Chapter 1: Raised Better Than That
Chapter Text
On a scale from one to desperate, this was pathetic.
And yet his finger still clicks on the app.
It's currently some insane hour of the night that he shouldn't be up to see, and he's downloading some insane app he shouldn't waste his time on, just hoping some insane person he shouldn't deserve would give him an ounce of attention.
He never even heard of it until the disastrous mix of insomnia and loneliness led him down a rabbit hole of ads on Instagram.
A ton of gorgeous women boasted about how MeetMe led them to their hunky husbands and beautiful besties. So after scrolling through the comments in the dead silence of his hotel room --minus the obnoxiously loud air conditioning unit cooling the room to a morgue-- he said fuck it and decided to give it a shot.
The app's homescreen is violently colorful, enough to make his lip curl in disgust, and a tiny part of him knows it's a partial disgust in himself for even downloading it in the first place.
But Jey can't do this anymore. The rigorous schedule, the constant jet lag, the empty hotel rooms, the physical demand, the fleeting happiness in his life. It's all too much to handle alone.
Sure, he's got Jimmy and Solo, that's a given, and Roman when there's no cameras around, but he craves a different kind of union. He can't sit around third-wheeling with his brother and Naomi anymore, it's just getting pitiful.
More pitiful than typing in a fake screen name for the app? Not by a long shot.
No way he's using any name he regularly goes by, so after tapping his thumbs together and nibbling his lip raw, he lands on Jule, a tweak to the name he used when he started in the indies.
The app doesn't ask for his birthday or email, and instead just gives him a half-hearted pop-up about the dangers of online chat sites before throwing him immediately into a loading screen.
Jey sits up slightly, unaware that he wouldn't even get a damn second to breathe before matching with a random stranger. By the time the pillow behind him sinks completely under his weight, he's already entered a chat.
Kate: heyyy
Jey blinks, already uncomfortable. This isn't like him, he's normally a socialite, feeding from attention and conversation. But something about all this skeeves him out. It's too late though, it feels wrong to leave the poor girl hanging, he was raised better than that.
Jule: What's up?
Kate's response is suspiciously instantaneous and cheap, leaving him disappointed even though he just spent the last thirty seconds internally bitching over how uncomfortable he is.
Kate: if u wanna see me naked, add me on my snapchat kateeexxx
Jey may be in his thirties, complaining about the confusing changes in technology--he was forever partial to his blackberry--but he knows damn well what a bot is, and he doesn't stick around for whatever virus she plans to give him or his phone.
Okay, rough start, but maybe he'll give it another shot for science or whatever. His teeth return to his lip as the loading screen carries him to another chat room.
Quinn: AGL?
Well shit, he must be thirty-seven going on seventy-two because what kind of slang is this? Maybe autocorrect? His thumbs tap out his safe introduction.
Jule: What's up?
Quinn: M32
No, he's definitely seventy-two because it seems Quinn's trying to play fucking bingo with him. Jey stares at the screen for way too long, brain in overdrive, racking his memory for any sort of slang the teens are saying these days.
Quinn has ended the chat.
Jey groans aloud, dropping his phone in his lap and rubbing his tired eyes. Great. He's struck out twice. Those sleazy harlots on the ads lied to him. This isn't a fun and easy social app, this is just a nuisance.
He's smart enough to know when he's got to give up, so he snags his phone with intent to delete this app and return to his regularly scheduled isolation, before realizing he's now entered another chat.
Before he can throw away his whole "raised right" morals and click out, the person responds in a matter that stops him.
Miza: Hi, how are you?
That's...refreshing actually. Somewhat sad that a standard greeting is how low his bar is set, but it's better than bots and bingo.
Jule: What's up?
Miza: A word used to
describe
a higher position or level.
Miza: Or a 2009 animated film that fucking ROCKS.
Jey feels the corners of his lips twitching upward, his brain ringing like a casino over a newfound acquaintance.
Jule: Pixar is mid, Disney is way better
Miza: You're really going to sit there and tell me Cars, Toy Story and Monsters Inc are mid?
Jule: Mid.
Miza: They really need to do background checks on this app because I'm talking to a fucking lunatic right now.
Jule: And I'm talking to an idiot right now, it seems pretty fair to me.
Miza: Keep talking like that and I'm taking my happy ass right out of this chatroom.
Jule: Do it then, loser.
The warmth in Jey's chest chills quicker than he'd care to admit when Miza stops typing back. He waits impatiently for thirty seconds before thumbing in a response to see if he's even still connected.
Jule: Are you there?
The response comes quick, and Jey releases the breath he didn't even know he was holding.
