it hurts to become.

as  if  his  name  alone  calmed  her,  she  felt  the  tension  melt  away  beneath  the  spray  of  the  shower.  he’d  been  a  light  for  her  when  she’d  retreated  so  far  in  on  herself.  never  pushing.  never  prying.  he  was  there  when  she  wanted  as  a  friend,  as  a  workout  partner,  as  a  confidante,  as  something  more.  more  than  she’d  felt  with  anyone  else  in  her  life.  seth  had  made  her  want  to  remember  how  to  live  BEYOND  the  wins  and  losses  in  that  ring.

 but  there  was  still  a  part  of  her  terrified  that  shayna  would  d r a g  her  back.

 hands  reached  out  and  flipped  off  the  water.  her  body  was  on  autopilot  as  she  went  through  her  normal  routine.  toweling  out  her  hair,  washing  her  face  of  any  remaining  bits  of  the  glam  squad,  slipping  into  sweatpants  and  a  tanktop,  trying  to  settle  her  mind  with  the  monotony.  it  was  then  that  she  finally  emerged,  a  little  more  zen  than  when  she’d  went  in.  her  eyes  skimmed  seth  as  he  stood  from  the  bed  and  stretched.

 " ha-ha, “  she  dryly  responded,  her  lips  tilted  into  a  smirk.  ” i  can’t  help  dat  i  know  how  ta  SAVOR  hot  water  when  i  don’t  pay  fer  it. “  becky  glanced  back  as  the  gentle  song  played  through  the  hotel  room,  her  brow  furrowing  into  a  look  of  confusion.  quickly  it  turned  into  amusement  as  seth  took  her  hand  and  slowly  began  to  sway  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  ” what  are  ye  upta?  i  already  agreed  ta  marry  ye. “

Knowing Becky so well meant that he could tell what Shayna was doing to her. It had been subtle at first, small changes that might have gone unnoticed by most, enough that he’d kept his concerns to himself, had bitten his tongue because he’d wanted Becky to come to him rather than him go sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. But as time went on, it became clear the former UFC fighter was morphing into something of an obsession for Becky. Was taking up more and more space in her head, in her life, and Seth couldn’t find it in himself to fault her. He knew what it was like to face an opponent with so much momentum behind them, such a daunting record to their name -- beating them became everything.

But Seth also knew just how damaging that could be, had learned it firsthand. And so he was doing what he could to help ground Becky in the moment, particularly those instances like this, where there were no cameras, no pressure to perform, to live up to her moniker as the Man. Maybe that was part of the reason why, as Becky had emerged from the bathroom looking stunning in such casual clothing ( she took his breath away regardless of what she wore, something he’d learned very early on in their relationship ), he’d swooped in to take her hand and start them swaying and turning, movements slow and purposeful.

“What, can’t I dance with my fiance --” And how sweet that word was on his tongue, the reality of it still so fresh and novel to him that he felt his lips curl into a grin as it left them. “-- without some kind of ulterior motive?” An almost theatrically wounded tone to his voice as he asked the question, as if offended she would question him. Leaning down to press his lips to her temple, eyes hooded as he murmured much more softly now. “I just wanted to be close to you,” he admitted, sounding a touch sheepish because it was a bit cheesy of him to say.

            it wasn’t a shocker that the bar was quiet tonight. on a thursday night, most creatures didn’t stay out long, the early friday morning keeping them at home often. but that didn’t mean the place would stay closed and so it meant jon would have to throw on the thick black bomber jacket and his eyes would be roaming the room for hours. he was a switch, easily thrown into different positions at the bar. though, being the bouncer was his favorite. tonight he was finding himself inside though, making sure the guests left the sexy waitresses alone and paid their drinks with money instead of … anything else.

            when the large guy with bright eyes but dark hair and beard approached him, he made himself tall, standing up straight to make sure he showed no fear. that would be the worst he could do around here: admit that he was intimidated by the beings around. they could all kill him within the blink of an eye. if they knew. if only. ❛ yeah. i make sure everyone‘s having a great fuckin’ time. ❜ playful, almost, jon nodded in the direction of the dude. he couldn’t tell what kind of creature he was considering he looked like a human too. but being in the business for long enough now, mox had learned to expect the unexpected. the guy might be able to turn his hair into a thousand snakes and turn him into a rock just by staring at him. so he wouldn’t want to push his luck, would much rather try to charm his way out of the situation. 

