Jey sighed dramatically. "You don't know?" "I genuinely can't remember." You started rummaging through the pockets of your hoodie. Nothing. Your jeans. Nothing. You frowned. "Oh no" Ethan quietly reached into the front pocket of your overnight bag. "You put it in here." He handed it to you. You blinked. "I did?" "You asked me to." "When?" "This morning." You thought for a moment. "...I have absolutely no memory of that." "I know." You laughed, shaking your head before slipping the phone into your hoodie pocket. "See?" You nudged Jey. "This is why I keep him around." Ethan's smile softened. "As if I'd let you lose it." "You spoil me." "I know." "And I love it." "I know." Jey groaned loud enough to make two members of production look over. "I can't. You two are givin' me cavities."

A few minutes later you reached the women's locker room. You took your coffee from Ethan before turning towards the door. Then paused. "Oh." "What?" You looked sheepishly back at him. "...Can I have my bag?" Without a word, Ethan slipped it carefully from his shoulder and handed it over. You accepted it with a grin before giving him one last quick kiss. "I'll come find you after hair and make-up." "I'll be in production." "I know." "If anything changes—" "You'll text me." He smiled. "I already printed the updated schedule." You laughed. "Of course you did." He watched you disappear into the locker room before finally turning away himself. The smile never quite left his face. Across the corridor, Jey watched the whole exchange unfold with folded arms. "Page." Ethan looked over. "Hm?" "You know" Jey nodded towards the locker room door. "I ain't never seen somebody so happy to play personal assistant." For the first time that morning, Ethan's smile changed. Not bigger. Not smaller. Just quieter. More certain. "I like taking care of her." There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in his voice. No embarrassment. No defensiveness. Just simple, unwavering certainty. Jey studied him for another moment before shaking his head with a chuckle. ".You somethin' else, man." Ethan only glanced once more towards the locker room door. Making sure you'd gone inside safely. Only then did he continue down the corridor. Completely content. After all, you'd arrived, you'd eaten breakfast, you had your coffee, your phone hadn't been forgotten, your schedule was already sorted. Everything you needed for the day had been taken care of. Exactly as it should be.

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The women's locker room had somehow become louder in the fifteen minutes since you'd walked in. Music played from someone's speaker in the corner, hairdryers whirred. Maxxine was enthusiastically explaining a new TikTok trend to Lyra, who looked equal parts intrigued and horrified. Bayley was trying and failing to drink her coffee before it went cold. You dropped your overnight bag beside your locker with a satisfied sigh. "I made it." Lyra looked over. "Barely." "I was exactly on time." "You were." She nodded towards the corridor. "Because your boyfriend practically escorted you to the door." You laughed. "He didn't escort me." "He absolutely did." "He walked me here." "Same thing." You opened your mouth to argue before deciding, She wasn't entirely wrong. "Maybe a little." Maxxine smiled over at you. "It's cute." "It is cute." "You've got your own little routine." You smiled to yourself as you opened your bag. "We do."

You reached inside. Your make-up bag. Notebook. Wallet. Portable charger. Hairbrush. Everything sat perfectly organised inside. You smiled. "Ethan packed my bag again." Maxxine blinked. "He packed your bag?" "Mhm." Lyra looked up from tying her boots. "He does that every week?" "Oh yeah." You sounded completely matter-of-fact. "If I pack it, I always forget something." "So he just" You shrugged. "does it." You smiled as you unzipped the front pocket. "My lip balm's even in the little side pouch." "You sound impressed." "I am." "He knows where everything goes better than I do." Lyra laughed. "I don't know whether that's adorable..." She paused. "...or slightly concerning." You grinned. "I vote adorable."

Hair and make-up came and went in a blur. By the time you wandered back towards your locker almost an hour later, you'd somehow accumulated three bottles of water, two packets of sweets from catering and a tiny crocheted frog that one of the production assistants had insisted on giving you. You held the frog up proudly. "Look!" Maxxine smiled immediately. "Oh my gosh." "It's tiny." "I know!" "It has a little hat!" "I know!" You carefully placed it on top of your bag. "He needs a name." Lyra glanced over. "You've known him twelve seconds." "But he deserves an identity." "You are impossible." "I've accepted that."

Your phone buzzed.

Ethan Production meeting finished early. Outside in five? You smiled without thinking.

You See you in five Lyra noticed immediately. "Ethan?" You laughed as you slipped your phone into your hoodie pocket. "I'll be back in a bit."

True to his word, Ethan was already waiting outside the locker room. One coffee in each hand. He smiled the second he saw you. He kissed your temple before handing over your coffee. "Cinnamon." "You remembered." "I always remember." You took a grateful sip. "It's still hot." "I timed it." "You timed my coffee?" "I know how long it takes you to finish hair and make-up." You blinked. "...You actually timed it." "So it'd still be warm." Your heart did that ridiculous little flip it always seemed to do around him. "You are unbelievable." You slipped your free hand into his. "I missed you." He smiled. "It was forty-eight minutes." "I know. I still missed you." "I missed you too."

The two of you wandered slowly through the backstage corridors, talking about absolutely nothing. A funny sign you'd spotted in the loading bay. A dog video Ethan had seen online that morning. Whether the tiny crocheted frog suited the name Kevin. It was wonderfully ordinary. Comfortable. Until "Oh!" You stopped walking. "What?" "My notebook." You looked down at yourself. "I left it in the locker room." "You need it now?" "Mhm." "I've got my interview with Cathy in twenty minutes." Before you'd even finished speaking, Ethan had already turned around. "I'll get it." You reached for his sleeve. "Babe, it's okay. I can go. I literally just forgot it." "I know but let me look after you." He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll be two minutes." Before you could protest again, he'd disappeared back down the corridor. You sighed fondly. "He never lets me do anything."

"You know..." The voice beside you made you jump. Sami had somehow appeared carrying a protein shake. "I've noticed something." You smiled. "Morning, Sami." "Morning." He nodded in the direction Ethan had disappeared. "He always does that." "What?" "You barely finish saying you've forgotten something..." He snapped his fingers. "...and he's already fixing it." You laughed softly. "I know." "It must be nice." "It is." You meant it. Completely. Sami smiled. "I'm glad." But there was something thoughtful behind his eyes. Something he didn't quite voice. Instead he simply asked, "So..." He took a sip of his drink. "...when was the last time you actually had to solve one of those little problems yourself?" You frowned. "I don't know." You genuinely couldn't remember.

Before you had time to think any harder about it, Ethan was already walking back towards you. Your notebook tucked neatly under one arm. "You also left your pen." He held that out too. You stared. "I didn't even realise." You accepted both with a sheepish smile. "You are actually magic." "No." His voice was quiet. "I just pay attention." Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him properly this time. Not a quick peck. A soft, lingering kiss that made him smile against your lips. "Thank you." "You don't have to thank me." "I know but I like to."

As the two of you walked away towards your interview, Sami remained where he was. Bayley joined him a moment later, folding her arms. "You thinking the same thing I am?" Sami looked after the two of you. Ethan had unconsciously matched your pace again. Your coffee had somehow migrated into his free hand while his other rested lightly against the small of your back as he guided you around a stack of production crates. He wasn't steering you. He was simply there. Always there. Sami exhaled slowly. "He's a good boyfriend." Bayley nodded. "He is." A beat of silence. Then she added quietly, "I just don't think she realises how much he does for her." Sami's eyes followed Ethan as he reached over and, without interrupting your conversation, gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from where it had caught on the strap of your visitor's pass. You didn't even seem to notice he'd done it. You just kept talking, smiling up at him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that was exactly what worried them.

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The hotel room was quiet. The curtains had only just begun to let the early morning sunlight creep through the gaps, painting soft golden lines across the carpet. It was peaceful. Still. The only sound came from the faint hum of the air conditioning and your slow, even breathing from the bed behind him. Ethan smiled to himself. You never woke up quietly. Not once. Every morning began exactly the same, you'd roll over, bury your face back into the pillow, mumble something completely unintelligible, then insist you weren't tired while falling asleep again almost immediately. He'd learnt the routine months ago. Just like he'd learnt all the others.