Miza: Gotcha
Jule: That's messed up
Miza: You missed me, didn't you?
Jule: Missed the person I've know for like three minutes, yeah right
Miza: "Are you there?"
Miza: You totally missed me
Miza: Simp
Jule: I just thought my WiFi disconnected
Jule: You're like next to last on my importance list
Miza: I'm not even last? God, you move quick.
Miza: Should I tell my parents about us?
Jey can't help but beam, sliding further under the sheets to shield his goosebumped skin from the cold air in his room. It's one of those giggly colds, where getting warm under the sheets makes him want to squeal and thrash against the fabric. And it's somewhat obvious to him that Miza is only heightening the feeling, but he reminds himself to calm down.
He can't get excited over a girl he's known for five minutes. Sure, she's witty, polite, and funny, but that's only on the surface. Unfortunately though, he's the same level of desperate as he is a hopeless romantic, and he attaches to her instantly.
They spend the rest of the night chatting, with Jey fighting to keep his eyes open for the better half of it. He's unsure when he actually crashed, but in what feels like two seconds, his alarm is squawking and strips of sunlight seep into his room from the curtains.
He feels like such an idiot for falling asleep on her, but when he opens his nearly dead phone to their messages, she clearly never took any offense.
Miza: Jule?
Miza: "Are you there?" LOL
Miza: Oh, you probably fell asleep on me. All those typos you were making are starting to make sense now.
Miza: That or you're just illiterate. Maybe both.
Miza: Sleep good, Jule. I hope we talk again tomorrow. :)
It feels ridiculous the way his heart twirls in his chest. She's beyond sweet, the kind of sweet that makes him want to brush his teeth ten more times to avoid the cavity she'll give him. But one time will suffice, especially when a familiar beat raps into his hotel door, a warning, before the beep of a keycard unlocks the door.
"Hey, Jimmy," Jey mumbles through toothpaste foam before he spits it into the sink.
"Don't sound so excited to see me," Jimmy enters the bathroom, meeting Jey's eyes in the mirror.
"I'm just tired," Jey wipes his mouth carelessly on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, causing Jimmy to frown and snag a nearby towel. "Move," He replicates Jimmy's look as his brother stands in the doorframe.
"You were raised better than that," Jimmy mumbles, wiping the residual toothpaste and saliva off the fabric.
Jey's eyes instinctively squeeze shut briefly, as if ridding the memory of that quote from the pathetic endeavors of last night. "I gotta wash this one anyways," He says, tugging his arm away from his brother's hands and slipping through a gap to escape any more chastising.
"Can you not be like this all day, man?" The older narrows his eyes. "Travel days are already stressful as is and I don't want to have to ignore you to protect my peace."
Jey sighs, rubbing his hands down his face, more violent around his eyes, before taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay, sorry."
His brother softens slightly. "When did you fall asleep last night?"
"Late," Jey starts grabbing his things, throwing them carelessly into the open suitcase in the corner he's been living out of.
Jimmy starts helping, grabbing clothes and toiletries, organizing them into the mess of the suitcase, giving more care to them than Jey ever has. "I'm beside Ludwig on the plane. Trade seats with him and you can sleep on me."
That actually sounds like the best idea ever, bonus points that he's already beside Gunther, so it's an equal trade all around. But if he's beside Jimmy, there's no shot he'll be able to text Miza, the name that is seemingly tattooed into the back of his brain, without his twin's wandering eyes noticing.
He's given up sleep for Miza already, so why stop now? And at least he'd spare his poor brother's new hoodie from drool.
"I'll be fine," Jey snags his suitcase from Jimmy. "I wanted to talk to Gunther about his match with Sheamus anyways."
Jimmy doesn't look convinced, he never does when Jey attempts to bullshit him. It's just the way its always been, they know each other far too well, as if they're not even their own separate people but mere extensions of one another.
Jey can see Jimmy's gears turning, deciding if he wants to pick this battle, while Jey stays tense, a silent warning that he shouldn't. Their brown eyes are glued together, communicating without a single spoken word, a talent and a curse that their friends and family have grown to hate at times.
Within ten quiet seconds, they've argued, apologized, and agreed to put a pin in it until Jey's less exhausted and Jimmy's less frustrated, and break eye contact to start toward the door.
"Here's your key back," Jimmy hands Jey the spare he always demands from his brother the moment they arrive at any hotel.
"Sure this ain't Naomi's?" Jey flips the card around in his hand. "Or yours?"
There's been more than one occasion where the older mixes up the three keys he constantly has in his possession, and they have to waste three minutes testing each key before returning them to the front desk.