Pulled out of his thoughts by the other man’s voice, Roman offered an easy grin of his own, taking a sip of beer as he contemplated his response to an such overt and obvious flirtation. It seemed to come far too easily to be anything genuine, anything to get truly flustered over, but it was lighthearted enough that it didn’t come off as patronizing or demeaning. The wolf in him insisted on getting a clean scent -- to identify who and what he was interacting with -- but his human sensibilities won, allowed him to push the instinct -- his instinct to crowd the man until able to discern what he was -- down where it wouldn’t lead to inappropriate behavior. ( His wolf found it irritating how concerned Roman was with the norms of human society, but it didn’t push. )

Roman pushed his hair back out of his face, beginning to regret having worn it down for once ( he typically pulled it up when he went out, just because it was much more manageable that way ). “This is only my second time here,” he admitted. “Though the place does have quite the reputation.” Anywhere that openly welcomed supernatural creatures was bound to, given all the mischief and mayhem they tended to cause, especially when gathered in large numbers like they were here on certain nights. “Saw you the first time I visited -- I was with friends then,” added easily, taking another swig of beer. He allowed his eyes to flick over the man’s form once more, a little slower, more intentionally this time. Speaking of handsome.

A deep breath through his nose, his own subtle way of trying to scent the man and soothe his wolf -- unsuccessful, but effort put forth nonetheless. “Do you like working here? I imagine it’s gotta be a handful sometimes.” Roman could only imagine the chaos that would come from such varying creatures being in such close proximity. “I’m Roman, by the way,” he introduced, switching his beer to his left hand to offer the now-freed right for a handshake.

             it boils all the same 

       sometimes it escapes 

                bruised knuckles 

                      or a scream that burns

i try to hide it.         i try to pretend its not there

but, i’ve found 

 if  there  was  one  thing  becky  didn’t  lack  —  it  was  CONFIDENCE.  where  she  once  would  have  hesitated  in  words,  actions,  statements,  the  irishwoman  now  navigated  those  with  ease.  the  moniker  of  'THE  MAN’  seemed  to  exude  from  becky  in  most  things  that  she  did  and  she  was  proud  that  she  could  hold  herself  that  way.  it  had  opened  doors  and  broken  glass  ceilings.  there  were  few  things  in  this  business  that  she  truly  feared  doing  anymore;  they  were  only  further  challenges  for  her  to  overcome  just  like  the  others  had  been.

 but  the  minute  her  lips  brushed  warm  skin  and  the  silence  echoed  around  them  as  he  stopped  mid-laugh,  becky  felt  her  heart  PLUMMET  into  her  stomach.  part  of  her  debated  on  fleeing.  could  she  outrun  him  if  he  was  stunned?  surely  she  could  make  it  back  to  the  locker-room  before  he  knew  what  was  happening.  from  there  she’d  just  hide  out  until  it  was  safe  to  make  it  to  her  rental  car  and  then  maybe  the  next  few  thousand  miles  to  their  destination  would  make  him  forget  about  what  an  IDIOT  she  had  been.

 her  thoughts  continued  to  race  as  the  silence  dragged  on.  each  second  a  pierce  through  her  heart  as  she  attempted  to  figure  out  something  to  say  —  ANYTHING  to  squash  the  horrible  awkwardness  that  had  fallen  around  them.  yet  as  she  opened  her  mouth  to  speak,  roman  went  first.  in  her  nervousness  she  felt  her  teeth  suck  her  lower  lip  between  the  rows  to  gnaw  viciously  at  it.