Without thinking, he reached for your phone on the bedside table, twenty-three percent. Too low. He plugged it into the charger before setting it back exactly where you'd left it. The screen lit up briefly. A picture of the two of you from the previous week's Raw filled the lock screen. You were laughing so hard your eyes were closed, his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. He couldn't remember what had made you laugh. He just remembered wanting to hear it again. His smile softened. Cute.

Next job was water. Your bottle from the night before sat almost empty. He quietly carried it into the bathroom, emptied what little remained and refilled it with fresh cold water before placing it back beside your side of the bed. Exactly where your hand would reach for it when you woke up. You always drank water before coffee. Unless you forgot. Which happened fairly often. He'd rather you didn't.

The wardrobe door opened without a sound. Today's outfit already hung neatly together. The oversized cream hoodie you'd mentioned wanting to wear the night before, your favourite black cargos, the trainers you'd spent ten minutes searching for before he'd remembered you'd left them by the hotel door, matching socks, even the little silver earrings shaped like stars that always seemed to find their way into the washing machine somehow. He set them carefully on the bedside table. Easy. Everything together. You wouldn't have to search.

The coffee machine clicked quietly as it finished brewing. He poured your coffee into the travel cup you'd brought from home. Oat milk, one sugar, extra cinnamon. Always extra cinnamon. He smiled faintly. You'd once joked that if someone forgot the cinnamon, they didn't really love you. You'd been laughing. He hadn't. He'd made a point of never forgetting it again.

The bed shifted behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. You hadn't woken. You'd simply rolled closer to his side of the bed, reaching instinctively towards the space he'd left behind. His chest tightened. For a second, he simply stood there watching you. Even asleep. you looked peaceful, safe. Good. He crossed the room quietly before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. The movement was enough to make you stir. A sleepy little noise escaped you. "Babe?" "I'm here." Your eyes barely opened. "You got up." "Mhm." "What time is it?" "Too early." You smiled without opening your eyes properly. "M'kay." You reached blindly for him. He chuckled softly before taking your hand. Immediately you relaxed again. "There you are" "I'm here." "I know" Your thumb lazily brushed across the back of his hand. "You always are" His heart swelled. Always. That was the idea.

Another few minutes passed before you finally opened one eye. "Morning." "Morning." You smiled sleepily. "You look pretty." He laughed quietly. "I've literally just woken up." "I know." "You're biased." "I know." You pushed yourself upright with an exaggerated groan before immediately reaching for your water bottle. "Cold." "I refilled it." "Thank you." A long drink. Followed by a content little sigh. "You're amazing." His eyes never left you. "I'm glad."

You shuffled out of bed, still rubbing sleep from your eyes. Immediately spotting your outfit waiting for you. "Oh." You looked back at him. "You picked today's clothes." "You said you wanted to wear the cream hoodie." You laughed softly. "I swear you remember everything." He shrugged. "I remember you." Those four words landed with far more weight than he intended. Your entire expression softened. You crossed the room without another word and wrapped your arms around his waist. "I love you." He rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I love you too." You stayed there for another few moments, simply enjoying the quiet before the chaos of another Monday began. Then you pulled back just enough to smile up at him. "Seriously you make my life so much easier." His smile was small. Content. Exactly the kind of smile someone wore after hearing they'd done a good job. "Good." You blinked. "What?" "I want it to be easy." You reached up to smooth an imaginary crease from the front of his T-shirt. "It doesn't have to be your job to look after me all the time." "I know." "You already do so much." "I know." "So why?" The question seemed to genuinely surprise him. He looked at you for a long moment before answering, his voice as calm and certain as ever. "Because every minute you spend looking for your charger" He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "or your shoes" Another tiny smile. "or wondering if you've remembered everything" His thumb brushed softly across your cheek. "is a minute you could've spent smiling instead." Silence settled between you. Not uncomfortable. Just quiet. You looked at him with that familiar warmth in your eyes, the kind that always made him feel like he'd done something right. Then you leaned up onto your tiptoes and kissed him, slow and affectionate. When you pulled away, you smiled. "I really, really love you." Ethan smiled back just as softly. "I know." Because in his mind, there was nothing strange about any of it. Loving you meant taking care of you. Taking care of you meant noticing the little things. And noticing the little things meant you never had to carry them alone. To him it was the simplest thing in the world.

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The evening air was cool against your skin as you stepped out through the arena doors after the show. Raw had finally wrapped. The crowd was beginning to thin, though a small group of dedicated fans still waited patiently behind the barricades near the talent exit, hoping for photos or autographs before everyone headed back to the hotel. You smiled the second you spotted them. "Oh!" Ethan looked over. "They're still here." "There aren't many." "There are enough." You squeezed his hand. "Can we go say hello?" He looked towards the fans. Then back at you. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I thought you'd ask." You laughed. "I'll be quick." "You don't have to rush."

The moment the fans realised you'd walked over, excited chatter broke out. "Y/N!" "Can we get a picture?" "I loved your match!" "You looked amazing tonight!" You beamed. "Hi, guys!" You moved slowly down the barricade, making sure nobody felt skipped. You signed programmes. Posed for selfies. Accepted a friendship bracelet from a little girl wearing one of your T-shirts. "Oh my goodness..." You crouched down slightly to admire it. "You made this?" The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "I made one for you too!" Your face immediately softened. "You made me one?" She carefully tied the colourful bracelet around your wrist. Pink. Yellow. Little white beads spelling your name. You admired it dramatically. "I think this might be my new favourite thing." The little girl giggled. Her mum smiled. "She's been making those all week." "Well" You held your wrist up proudly. "I'm never taking it off."

A few feet away, Ethan watched quietly. Hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He didn't interrupt. Didn't hover. He simply stayed close enough that if you looked around he'd be there. Exactly where you expected him. You'd almost reached the end of the line when a man stepped forward. He looked to be somewhere in his forties. Wearing an old WWE hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. "Hey."

You smiled politely. "Hi!" "Can I get a selfie?" "Of course." You stepped beside him, lifting his phone. Click. "There you go." Instead of moving aside He stayed exactly where he was. "Actually..." He smiled. "Can we do another one?" "Oh." You nodded. "Sure." Another photo. "There." "One more?" You laughed politely. "Third time lucky?" He moved closer this time. Close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. You instinctively shifted half a step away. He simply followed. "You smell nice." Your smile faltered. Just for a fraction of a second. "Thank you." "What's that perfume?" "Oh..." You laughed awkwardly. "I honestly couldn't tell you." He chuckled. "I'll figure it out."

Something about the way he said it made a tiny knot form in your stomach. You looked past him. The rest of the line had almost disappeared. Most of the other fans had started making their way home. "It's getting late," you said gently. "I should probably" "You heading back to the hotel?" The question stopped you. "Excuse me?" "I've seen the buses." He smiled again. "I know where they park." The knot tightened. You forced another polite smile. "Well I've got to get going." "You always leave through this exit?" You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. For the first time all evening you didn't quite know what to say.

A familiar warmth settled against your back. Strong. Steady. Comforting. An arm wrapped lightly around your waist. Not possessive, protective. You didn't even have to look up. Your shoulders relaxed instantly. Ethan's voice was calm. Almost cheerful. "I've been looking everywhere for you." You leaned into him without thinking. "There was still a little queue." "I saw." He smiled down at you before looking back at the man. His expression remained perfectly pleasant. "Thank you for supporting her." The man looked between the two of you. "Oh. I was just talking." "I know." Ethan's smile never wavered. "We appreciate everyone who comes out." There was something about the way he said we that made it abundantly clear the conversation was over. The man hesitated. Then finally stepped backwards. "Right." "Have a good night." "You too."

Ethan didn't look away until the man had disappeared into the car park. Only then did he turn back towards you. "You okay?" You blinked. Then laughed quietly. "Yeah." "You sure?" "Mhm." You frowned thoughtfully. "He was just a little..." You searched for the word. "...enthusiastic." Ethan's thumb gently rubbed against your side where his hand still rested. "You looked uncomfortable." "Did I?" "You smiled differently." You blinked. "I did?" He nodded once. "The real one doesn't reach your eyes when you're trying to be polite." You stared at him for a second. Then smiled. A proper smile this time. "You know me too well." "I know." He leaned down to kiss your forehead. "C'mon." "I've got your hoodie in the car." "My hoodie?" "You said you'd be cold after the show." You squeezed his hand affectionately. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Ethan glanced down at your intertwined fingers. His expression softened. "You won't have to." You smiled, hearing nothing but love in his voice.

