Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2019 23:19:21 GMT -5
The two walked off the interview set in stride. Passed a couple stage hands, took a turn into a vacant conference room. Mike gave a furtive glance to the left, then the right. Made sure no one was following or had seen them slip away before closing the door, twisting the little in-knob lock.
As soon as the lack of intrusion was guaranteed, Mike buried their face in their partner’s chest, fabric and flesh muffling a long, frustrated scream. This was supposed to be different. Everything was supposed to be better now. And in a handful of careless, caustic words, a dumpster that Mike had thought was welded shut had burst open. There’d been support that they had to admit was sweet, including a few adorable bits of fanart, but right along with it had been nasty jealous salvos on both sides- and some even worse garbage, from pearl-clutching ‘concern’ over a possible case of Stockholm’s to even more ridiculous accusations of being an accomplice to a false exoneration of a man an entire country away that Mike hadn’t even known yet.
All of it laced with the same question varying in tone and verbiage. Are you Together/In Love/Dating/Fucking. How long, why didn’t you say so, isn’t it hypocritical that you hid it?
They just couldn’t hold it in any longer, but something audible- truly audible- would’ve just raised even more eyebrows. So Mike screamed into the only- and frankly, best- safe haven they had close at hand, until they physically couldn’t anymore and were left panting, shoulders trembling hard. Their face stayed where it was.
John stood there, weathered the storm. A multitude of things rushed through his mind including a promise made a few months. But this wasn’t on Mike or his terms. John was used to that by now. Used to being stepped on, used to having special moments ripped away from him. But that was never his concern. It was the mystery of all of this that concerned him, “What now?”
“I don’t know. I have no fuckin’ idea.”
Their words were breathless, panting, as well as muffled. They felt like something in them was cracking like the face of an antique doll and yet were unwilling to break. The pressure was terrible yet they were unwilling to crumble. Maybe if it were just them it wouldn’t be worth it. Maybe if it were just them they’d curl up into a ball and vanish and before long everyone would forget they even existed, and move on and find something else to torment having used up their current source of sport to nothing.
But it wasn’t just them. He was there. He was worth it, it was worth it to steel up and do their damnedest to try and carry him over ten thousand hells, because he just didn’t deserve it. None of it to now and not an ounce more. That was what Mike believed.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, they pulled back just enough to allow themselves to look up. They looked very tired, not just the sort staved off with a nap but something that cut deep. Perhaps they were aware of that fact because they cleared their throat a bit, bringing up a hand to rub a slight smear of dampness from their eyes. Tried to put their brave, resolute face back on. Everything’ll be just fine, yes sir. Maybe not now, but soon! Really!
“...what do you think?”
The same question pitched at Emily before. Completely different tone and context. John looked at them blankly but there was something going on, something formulating.
“With this?” he paused, it would be easy to leap to conclusions, “Nothing changes for this business.”
That could be construed as naive. Frankly, much has changed. John felt anger towards Brenna Gordon but she wasn’t responsible for observing what was clearly there. There was a part of him that wanted to back him down but that person seemed unreachable. Can’t go back.
“I guess people know.”
“Yeah. Kinda woulda been nice to tell ‘em ourselves. In a way that woulda resulted in less of a monsoon-level shitstorm.”
They stayed close even as they tugged themselves back from a probably unknown brink, face unburied but cheek finding a comfortable place against now slightly rumpled and dampened cotton. Silence reigned for a few moments. Mike’s breath was finding a more normal cadence, the steady sound of John’s heartbeat soothing what was frazzled, jangling, and frayed inside them.
There was the previous temptation lurking about. There was a sneaking suspicion that if they’d altogether disappeared that the detractors would revel in it. But maybe he would, too. It was an ugly thought but not unfounded. He had to combat the notion of the comfort or maybe just complacency towards being forgotten about for nearly half his life. And then one day, he is ripped from that protective yolk and exposed to everything he had been hidden away from. And here comes Mike McGuire. Showing that someone, if even just one person, understands what it means to be John Bishop Church. So after all of this, hiding wasn’t an option. And in these situations, he usually stood, rigid as a pillar - unsure of how to reciprocate. At this point, he felt like the two were mourning a poorly kept secret. He felt anger coursing through him because all signs seemed to be pointing at him.
“Mike. I don’t know what this is. Maybe you do. I know others can probably draw their own conclusions. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes I feel like I’m keeping secrets from myself about myself. And the most frustrating part of that? Seems like everyone else knows. It feels like I’m the problem.”
“You keep saying that. It’s not true,” their tone wasn’t annoyed so much as it was sad. Something danced to the tip of their tongue. Something suggested to them by a friend several months back, something that made uncanny sense at the time and made more sense the more research they did. It was something that they’d been trying to think of how to pass along for ages. There just seemed no easy or opportune way to break it to him. But the more they held it off, the more John seemed to turn the problem inward and assume that the problem was himself. It was something that hurt Mike’s heart more than nearly anything else.
Looking up again, they reached up, one hand caressing his cheek with a tenderness no one else was privy to.