 his  words  were  a  punch  to  the  gut.  NOT  MY  TYPE.  did  anyone  ever  like  hearing  that?  it  wasn’t  as  if  she  was  in  LOVE  with  the  guy  but  ouch!  it  definitely  bruised  the  ego  to  hear  someone  you  found  attractive  say  you  weren’t  their  type.  a  breath  like  she’d  been  struck  pulled  itself  out  before  she  could  stop  it  and  she  took  that  as  good  a  time  as  any  to  respond.  almost  involuntarily  she  shook  her  head,  a  forced  smile  plastered  to  her  face  to  stop  her  desire  to  sink  into  the  floor.  " hey,  no,  don’t  —  don’t  explain.  it’s  FINE.  i  read  some  things…VERY  wrong  and  i  just  —  yer  a  good  lookin’  guy  and  we’re  mates  and  i  just  don’t  want  t'is  ta  ruin  anything.  can  we  just  —  we’ll  wipe  the  record,  yeah?  i’m  not  yer  type.  no  harm.  no  foul. “  silently  she  prayed  he’d  just  accept  and  put  her  out  of  her  misery.

I read some things every wrong. That had Roman’s mind racing once more, replaying moments -- particularly the ones that had just transpired, prior to . . . this. Made him take a look over the way he interacted with Becky, the manner in which he spoke to her, and he was unable to stop himself from placing his hands over his face, scrub them as if he could wipe away the look he knew was blooming in his features because he was an absolute idiot. No wonder Becky had kissed his cheek; to someone who didn’t know that Roman was . . . not interested in women, it probably seemed like he’d been flirting. It didn’t help that he was a sweet-talker at times, was known to drop a baby or sweetheart ( in a respectful manner of course, his mama hadn’t raised a man who’d disrespect women, she would’ve kicked his ass had she found out he’d been inappropriate or patronizing to a woman ).

And then there was the fact that Roman wasn’t, well, flamboyant. Not that there was anything wrong with that. The stereotypes, though, made it hard to look at Roman and see that he was -- and he’d been beating around it in his head, had been refraining from even thinking the words, almost as if scared to acknowledge them -- gay. Part of him was grateful for it, as cowardly as that might have been. The company they were in wasn’t exactly the most progressive out there. The independent circuits seemed to be far more accepting and celebratory of their queer talent, whereas WWE was . . . silent. And often for the best, given the company’s track record. It wasn’t even necessarily that he was worried he’d get grief in the locker room. He’d been out at college to his friends, and word had spread to his football team, though no one had ever breathed a word to someone who might have taken that and ran with it. Even though they’d kept quiet to the media, there had still been comments, remarks, some unintentionally ignorant and others purposefully provoking. Roman was used to that. Had grown a thick skin.

What was he worried about, then, if not the judgement from his peers? The media? That made him want to scoff, because he’d already been through hell with the dirt sheets. Maybe it was just a more primal, instinctive fear of being exposed, vulnerable. Just like Becky had made herself when she’d leaned in to kiss his cheek -- and now he was making her sit in that discomfort and rejection while he wallowed in his own internalized shit. Talk about cruel.

Roman cleared his throat as he lowered his hands, meeting Becky’s gaze. “Listen, I . . . It’s not like that. It’s not that you’re not my type of woman. It’s -- I haven’t said this out loud very many times, give me a second.” He took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead and ducking his head to take a moment to compose himself. He trusted Becky: he wanted to tell her. It was just a matter of finding the words. But he wasn’t poetic, wasn’t one to wax pretty prose about things when simple words would suffice just fine. Reason why he shook his head to himself and once more looked her in the eyes. “Becky, it’s not you. I’m gay.”

                           but I do keep promises. 

            &&  I promise you,