Behind you, unnoticed, Rhea had just stepped out of the arena with Lyra. She'd caught only the last few moments, the way Ethan had appeared almost instantly, the way your shoulders had visibly relaxed the second he touched you, and the way the fan had backed off without another word. She watched the pair of you walk towards the waiting rental cars. "Hm." Lyra looked over. "What?" Rhea kept her eyes on Ethan. "Nothing." But she wasn't convinced it was nothing. Because Ethan hadn't rushed over when the fan got close. He'd walked. Slowly, calmly. As though he'd already decided exactly how the conversation was going to end. And somehow it had.

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Three days later, the Raw roster found themselves scattered throughout the departures terminal at Chicago O'Hare. Some people had headphones on. Others were still half-asleep, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. Jey and Sami were locked in an argument over whether airport breakfasts were ever worth the price. Maxxine was trying to convince Lyra to take photos in one of the souvenir shops. You, on the other hand had wandered off. Again.

"Where's Y/N?" Jey looked around the seating area. Sami didn't even lift his head from his book. "Gift shop." "You know that?" "She's been gone six minutes." "So?" "So she found something shiny." Jey laughed. "Fair."

Sure enough, you stood halfway down one of the little airport shops, completely enchanted by a display of plush toys. "There you are." You looked over your shoulder, smiling the second you spotted Ethan. "Babe." "You disappeared." "I texted you." "You sent me a duck emoji." "I was giving you clues." He chuckled, stopping beside you. "You were." You turned back to the display. "Look." He followed your gaze. Nestled between teddy bears and keyrings sat a tiny plush Highland cow. It wore a little tartan scarf around its neck. Its fluffy fringe completely covered its eyes. You picked it up carefully. "Oh my goodness he's adorable." Ethan watched the way your entire face lit up. You turned the toy over in your hands. "You've got little horns." Your thumb brushed gently over one of them. "And fluffy ears." You smiled to yourself. "I love him." "You should get him." You looked at the price tag. "Twenty-two dollars?" You pulled a face. "I don't love him that much." Ethan smiled faintly. "No?" "I can't justify twenty-two dollars on a tiny cow." "You've spent more on coffee." "That's different." "How?" "Coffee is essential." "And this isn't?" You laughed. "It absolutely isn't." Reluctantly, you placed the plush back onto the shelf. "Bye, little guy." Ethan watched you wave at it. Actually wave. Then you sighed dramatically before turning away. "C'mon we've got a flight to catch."

Twenty minutes later, you were curled up in one of the airport seats waiting to board. Your head rested comfortably against Ethan's shoulder while you scrolled aimlessly through videos on your phone. Jey wandered over carrying two overpriced coffees. "Yo." You looked up. "Hi." He nodded towards the gift shop. "You buy the cow?" You gasped dramatically. "You knew about the cow?" "Whole terminal knew about the cow." "I loved him." "So why ain't he here?" "He was twenty-two dollars." Jey nodded solemnly. "That's criminal." "Exactly." "I hope he finds a good home." "You mourning a stuffed animal?" "I barely knew him" You sighed. "but yes." Jey laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. Ethan stayed quiet beside you. Listening. Watching. Smiling to himself.

By the time your flight landed in Louisville later that afternoon, you'd completely forgotten about the Highland cow. There had been luggage to collect. Rental cars to organise. Three separate delays. By the time you finally climbed into Ethan's car the cow was the furthest thing from your mind.

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The following Monda backstage at Raw. You wandered into the production office balancing two coffees and a paper bag full of pastries. "Morning!" A chorus of greetings met you. You carefully placed everything down before spotting Ethan walking towards you. He leaned down, kissing you softly. "Good flight?" "Mhm." "You?" "It was fine." He reached into his backpack. "I've got something." You frowned. "For me?" "Mhm." "You didn't have to get me anything." "I know." He pulled out a small paper gift bag. No fancy wrapping. Just plain brown paper with little handles. You looked between the bag and him. "...What's this?" "You said it made you smile." Confused, you reached inside. Soft fur brushed against your fingertips. Your eyes widened. "No..." You lifted it out. The little Highland cow. The exact same tartan scarf. The same fluffy fringe. The same tiny horns. You stared at it for a long moment. Then back at Ethan. "Babe, you went back." "You liked him." "I..." You looked down at the plush again. "I didn't even tell you to buy him." "You didn't." "You just..." "I saw you looking at him." You laughed in disbelief. "I looked at him for maybe..." You thought. "...two minutes." "You smiled." Your heart absolutely melted. "You went all the way back to that shop..." "It wasn't far."

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms tightly around him. The plush ended up squashed between the two of you. "I love him." "I know." "I love you more." His arms settled comfortably around your waist. "I know."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The familiar voice made you both look up. Jey stood in the doorway with Sami beside him. Jey pointed dramatically at the Highland cow now tucked under your arm. "...Is that the airport cow?" You nodded enthusiastically. "It is!" "You bought it?" "No." You beamed at Ethan. "He did." Jey slowly turned towards him. "...Page." Ethan looked over. "Hm?" "You went back." "Yep." Ethan glanced down at you. You were already smoothing the plush's little fringe back into place with a ridiculous smile on your face. His own smile appeared almost automatically. "She smiled." Jey threw both hands into the air. "MAN, SHE SMILES AT EVERYTHING!" Sami laughed under his breath. "He has got a point." "I know." Jey looked utterly exasperated. "You are the most whipped human being I have ever met." Ethan didn't seem remotely offended. Instead, he looked at you. Still smiling. Still cuddling the little cow to your chest. His expression softened. "It was worth it."

For a split second, the room fell quiet. Because everyone could see he meant it. Twenty-two dollars. A walk across another terminal. Extra time before boarding. None of it had mattered to him. Not compared to the look on your face now. As you absent-mindedly tucked your hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze, Ethan returned it without hesitation. You'd spent the entire interaction looking at the little cow. Ethan had spent the entire interaction looking at you. And somehow that felt even more significant.

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By the following week, it had become something of a running joke backstage. Not for you. For everyone else. Because if anyone needed anything from you, they almost always asked Ethan first. "Y/N, have you seen your media schedule?" Ethan looked up from where he was taping his wrists. "Top pocket of her backpack." The production assistant smiled. "Thanks."

"Has Y/N signed these?" "Second page."

"Do you know where she-" "Interview room four."

"Has she-" "Already eaten."

By lunchtime, Jey had finally had enough. He wandered into catering carrying a bottle of water before dropping into the chair opposite Sami with a dramatic sigh. "I've figured it out." Sami didn't look up from his salad. "What?" "Page ain't her boyfriend." "No?" "He a search engine." Sami laughed. "I was thinking personal assistant." "Nah." "He answers every question before she does."

Almost as if on cue. You wandered into catering carrying your beloved Highland cow tucked under one arm. His name, after much debate with Maxxine, had become Angus. You refused to accept any criticism. "He looks like an Angus." Lyra had sighed. "He looks like polyester." "He has feelings." "He has stuffing."

"There she is." Jey grinned. "Yo, Sunshine." "Hi!" You smiled as you joined them. "What're we talking about?" "Your boyfriend." "Oh?" "We're trying to figure out if he's secretly psychic." You laughed. "I don't think so." "You sure?" "I'd know." "You wouldn't." "I would." "You absolutely wouldn't."

Before you could continue arguing, your phone buzzed. You glanced down. Your smile widened immediately. Ethan You forgot your lunch in the hotel fridge. "Oh." Sami looked up. "What?" "I forgot my lunch." Jey burst into laughter. "You literally just found out!" "I meal prepped yesterday." You frowned at your phone. "I left it behind." Before you had chance to type a reply, another message appeared.