Jey does like knowing his brother can easily reach him at any given point, and it makes him smile when Jimmy pops in unannounced with snacks or a drink and the intent to watch a movie.
Though, he's got a chip on his shoulder over not having Jimmy's key, which he always feels guilty about seeing that it makes sense Naomi would have it instead. But sometimes he wishes he could walk into Jimmy's room to talk when the nagging in his head becomes too aggressive to handle on his own.
And that's all what led him to Miza, who he hasn't yet forgot about, and who clearly hasn't forgot about him from the current eruption of buzzing in his pocket.
"I'm sure," Jimmy confirms. "Already returned mine and gave Naomi hers before I came to get you."
"You finally got your shit together," Jey teases. "Only took you ten years."
Jimmy rolls his eyes as his fingers find the call elevator button. "At least I have my shit together."
Jey's smile falls off his face, instead finding it's way to Jimmy's. He doesn't frown longer than a second, because he physically can't force a pout when his brother laughs himself silly.
"It wasn't even that funny," Jey says between stifled giggles, some part of him unable to keep himself from laughing along with Jimmy.
"Sorry, sorry," Jimmy says after a moment, waving himself off. "When I said that I noticed your toothpaste stain and couldn't hold it in anymore."
Jey lifts his arm, finding the white splotch easily on the black fabric, grumbling a swear and picking at it with his fingernail.
"Come on, uce, we can still make breakfast," Jimmy says once the doors open, nudging his distracted brother from the elevator and toward the dining area off the main lobby.
Jey doesn't crave breakfast as much as he craves texting Miza, who reminds him of her presence with yet another buzz, but he mumbles something about bacon and splits off from his twin.
While Jimmy distracts himself with the buffet of hotel breakfast options, Jey sinks into a chair at an empty table and unlocks his phone.
Miza: Good Morning!
Miza: Hope your sleep was worth ignoring me for
Miza: Kidding LOL
Miza: I'd happily get another two hours of shitty sleep to spend all night talking with you.
Miza: Well shit, now I'm the one moving quick.
Miza: Your turn to tell your parents about us
Jey can't contain the stupid smirk on his face and the glowing blush burning his cheeks, so he lowers his head and forces himself to fix his face.
Jule: Good morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you.
Jule: It's been like six hours since we met, how are you simping so bad?
Jule: Loser.
"Not hungry?"
Jey's head pops up fast, instinctively turning his phone off. It's just Roman, sitting down across from him with a cup of juice and a bowl of Fruit Loops.
"Line was long for the pancake machine," The younger covers quick with the first lie he could think, standing before Roman can question it. "And I thought I'd save us all table," He says, tacking on a better lie before walking off to the array breakfast options.
When he first started wrestling, he adored getting up early and housing plates of free hotel breakfast, mainly because he was too broke at the time to afford anything else. And while the nostalgia factor still draws him in, he's become too sick of it now. Still, he grabs a flimsy styrofoam plate and takes a bit of almost everything before returning to the table, where Jimmy attempts to stack bland scrambled eggs on a poorly toasted slice of wheat.
"Use the bread as a taco shell of sorts," Roman says in a giggle, reaching out to catch the falling eggs.
"Or just eat it separate like a person with manners," Jey says as he sits, biting back a smile when Jimmy turns briefly with downturned lips.
"I've seen your ass put spaghetti on pizza, I don't wanna hear it," Jimmy huffs.
"There you go!" Roman cheers after a silent fifteen seconds, eyes locked on the breakfast "taco" Jimmy holds awkwardly in his hand.
It's impossible not to grin when Jimmy shows it off like it's his crowning achievement, smile splitting his face, eyes bright. Roman beams through a bite of his cereal and Jey offers a golf clap for the final moments of the "taco's" existence before half disappears into the black hole that is his brother's mouth.
Everything feels perfect for a couple seconds. Just him and his best friends, his brothers, his blood, sitting around a table in some random city being complete idiots in their own happy bubble. He wishes he could live in this moment, never leave it, even if that means watching pieces of half eaten egg and toast fall from Jimmy's mouth for the rest of his life.
"Hey, guys!"
And as soon as the bliss begins, it's over. A pin pops his happy bubble, the pin being the most agitating person to ever exist.
Sami.
"Hey, Sami," Roman chirps, nodding to Jimmy. "He's kinda got his mouth full."
"It's a taco!" Jimmy says excitedly, spitting a chunk of gunk on the table. "Oh, sorry," He mumbles, using a napkin to clean it off while he holds his hand protectively over his mouth.