“It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna go to Egypt and we’re gonna win those titles. But I think…”
Inhale. Exhale.
“When we get home after, there’s somethin’... well, we’ll figure it out together.”
As soon as the lack of intrusion was guaranteed, Mike buried their face in their partner’s chest, fabric and flesh muffling a long, frustrated scream. This was supposed to be different. Everything was supposed to be better now. And in a handful of careless, caustic words, a dumpster that Mike had thought was welded shut had burst open. There’d been support that they had to admit was sweet, including a few adorable bits of fanart, but right along with it had been nasty jealous salvos on both sides- and some even worse garbage, from pearl-clutching ‘concern’ over a possible case of Stockholm’s to even more ridiculous accusations of being an accomplice to a false exoneration of a man an entire country away that Mike hadn’t even known yet.
All of it laced with the same question varying in tone and verbiage. Are you Together/In Love/Dating/Fucking. How long, why didn’t you say so, isn’t it hypocritical that you hid it?
They just couldn’t hold it in any longer, but something audible- truly audible- would’ve just raised even more eyebrows. So Mike screamed into the only- and frankly, best- safe haven they had close at hand, until they physically couldn’t anymore and were left panting, shoulders trembling hard. Their face stayed where it was.
John stood there, weathered the storm. A multitude of things rushed through his mind including a promise made a few months. But this wasn’t on Mike or his terms. John was used to that by now. Used to being stepped on, used to having special moments ripped away from him. But that was never his concern. It was the mystery of all of this that concerned him, “What now?”
“I don’t know. I have no fuckin’ idea.”
Their words were breathless, panting, as well as muffled. They felt like something in them was cracking like the face of an antique doll and yet were unwilling to break. The pressure was terrible yet they were unwilling to crumble. Maybe if it were just them it wouldn’t be worth it. Maybe if it were just them they’d curl up into a ball and vanish and before long everyone would forget they even existed, and move on and find something else to torment having used up their current source of sport to nothing.
But it wasn’t just them. He was there. He was worth it, it was worth it to steel up and do their damnedest to try and carry him over ten thousand hells, because he just didn’t deserve it. None of it to now and not an ounce more. That was what Mike believed.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, they pulled back just enough to allow themselves to look up. They looked very tired, not just the sort staved off with a nap but something that cut deep. Perhaps they were aware of that fact because they cleared their throat a bit, bringing up a hand to rub a slight smear of dampness from their eyes. Tried to put their brave, resolute face back on. Everything’ll be just fine, yes sir. Maybe not now, but soon! Really!
“...what do you think?”
The same question pitched at Emily before. Completely different tone and context. John looked at them blankly but there was something going on, something formulating.
“With this?” he paused, it would be easy to leap to conclusions, “Nothing changes for this business.”
That could be construed as naive. Frankly, much has changed. John felt anger towards Brenna Gordon but she wasn’t responsible for observing what was clearly there. There was a part of him that wanted to back him down but that person seemed unreachable. Can’t go back.
“I guess people know.”
“Yeah. Kinda woulda been nice to tell ‘em ourselves. In a way that woulda resulted in less of a monsoon-level shitstorm.”
They stayed close even as they tugged themselves back from a probably unknown brink, face unburied but cheek finding a comfortable place against now slightly rumpled and dampened cotton. Silence reigned for a few moments. Mike’s breath was finding a more normal cadence, the steady sound of John’s heartbeat soothing what was frazzled, jangling, and frayed inside them.
There was the previous temptation lurking about. There was a sneaking suspicion that if they’d altogether disappeared that the detractors would revel in it. But maybe he would, too. It was an ugly thought but not unfounded. He had to combat the notion of the comfort or maybe just complacency towards being forgotten about for nearly half his life. And then one day, he is ripped from that protective yolk and exposed to everything he had been hidden away from. And here comes Mike McGuire. Showing that someone, if even just one person, understands what it means to be John Bishop Church. So after all of this, hiding wasn’t an option. And in these situations, he usually stood, rigid as a pillar - unsure of how to reciprocate. At this point, he felt like the two were mourning a poorly kept secret. He felt anger coursing through him because all signs seemed to be pointing at him.
“Mike. I don’t know what this is. Maybe you do. I know others can probably draw their own conclusions. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes I feel like I’m keeping secrets from myself about myself. And the most frustrating part of that? Seems like everyone else knows. It feels like I’m the problem.”
“You keep saying that. It’s not true,” their tone wasn’t annoyed so much as it was sad. Something danced to the tip of their tongue. Something suggested to them by a friend several months back, something that made uncanny sense at the time and made more sense the more research they did. It was something that they’d been trying to think of how to pass along for ages. There just seemed no easy or opportune way to break it to him. But the more they held it off, the more John seemed to turn the problem inward and assume that the problem was himself. It was something that hurt Mike’s heart more than nearly anything else.
Looking up again, they reached up, one hand caressing his cheek with a tenderness no one else was privy to.
“It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna go to Egypt and we’re gonna win those titles. But I think…”
Inhale. Exhale.
“When we get home after, there’s somethin’... well, we’ll figure it out together.”