Ethan Don't worry. Already ordered you another one. You couldn't help smiling. A second message. Chicken wrap. No tomato. Extra pickles. It'll be here in ten. You laughed softly to yourself. Jey leaned across the table. "What?" You turned your phone around. "He ordered my lunch." Right on cue, Ethan appeared in the doorway carrying two paper bags. He crossed the room and immediately kissed the top of your head before placing one bag in front of you. "Lunch." You peeked inside. Exactly as promised. Chicken wrap. Your favourite sparkling water. "You even got the grapes." "You like the grapes." "I do." You looked up at him with the softest smile. "You didn't have to." "I know." "But I wanted to." You reached up, taking his hand for just a second. "Thank you." His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "You're welcome."

The conversation around the table resumed or tried to. Because every couple of minutes "Oh." You frowned. "My charger..." Without missing a beat, Ethan reached into his hoodie pocket. "Here." "Right." You laughed. "I forgot mine." "I know."

Five minutes later, "My lip balm's gone." "Front zip." "My backpack isn't—" "Behind your chair." "Oh." You twisted around. There it was. Exactly where he'd said.

Across the table, Jey slowly looked at Sami. Then back at Ethan. Then at you. "Nah." "What?" "This ain't normal." You frowned. "What isn't?" "You." "I've always been like this." "I know." He pointed at Ethan. "But every single time you forget something..." He snapped his fingers. "...he already got it." You shrugged. "He pays attention." "I pay attention." "You do." "I still don't know where my own wallet is." You laughed. "That's because you're Jey." He pretended to look offended. "You saying I'm disorganised?" "I'm saying if your head wasn't attached—" "I'd lose that too." The whole table laughed.

Rhea arrived just as the laughter died down. She set her tray beside yours before sitting. "You all alright?" "We're discussing Ethan's superpowers." She looked between the two of you. "Again?" Jey nodded. "He knew she'd forgotten lunch before she did." Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Did you?" You looked at Ethan. Then back at Rhea. "I don’t notice these things Rhea, you should know that." "Hm." Rhea's eyes lingered on Ethan for a second longer than usual. Not suspicious. Just curious. Because she'd watched the interaction unfold from the doorway. You hadn't asked for help. You hadn't even realized there was a problem. Ethan had noticed before you had. Again.

Across the table, Sami watched Ethan absent-mindedly unwrap the straw on your drink before handing it over without interrupting the conversation. You accepted it automatically, continuing your story to Maxxine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that was what unsettled him most. Neither of you had even thought about it. It wasn't a performance. It wasn't Ethan trying to show everyone what a good boyfriend he was. It was simply how the two of you existed together. And judging by the content little smile on Ethan's face every time he made one tiny part of your day easier he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

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Raw had wrapped almost an hour ago. The adrenaline that always buzzed through the arena during a live show had long since settled into something softer. Road cases rattled across concrete floors as production began packing equipment away. Ring crew members dismantled sections of the barricades. Someone had already started playing music from a speaker balanced precariously on top of a stack of lighting cases, earning several dramatic complaints from the commentary team as they tried to finish post-show meetings. It was organised chaos. Your favourite kind. "Absolutely not." You laughed as Maxxine gently snatched a roll of bright pink gaffer tape out of your hands. "You are not decorating production equipment." "I wasn't decorating it." "You were making bows." "They were festive." "They're black flight cases." "They deserved a little sparkle." Maxxine shook her head, trying not to smile. "I swear, if WWE ever lets you near the props department, we're all doomed." "They'd have the prettiest props department on television.” "They'd have the glitteriest." "Exactly."

Across the room, Rhea snorted as she zipped up her gear bag. "I hate that she's got a point." You grinned triumphantly. "See?" Maxxine rolled her eyes dramatically. "You've both enabled each other." "That's what best friends are for." Rhea saluted you with her water bottle. "Damn right."

Your phone buzzed against the table beside you. You glanced down automatically. Ethan Meeting's running a little over. Don't disappear without me. A smile spread across your face before you'd even realised it. Your fingers moved almost on their own. You No promises. Three dots appeared almost instantly. Y/N. You laughed. You Fineeeee. Another reply. Good girl Heat rushed to your cheeks despite yourself.

You looked up to find Rhea watching you over the rim of her bottle. "The smile." "What smile?" "The one you only do when he texts you." "I smile all the time." "Not like that." You tried very hard to look offended. "I think you're imagining things." Rhea raised an eyebrow. "You literally blushed." "I did not." "You absolutely did." "I've been under bright lights all evening." "Mhm." "I'm warm." "Mhm." "I'm choosing to ignore both of you." Rhea chuckled. "Tell your boyfriend we said hi." "I wasn't going to." "You are now." You rolled your eyes affectionately as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. "You two are bullies."

A production assistant appeared beside you carrying a clipboard. "Y/N?" "Yep?" "Do you mind filming one last social clip before you head out?" "Of course." "It'll only take ten minutes." "No problem." You followed him towards one of the backstage interview sets, chatting happily about absolutely nothing. The clip itself took barely five minutes. One take. A couple of promotional photos. Then another member of the digital team stopped you. "Actually" She smiled apologetically. "Would you mind recording one more?" "Sure." "You've got the nicest reactions." You laughed. "I don't know if that's a compliment." "It definitely is."

By the time you finally stepped back into the corridor, most of the arena had emptied. The noise had faded. Only the occasional shout echoed somewhere in the distance as crew continued loading trucks. You stretched your arms above your head. "Done." Your phone buzzed again. You smiled, already assuming it was Ethan. Instead the screen displayed a name you hadn't seen in a while. MOM You blinked. "Huh." Rhea happened to be walking past with her gear bag slung over one shoulder. "You alright?" "Yeah." You frowned lightly at the screen. "It's my mom." "You gonna answer?" "Probably." You smiled to yourself. "I wonder what she has broken." Rhea laughed. "Hopefully not another lawnmower." "Oh my God..." You groaned. "Don't remind me." You pressed accept. "Hello?" Your smile remained. "Hi!" A pause. "Yeah, I'm good." Another pause. Then your expression shifted. Only slightly. "Oh?" Rhea hadn't intended to listen. She was halfway through walking away. But something about the tone of your voice made her stop. "When?" Silence. Your shoulders slowly dropped. The smile disappeared completely. "No" Your voice cracked so quietly that even you barely heard it. Rhea turned fully now. Your free hand rose instinctively to cover your mouth. "I didn't know" Another pause. You closed your eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn’t be there" The words came out as barely more than a whisper. By the time the call ended, your phone slipped from your ear almost mechanically. You stared at the blank screen for a long second. As though it might suddenly tell you something different. Something better. It didn't. Your lip trembled. You took one shaky breath, then another. Before the first tear slipped silently down your cheek. The corridor suddenly felt far too bright. Far too open. People still drifted past in the distance, laughing as they wheeled production cases towards the loading docks, completely unaware that your entire evening had shattered with a single phone call. Your phone remained pressed against your ear. "No." The word escaped as little more than a breath. "No" Your knees suddenly felt weak. You reached blindly for the wall beside you, your fingertips finding the cool concrete just before your balance disappeared completely.

On the other end of the phone, your mum's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." You squeezed your eyes shut. "I should've been there." "Oh, darling" "You shouldn't have had to do it without me." Your voice broke on the last word. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks before you even realised you were crying. "He waited all day." "We know." "I would've come home." "We know." "I would've—" Your sentence dissolved into a sob. "He knew you loved him." It wasn't enough. Nothing was. "I just" You couldn't breathe properly. "I wanted to say goodbye." The call ended only when neither of you had anything left to say. You stared at the dark screen in your hand. The lockscreen photo, one of you and Ethan laughing backstage a few weeks earlier, blurred behind fresh tears. You barely noticed.

"Y/N?" Rhea's voice was cautious now. She'd turned back the second she'd heard your voice change. You looked up. The moment someone looked at you everything fell apart. A sob escaped before you could stop it. Your shoulders shook as you hurriedly wiped at your face. "I'm okay." It came out completely unconvincing. "No, you're not." Rhea crossed the corridor in three quick strides. "What happened?" You opened your mouth. Nothing. You swallowed hard. "Baxter." She frowned. "The dog?" You nodded once. Your childhood Labrador. The one whose photos filled your phone. The one you'd shown everyone after Christmas because he'd somehow managed to steal an entire turkey sandwich off the kitchen table without anybody noticing. The one Ethan affectionately called "your old man." Your best friend for nearly fifteen years. "He" Your voice trembled. "he was put to sleep this afternoon." The words were barely audible. "I wasn't there." Your entire face crumpled. "I wasn't there."

Rhea didn't hesitate. She wrapped both arms around you, pulling you against her chest. You clung to her hoodie as another sob escaped. "I'm sorry." You shook your head. "I should've gone home last week." "You couldn't have known." "I should've." "You couldn't." "I just..." You cried into her shoulder. "I wanted him to know I was there." "He did." "I don't know that." "He did." You wanted to believe her. You really did. But all you could picture was Baxter lying in his favourite bed at home. Looking towards the door, waiting.

After a long moment, Rhea gently pulled back. She looked at your tear-stained face. Your shaking hands. The way you were trying so desperately to pull yourself together. "What do you need?" You didn't answer straight away. Your eyes dropped back to your phone. There was one message from your mum waiting underneath the missed call notification. He was wearing the bandana you bought him. Another tear rolled down your cheek. Your voice was almost childlike when you finally spoke. "Can you get Ethan?" Rhea's expression softened immediately. "You want me to go and get him?" You nodded. "I..." Your breathing caught again. "I just want Ethan." There was no embarrassment in the request. No pride. Just complete trust. Because if there was one person in the world who always knew how to make things feel a little less overwhelming it was him. Rhea squeezed your hand. "I'll go." She stood, already turning towards the corridor. "I'll bring him to you." Just before she reached the door, she heard your quiet voice behind her. "Please." She looked back. You were sitting curled up on the little office sofa, clutching your phone to your chest as though it was the only thing keeping you together. Your eyes were red, your cheeks streaked with tears, you looked impossibly small. Rhea gave a single nod. "I've got you." Then she was gone. And for the first time since she'd known you, Rhea Ripley found herself walking as fast as she could through the backstage corridors with only one thought in her head. Find Ethan.

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Adam Pearce was halfway through outlining the travel schedule for the following week when someone knocked sharply against the open office door. Not a polite knock, a hurried one. Every conversation inside the room stopped. Rhea stood in the doorway. Still in her gear. Still carrying her duffel bag over one shoulder. She looked straight at Ethan. "Ethan." He looked up from the notebook in front of him, offering the same easy smile he always did. "Everything okay?" She didn't answer the question. "It's Y/N." The smile disappeared. Immediately. "What happened?" "I don't know exactly." Rhea took a small breath. "She got a phone call." Ethan was already pushing his chair back. "Is she hurt?" "No." "Sick?" "No." "What happened?" Rhea looked at him for a moment. Then said the sentence that made his stomach drop. "She's crying."

For a second everything else disappeared. The conversations, the office, Adam, the travel schedule. All of it faded into background noise. Crying? You? His brain rejected the thought almost instantly. You didn't cry. Not because you weren't allowed to. Because you simply didn't. You laughed. You got frustrated. You got overwhelmed sometimes. You absolutely sobbed during sad dog films. But real tears? The kind that came from genuine heartbreak? Never. Not once in the two years you'd been together.

His chest tightened painfully. "What happened?" Rhea shook her head. "She'll tell you." A beat of silence. Then, more quietly, "She asked for you." Something in Ethan's expression changed. It wasn't dramatic. There was no flash of anger. No shouting. No clenched fists. Just focus. Complete, unwavering focus. Before anyone in the room could say another word, he was already moving. "I'll cover for you." Adam's voice followed him towards the door. Ethan barely heard it. "Thanks." The word came automatically. His mind was already somewhere else.

The corridors blurred together as he walked. Fast enough that several members of production instinctively stepped aside. One of the referees greeted him. He didn't hear. Someone asked if he had a minute. He didn't answer. His heartbeat sat uncomfortably high in his chest. You were crying. Every possible reason cycled through his mind. Had someone hurt you? Were you injured? Had something happened to your family? Your parents? Your sister? No. Rhea would've told him if she'd known.

Halfway down the corridor, Maxxine spotted him. "Ethan?" He barely slowed. “Have you seen" "Rhea was with her." He nodded once. "I'm going." Maxxine frowned. "...Is everything okay?" "I don't know." His voice remained calm. Too calm. "I will." Then he kept walking.

He found the office exactly where Rhea had said it would be. The door sat almost closed. Only a thin strip of light spilled into the corridor. For the first time since leaving the meeting he hesitated. Just for a second. He rested one hand against the door handle. Took a slow breath. Then gently pushed it open. The room was silent. You sat curled into the corner of the small sofa. Still wearing your ring gear hoodie. Your knees pulled tightly against your chest. Your phone clutched in both hands. Your eyes remained fixed on the floor. You hadn't even noticed he'd arrived. His heart cracked he'd never seen you look so small. So that's why he thought. Rhea sounded frightened. Because anyone who knew you anyone at all would have been.

He quietly closed the door behind him. The soft click finally made you look up. Your eyes met his, already red, already swollen. The second you saw him the little bit of composure you'd managed to rebuild completely disappeared. "Ethan..." Your voice broke on his name. He crossed the room in three strides. Dropping to his knees in front of you without a second thought. "Hey." His voice was impossibly gentle. "I'm here." That was all it took. You reached for him instinctively. Almost desperately. He caught you before you could even think about it, wrapping both arms around you as you buried your face against his shoulder. Fresh sobs shook your body. "I'm here," he repeated softly, one hand smoothing slowly up and down your back. "I've got you. You don't have to say anything. I'm here." He held you tighter as you cried into his hoodie, his cheek resting lightly against the top of your head. He hated this. Not your tears. Never your tears. The fact that they existed at all. Because if you were crying then somewhere, somehow the world had managed to hurt you and he hadn't stopped it.

He didn't ask you to explain. Not immediately. There wasn't any point. You were trying to breathe through every sentence, and every attempt only seemed to end with another quiet sob. So instead he simply held you. One hand moved slowly up and down your back. The other remained tangled with yours. Grounding you, reminding you he was there. There was nowhere else he needed to be.

Nearly ten minutes passed before your breathing finally began to settle. Not because you'd stopped hurting. Because you'd cried until there was nothing left in you for the moment. You pulled back just enough to wipe at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. "Sorry." His eyebrows pulled together immediately. "For what?" "I..." You looked embarrassed. "I'm making a mess." He gently took your wrist before you could rub at your eyes again. "You don't have to apologise for crying." "I've got mascara everywhere." "I don't care." "I look awful." "You look heartbroken." His thumb carefully brushed another tear from your cheek. "There's a difference." Your lip trembled all over again.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet enough that Ethan could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning. Your breathing. The occasional muffled sound of road cases rolling through the loading dock somewhere outside. Then, very quietly, "It was Baxter." He looked down at you. "Your mom called." You nodded. "They..." Your throat tightened. "They had to let him go." Ethan closed his eyes for the briefest second. Baxter. Of course. He knew Baxter. Not in the way you did. But through your stories, hundreds of them. The Labrador who used to steal socks from the washing basket and proudly parade them around the house like trophies. The one who insisted on sleeping directly across your bedroom doorway every Christmas because he'd decided it was his job to guard you. The one who'd somehow eaten an entire birthday cake when you were sixteen and spent the next day looking deeply unapologetic about it. You'd told those stories so many times that Ethan almost felt as though he'd known him himself. "He waited all day." Your voice cracked again. "Mum said..." You swallowed hard. "They think he was waiting for me." Ethan's heart physically ached. "No." You looked at him. "He wasn't waiting because he thought you'd forgotten him." His voice remained calm, gentle. "He loved you." Fresh tears spilled over immediately. "I wasn't there." "I know." "I should've gone home." "You couldn't have known." "I should've." "You couldn't." You shook your head stubbornly. "I promised I'd see him after tour." "You meant it." "I know, but I broke my promise."

Ethan reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "No." You looked at him through tear-filled eyes. "You kept every promise that mattered." You frowned. "What do you mean?" "You loved him." "So much." "You never stopped. You talked about him every week." A tiny, sad smile touched his lips. "You made me learn the difference between his happy bark and his biscuit bark." Despite yourself a tiny laugh escaped through your tears. "He did have different barks." "I know. You showed me videos. You made me watch the one where he got stuck behind the garden bench four separate times." Another watery laugh. "He wasn't very clever." "No." Ethan smiled softly. "But he looked very proud of himself." You nodded, wiping at your face again. "He always looked proud." "I know."

Silence settled again. Not heavy this time. Just quiet, you leaned against him once more, resting your forehead beneath his chin. "I hate that I wasn't there." His arms instinctively tightened around you. "I know." "I hate that Mum and Dad had to do it on their own." "I know." "I hate that he's not going to be there when I go home." Your voice became barely audible. "The house is going to feel so empty." Ethan closed his eyes. That sentence landed somewhere deep inside him. Because he'd never thought about that. You wouldn't just miss Baxter. Every trip home from now on you'd open the front door expecting nails on the wooden floor. A wagging tail, a happy bark. Nothing. The silence would remind you all over again. His chest tightened.

His mind started moving before he even realised it. Your flight home. He'd call Adam in the morning, see if there was a way to get you a couple of days off. He'd pack your suitcase, drive you to the airport himself, make sure your favourite hoodie was washed before you left. Order flowers for your mum. No, not flowers. Your mum wasn't a flower person, a food hamper. Something she wouldn't have to think about. He'd organise it tonight. He stopped himself. You shifted slightly against him. Still crying quietly. Still heartbroken and all he could think about was making lists. Finding solutions, fixing things. His gaze dropped to the top of your head. This couldn't be fixed. That was the problem. He couldn't bring Baxter back. He couldn't erase today. For the first time in a very long time there was a problem he couldn't solve. The feeling settled heavily in his chest. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. He hated it. Not because he needed to be the hero. Because he couldn't bear the thought of you carrying this pain alone. So if he couldn't take away the grief he'd take away everything else. Every decision. Every inconvenience. Every little burden. Anything that wasn't this. He would carry it for you.

Quietly. Without asking for thanks. Without expecting anything in return. Just because he loved you. Just because seeing you like this made something inside him quietly vow, Never again. Not your grief. He knew grief was unavoidable. But the world had already asked enough of you tonight. As far as Ethan was concerned it wasn't getting anything else.

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The office door opened quietly. You hadn't realised how late it had become until you stepped back into the corridor. The arena was almost empty now. Gone were the voices that had echoed through the building after the show. The television screens mounted on the walls had already been switched off, leaving the backstage hallways lit only by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. You instinctively moved a little closer to Ethan. He noticed.

Without saying a word, he shifted too. His hand found yours. Not tightly. Just enough that you knew he was there.

You'd barely taken ten steps before a member of production hurried over. "Y/N, before you leave, could we just" "No." Ethan's answer was immediate. Calm. Professional. "We'll pick it up next week." The producer looked between the two of you. "Oh, I didn't realise" "It's been a difficult evening." Ethan's tone never changed. "If it isn't urgent, it can wait." The producer's expression softened immediately. "Of course. Tell her not to worry about it." "I will." The conversation was over almost as quickly as it'd begun. You hadn't said a single word. By the time you'd processed what had happened, Ethan was already gently guiding you back towards the exit.

"...I forgot to tell them I couldn't do media tomorrow." "You don't need to." You frowned. "What?" "I already spoke to digital." You blinked. "When?" "While you were getting some water." "I..." You genuinely hadn't noticed him leave your side. "They've moved your interview to next week." "Oh." A beat. "Thank you." He simply squeezed your hand.

The talent parking lot was almost deserted. A warm summer breeze drifted through the rows of rental cars. You stopped beside yours. "My suitcase..." Ethan opened the boot. It was already inside. Your backpack sat beside it. Your jacket had been folded neatly across the top. Even your water bottle was tucked into the side pocket where you always kept it. "When did you" "I packed your locker." You looked at him. "You packed my locker?" "You left before you finished." You looked down at the boot. Everything was there. Your wrestling boots. Your toiletries. The Highland cow plush tucked carefully between two hoodies so it wouldn't get squashed. A tiny, watery smile pulled at your lips. "You remembered him." Ethan followed your gaze to the plush. "He makes you smile."

The drive away from the arena was quiet. You rested your forehead against the cool window, watching the city lights blur together. Somewhere beside you, Ethan was driving with one hand. The other rested lightly on the centre console, palm open, waiting. Without thinking, you slipped your hand into it. His fingers curled around yours immediately. He didn't look away from the road. Didn't comment. He simply held your hand for the rest of the journey.

About halfway back to the hotel, your phone buzzed. You glanced down. Three missed calls. Six unread messages. Social media notifications piling on top of one another. Your chest tightened. "I should reply" Before you could unlock your phone, Ethan spoke. "You don't have to." "I don't want people worrying." "I texted everyone." You looked across at him. "Everyone?" "Rhea. Maxxine. Adam. I asked Rhea to let the rest of the locker room know you wanted some space." "You did?" "Mhm. So nobody expects you tonight." You stared at him. "I didn't even think about that." "I know."

A few minutes later, another thought hit you. "Oh. My parents. I should ring them." "You will." "I just..." You rubbed tiredly at your eyes. "I don't know what to say." "You don't have to tonight." He glanced across at you. "I spoke to your mom." Your head snapped round. "You what?" "I called her while you were washing your face." "You called Mom?" "I wanted to make sure she'd got home." You blinked several times. "And?" "She said to tell you she loves you." Your eyes filled immediately. "She also told me not to let you convince me you're 'fine.'" Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped. "That sounds like her." He smiled softly. "She asked if I'd make sure you ate something." You looked down at your hands. "...I forgot to eat." "I know. I ordered dinner." "Of course you did." "It'll be waiting at the hotel." You laughed weakly through another tear. "I swear..." "What?" "You think of everything." "I just think of you." The simplicity of the sentence stole the breath from your lungs. No grand declaration. No dramatic speech. Just the truth.

When the hotel finally came into view, you realised something. For the last forty minutes you hadn't made a single decision. Not one. You hadn't packed your things, cancelled your appearances, updated your friends, called your mum, ordered dinner, collected your luggage or even remembered to bring Angus. Ethan had quietly done every single one of those things without ever making you feel incapable. He'd simply seen the weight you were carrying and picked up everything else before you even realised it was there. As he parked the car, he reached across to switch the engine off before turning towards you. "You don't have to think anymore tonight." His hand came up to gently brush a tear from beneath your eye. "I've done the thinking." For the first time since your mom's phone call the knot in your chest loosened. Just a little. Because if there was one thing you knew with absolute certainty it was that Ethan would never let you face the practical parts of heartbreak alone.

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The hotel room was almost completely dark. Only the bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light across the carpet. Ethan quietly eased the door shut behind him with his foot, balancing two overnight bags over one shoulder while carefully carrying Angus under his other arm. You hadn't moved. You'd fallen asleep somewhere between the hotel and the elevator, your head resting against his shoulder as he'd carried you through the lobby. He hadn't had the heart to wake you, so he'd simply carried you all the way upstairs. He'd done it before after long flights. After twenty-hour travel days. After nights where jet lag had caught up with you. Tonight you'd just needed someone else to carry you for a while.

He lowered the bags onto the floor without making a sound. The room service trolley had already been delivered. Still warm, untouched. He'd expected that. His eyes drifted back to the bed. You were still curled on your side beneath the duvet, one of his hoodies swallowing your frame. Your face was puffy from crying, even in sleep your brows remained faintly pinched together. His chest ached. He quietly crossed the room. The first thing he did wasn't unpack, wasn't eat, wasn't even take his shoes off. Instead, he gently lifted your phone from the bedside table. Twenty-seven missed notifications. Most of them from friends. Fans, instagram tags. He switched on Do Not Disturb. Then opened your alarms. You'd forgotten to turn tomorrow's 5:30 a.m. gym alarm off. He deleted it, then the backup alarm, then the backup for the backup. You deserved one morning where nothing demanded anything from you. Next. Your charger. He plugged your phone in, then your watch, then your headphones. One less thing for you to worry about tomorrow.

He quietly unpacked your suitcase. Not everything. Just enough. Pyjamas folded neatly at the end of the bed, toiletries laid out in the bathroom exactly how you always arranged them, skincare lined up in order, hairbrush beside the sink, your favourite fluffy socks placed where your feet would naturally find them when you climbed out of bed. His movements were automatic. He'd watched your routines often enough that he didn't have to think anymore. Angus was next. He smiled faintly. "You've got an important job." The little Highland cow was placed carefully against your pillow, facing you. Exactly where you'd smile when you woke up.

His phone buzzed. Y/N’S mom He glanced at the screen. He stepped quietly into the bathroom before answering. "Hello?" "Hi, Ethan." Her voice sounded tired. "So is she?" He looked back through the cracked door. You hadn't stirred. "She's asleep." A shaky exhale came from the other end. "Thank goodness."

There was silence for a moment. Then, "Thank you." He frowned. "You don't need to thank me." "I do." "You've looked after her all evening." His eyes drifted back to you. "She'd do the same for me." "I know." Your mum's voice softened. "She loves you very much." His throat tightened. "I love her too." "I know you do." Another pause. "I just, I hate that she wasn't here." "So does she." "I know." He leaned lightly against the bathroom counter. "I'll bring her home." "Tomorrow? Will Adam approve it." "I've already spoken to him." "You have?" "He said family comes first." Ethan closed his eyes briefly. One less thing. Good.

When he returned to the bedroom, you shifted in your sleep. A tiny frown crossed your face. "Bax" The broken little whisper barely reached him. He was beside the bed immediately. "Hey." His hand gently smoothed through your hair. "I'm here." Your breathing hitched once, then settled. You unconsciously reached towards him, even asleep. He took your hand without hesitation. Your fingers curled around his instinctively. The tension left your face almost immediately. His heart broke all over again.

He sat there for a long time. Watching you sleep, thinking. Not about Baxter. Not anymore. There was nothing he could do about Baxter. His thoughts drifted somewhere else. Your flight, checking whether you'd packed tissues. Making sure there'd be petrol in the rental car when you landed. Ordering groceries for your parents' house so nobody had to think about shopping. Cancelling your physio appointment next week. Finding somewhere that printed good-quality photographs. You'd once said your favourite picture of Baxter was the one where he was wearing the ridiculous reindeer antlers every Christmas. He'd find it. Print it. Frame it. It wasn't about replacing the grief. Nothing could. It was about removing every tiny task that grief usually came wrapped in. Because every phone call. Every forgotten charger. Every cancelled booking. Every meal. Every suitcase. Every little decision was energy you no longer had. So he'd spend his instead. He looked down at your hand still tucked safely inside his. You'd once teased him that he treated loving you like it was a full-time job. At the time, he'd laughed. Tonight he realised that wasn't quite true. It wasn't a job. Jobs ended. Loving you didn't. It was simply who he was and if that meant carrying every practical burden you had until you could stand on your own again... He'd do it. Without hesitation. Without complaint. Without ever telling you just how many things he'd quietly taken off your shoulders. Because the only thing he wanted from you was for tomorrow to hurt a little less than today.

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The alarm never went off. When you eventually opened your eyes, the room was filled with soft morning light filtering through the gap in the curtains. For a few blissful seconds you didn't remember. Your gaze wandered sleepily around the room. Your suitcase stood neatly by the door. Your wrestling boots had disappeared. Your phone sat charging on the bedside table. A cup of water waited beside it. Then your eyes landed on Angus. The tiny Highland cow sat propped against your pillow, his tartan scarf slightly wonky. A small smile tugged at your lips. Before the memories crashed back in. Baxter. The phone call. Your mom. The tears. The smile vanished. Your chest tightened painfully.

"You awake?" Ethan's voice drifted softly from the other side of the room. You hadn't even realised he was awake. He stood near the little hotel kitchenette, quietly stirring something in a mug. You nodded once. "Mhm." "Morning." "Morning." He crossed the room, setting the mug down on the bedside table. Not coffee, tea. The chamomile tea you only ever drank when you were upset. "You remembered." "You always choose this one." You wrapped both hands around the warm mug. "Thank you."

"You don't have to get up yet." "I should." "You don't." "I need to pack." "It's already done." You blinked. "...Already?" "Mhm." "My toiletries?" "In the front pocket." "My charger?" "Side pouch." "My gear?" "Washed." You frowned. "...You washed my gear?" "It would've started smelling if we'd left it." A beat. "My black hoodie?" "The one you wanted?" You nodded. "It's folded on top." You looked at him for a long moment before quietly laughing through your sadness. "I genuinely don't know what I'd do without you." He smiled. "I know."

He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before returning with your hairbrush. You frowned in confusion. "What?" "You'll get knots." You looked down at yourself. Your hair had become an absolute mess overnight. "Oh." You hadn't even noticed. You reached for the brush. Instead of handing it over Ethan hesitated. Then quietly asked, "Can I?" Your eyebrows lifted. "You want to brush my hair?" "If you'll let me." Your heart squeezed. You shifted forward on the bed. "Come here." He sat behind you carefully, one knee resting against the mattress as he gently gathered your hair into one hand. The first brush stroke was impossibly careful. Slow. Patient. He worked from the ends upwards exactly the way you'd once shown him after he'd accidentally tugged a knot months ago. Not once did he pull. Not once did he rush. "You learnt." "You taught me." Another gentle stroke. "You said starting at the top hurts." You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "You remembered." "I remember you." Silence settled between you. The only sound was the soft glide of the brush through your hair. It felt strangely comforting. Like home.

When he finished, he gently handed you your favourite scrunchie. "I thought you might want this." You smiled faintly. "My blue one." "It matches the jumper you're wearing." You looked down. He was right. Of course he was.

The drive to the airport was quiet. You spent most of it looking out of the window while Ethan rested one hand on the steering wheel and the other loosely over yours. Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.

The airport was already busy. People hurried in every direction dragging suitcases behind them. Announcements echoed overhead. You followed Ethan almost automatically through the entrance. Halfway to the check-in desks, you suddenly stopped. "My passport." Your face drained of colour. "I left it..." Before panic could properly take hold, Ethan calmly reached into the front pocket of his backpack. Holding it out between two fingers. "You gave it to me last night." You stared. "...I did?" "You said you'd lose it if you kept it." "I don't remember doing that." "I know." You took it with a shaky laugh. "I was about thirty seconds away from crying again." "I know."

As you reached the security queue, an airline employee stepped in front of you. "Morning." He smiled politely. "I'm afraid only passengers can continue from this point." You nodded. "Right." You turned towards Ethan, suddenly feeling ten times smaller than you had a moment ago. "I'll..." Your voice caught. "I'll see you in a couple of days." He looked at you for a long second. Reading every emotion that crossed your face. The uncertainty. The sadness. The fact you suddenly didn't want to walk through security by yourself. Without a word, he reached into his wallet. The airline employee frowned. "Sir?" Ethan calmly produced another boarding pass. The employee looked down at it. Then back at him. "You're... travelling too?" "I changed my flight." You blinked. "What?" He looked at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't think I was letting you do this alone." Your eyes immediately filled with tears. "Babe" "You've got enough to think about." He gently took your suitcase handle from your hand. "I'll carry this." The employee, still slightly confused by the interaction, stepped aside with an awkward smile. "Well, I hope you both have a safe journey." "Thank you." Ethan nodded politely before looking back at you. You were still staring. "You changed your flight?" "It wasn't difficult." "Ethan..." "You didn't ask me to." "No." "I wanted to." He reached for your hand again. "C'mon." "Your mum's waiting." And with that, he quietly guided you towards security, your suitcase rolling behind him, your passport tucked safely back into his pocket for now. Because, in his mind, there was never any question. If you were going home sad then he was going home with you.

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THREE WEEKS LATER

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks since the phone call. Three weeks since he'd held you together on a battered office sofa backstage. Three weeks since Baxter. The grief hadn't disappeared. Ethan hadn't expected it to. Some mornings he still woke to find you staring at your phone, smiling sadly at old videos of a greying Labrador proudly carrying sticks twice his size. Sometimes you'd laugh at a memory before your eyes filled with tears. Other days, you'd simply go quiet whenever someone mentioned going home. Grief wasn't something to solve. He understood that now. It was something to carry alongside someone.

The silence in your apartment had stayed with him. The first night you'd both returned home after spending a week with your parents, you'd unlocked the front door and instinctively paused. Just for a heartbeat. As though you were waiting for paws that weren't there. Then you'd smiled at yourself. A brave, heartbreaking little smile. "I keep expecting to hear nails on the floor." It had been the only thing you'd said before disappearing into the bedroom. Ethan had stood alone in the hallway long after you'd gone. Listening to the quiet. You'd been right. Home was too quiet.

So he'd started researching. Not that night. Not even the next day. He'd waited. he'd listened, he'd watched, he'd called your parents. Then, when he was sure. He'd planned. Because planning was something he understood. Planning was something he could do. He'd found a reputable breeder less than an hour from your parents' house. Read every health certificate. Every genetic screening. Every review. He'd spent an embarrassing amount of time researching pet insurance, training classes and which hotels on the WWE schedule accepted dogs. He'd spoken to Adam Pearce about travel weeks. Quietly arranged extra days off where possible. He'd found a dog walker in Orlando who specialised in working around unpredictable schedules. Bought two crates. One for the apartment and one for your parents' house. He'd assembled both himself. Watched three different videos on crate training. Your parents had laughed when he'd arrived with a boot full of puppy supplies. "You're nesting," your mom had teased. He hadn't argued. Maybe he was.

He'd almost cancelled, twice. The second time had been after finding you asleep on the sofa, Baxter's old bandana folded carefully in your lap. The guilt had hit him so hard he'd nearly phoned the breeder. How could he possibly think, how could any dog… No. It wasn't fair. Not to you. Not to Baxter. Not to the puppy.

Your mom had stopped him. "He'll never replace Baxter." "I know." "You know." She'd smiled softly. "So does she." He hadn't been convinced. Until she'd added. "She's started looking at rescue websites." He'd looked up. "She has?" "Only for a few minutes. Then she closes them." "She says it feels like she's moving on." Your mom had shaken her head gently. "I think she's just waiting for someone to tell her it's okay to love another dog."

Now Standing outside the apartment door with a tiny black Labrador asleep against his chest... Ethan realised he was nervous. Actually nervous. The puppy snored softly, one ridiculously oversized paw hanging over Ethan's forearm. The little yellow ribbon around his neck had somehow twisted sideways. Ethan fixed it carefully. "You've got one job." The puppy yawned. Completely unimpressed. "You've got to like her." A tiny pink tongue poked out. He smiled despite himself. "I don't think that'll be the difficult part."

His keys clicked quietly in the lock. The apartment was warm. Sunlight spilled through the living room windows. You were exactly where he'd expected, curled into the corner of the sofa, one of his hoodies swallowing you whole, a book balanced open across your knees. You looked up as he stepped inside. A smile immediately found your face. "Hi." He closed the door carefully behind him. "Long day?" "Mhm." You stretched dramatically. "Maxxine made me do cardio." "The horror." "I know." Your eyes narrowed playfully. "What have you got behind your back?" He blinked. "Nothing." "Ethan." "I've just got my bag." "You are a terrible liar." He sighed theatrically. "I was hoping you'd be less observant." "I know you." "You do." You set your book aside, smiling curiously. "What are you hiding?" He stood there for another second. His stomach twisting tighter than it had before any title match. This was ridiculous. He wasn't the one receiving the surprise. "Babe?" Your voice softened immediately. "You okay?" He nodded once. Then quietly, "I need you to close your eyes." You laughed. "No." He smiled despite himself. "Please." "What are you plotting?" "Just trust me." "I always trust you." The words settled somewhere deep in his chest. You stood from the sofa. Covering your eyes dramatically with both hands. "They're closed." "I haven't even asked yet." "I know." "But if I peek, you'll make me feel guilty." "I absolutely would." "I know you."

He chuckled quietly. "Okay." He turned slightly, lifting the sleeping puppy properly into his arms. The movement disturbed him just enough that sleepy brown eyes blinked open. "Oh..." Ethan whispered. "Perfect timing." The puppy looked around with complete confusion before deciding Ethan's hoodie string was the most fascinating thing in the world. "No." He gently rescued it. "Not yet."

"You can open them now." You lowered your hands. For a second you simply stared. Your brain didn't quite catch up with what your eyes were seeing. A tiny black Labrador, floppy ears, big paws, sleepy brown eyes, curled safely against Ethan's chest with a yellow ribbon tied around his neck, silence. Then your hand flew to your mouth. "Ethan." He searched your face immediately. Every tiny change in your expression. The surprise, the tears gathering in your eyes, the way your bottom lip trembled. Panic bloomed in his chest. Too soon. He'd been wrong. "I'm sorry." The words left him instantly. "If this is too much" Your eyes snapped to his. "I can take him back." He swallowed. "I thought maybe... I know he isn't Baxter." "I know that." "I wasn't trying to—" Fresh tears spilled over your cheeks. His stomach dropped. "I've made it worse." "No." Your voice cracked. "No..." He stepped forward instinctively. "I should've waited." "You don't understand." "I thought…" Before he could finish, you closed the distance between you. One hand caught his wrist. The other reached, almost hesitantly, towards the puppy. Tiny paws immediately stretched towards you. The puppy gave one enthusiastic lick across your fingers. You let out the smallest, wettest laugh. "Oh” The sound broke something inside Ethan. You looked up at him through tears. "You idiot." His eyebrows knitted together. "What?" "You've made me cry." "I know. I'm sorry." You laughed again, shaking your head. "They're happy tears." He stilled. "Really?" You nodded, gently scratching beneath the puppy's chin as his tail began thumping against Ethan's arm. "So happy." He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "I thought..." "I know." You looked back down at the puppy. "So did Mom know?" He nodded. "And your Dad, they helped me." You smiled. "They're terrible at keeping secrets." "They were surprisingly good." Your eyes wandered over the puppy again. "So..." You whispered. "He's ours?" Ethan finally smiled. "If you'll have him."

You looked at him as though he'd asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. Instead of answering you wrapped one arm around Ethan's waist, the other carefully supporting the puppy between you. Resting your forehead against Ethan's shoulder, you whispered, "I didn't think I was ready." His heart sank for half a second. Then you continued. "I think I was just waiting for someone to remind me that loving another dog doesn't mean I loved Baxter any less." Emotion tightened painfully in his throat. "It doesn't." "I know." You looked down as the puppy clumsily licked your chin. A real laugh escaped you this time. Bright. Warm. The first completely unguarded laugh Ethan had heard from you in weeks. He didn't look at the puppy. He looked at you. Because that sound, that smile, that tiny spark of joy breaking through the grief it was everything he'd been hoping for. You glanced back at him, still smiling. "When did you even do all this?" Ethan shrugged, as though it were nothing. "I found a breeder. Spoke to your parents. Sorted the insurance. Registered him with the vet. Booked puppy classes. Bought a crate. Puppy-proofed the apartment. Found hotels that accept dogs for the road. There's a dog walker for TV weeks and" You started laughing again. He stopped. "What?" "You've done everything." He frowned slightly. "I hadn't finished." "I know." You reached up, cupping his cheek. "You never have to earn my love by taking care of me." His expression softened. "I know." "Then why?" He looked down at the little puppy now fast asleep in your arms, then back into your eyes. His answer was so quiet you almost missed it. "Because you told me home was too quiet." And somehow that was the moment that made you cry the hardest. Not because of the puppy. Not because of Baxter. But because the man standing in front of you had listened to one throwaway sentence spoken through heartbreak and loved you enough to spend three weeks making sure you never had to come home to silence again.

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