Jey snags a look at Sami through his brows, and yep, he still hates the motherfucker. WWE assigned Sami to The Bloodline in a move that has since wrecked Jey's entire life. The pale, copper-haired Canadian has brought him nothing but strife, and the worst part is, he's completely alone in his hatred.
Jimmy, Roman, and Solo invited him in almost immediately with open arms; bringing him into their locker room, into their car, into dinner plans, into their fucking family.
He can't stand to even think about Sami. He's like glitter, too bright, too cheerful, and he never fucking goes away.
"Hey, Jey," Sami offers a smile, a touch forced which means Roman or Jimmy recently chastised him for bickering with Jey.
Jey doesn't respond, instead crinkling his nose and keeping his eyes down at the piece of pork he's been mindlessly stabbing with his fork.
A sharp elbow to his ribs jolts him, his eyes moving to the left to meet his twin's, who's already shooting daggers at him for his rude behavior.
"You were raised better than that," Jimmy whispers in a warning, making Jey's eyes squeeze shut again in embarrassment and frustration.
"Hi," Jey says sharply, not even so much as directed at Sami as his eyes don't leave his brother's, offering a passive-aggressive head tilt as if asking 'you happy?'
It's clear from Jimmy's twitching upper lip and cold eyes that he's already completely over Jey today, in less than an hour too, which has to be a new record.
Jey doesn't care, he's too irritable, and he can't stand sitting here anymore under the gaze of his twin, his cousin, and the fuckface to his right. He stands quick, snagging his suitcase and abandoning his plate, eyes down at the floor.
"Come back without the attitude," Jimmy calls after him, followed by some sort of soft scolding from Roman about adding fuel to a fire.
Jey would turn around and deck his ass, but unfortunately, Jimmy isn't totally out of line here, but he would never admit that to his face. Instead, he finds a quiet corner of the hotel lobby to wait, opening up the chat with Miza like an obsessed fanboy, immediately smiling at her replies.
Miza: Loser??? Me???
Miza: ACTUALLY, I just looked it up and a loser is defined as someone who thinks Pixar is mid and falls asleep on their new best friend.
Miza: It sounds more like you, Jule. Hate to break it to you.
Miza: But I'm a fucking SAINT and I'll put up with you :)
Miza: But nobody else would so you probably shouldn't flirt with anyone else.
Jey can't help but chuckle at her excessive punctuation and capitalization, yet another odd thing he's grown to enjoy about her. It's unlike anyone he's ever texted. She's so animated and funny, and a breath of fresh air in his stagnant lungs.
For once, he's glad it's a travel day. He'll welcome all the stress that comes with it if it means a couple more empty hours of chatting with Miza.
Chapter 2: Fate
Summary:
After a long day of travel and arguing, Jey speaks with Miza, who seems to move quick, just as obsessed with him as he is her. He knows it's fate, it has to be.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Hell no," Jey growls as he watches the driver push the seat forward for Sami to climb into the back row.
"I ain't doing this with you again," Jimmy shakes his head, watching Roman and Solo place everyone's bags in the trunk. "You two are the shortest ones so y'all have to sit in the back."
"I'm the same height as Solo! Why can't he sit back there instead?" Jey argues.
"Same height as Solo in shoes maybe," Jimmy grabs their bags and walks them to the trunk. "I'm tired of having this same fight with you every week. It's a fifteen minute car ride, you'll live."
Jey's tired of having it too, but he's absolutely too stubborn to drop it. Someone told him that squeaky wheels always get oil, so always keep fighting for what you want.
"Car, now." Jimmy's hand finds his shoulder, pushing him toward the gap to the backseat that the driver holds open.
That someone has clearly never met his older brother.
Jey snaps his jaw shut, a permanent scowl etched onto his face, only worsened when his eyes meet a pair of light brown eyes, which buzz with animosity.
He doesn't say a word to Sami as he take his usual seat in the back, directing his eyes Jimmy and Solo, who slide into the middle row, a nice gap in between them for him to take notice of Roman in the roomy passengers seat.
The burning fire of anger inside him refuels the more he stares at the iniquity. Something inside him snaps when Sami's shoulder brushes his as the car takes a turn, and when the rough road causes his knees bump consistently against the seat in front of him.
"We should make a turn system or somethin'," Jey declares.
By the reactions of the car, mostly sighs and eye rolls, nobody cares to entertain his idea, probably because he's a broken record week after week.
"Can we just have one car ride where you ain't complaining?" Jimmy groans.
"Maybe I wouldn't complain if I wasn't always stuffed in the back with him."
"What have I done to you?" Sami turns to him, an edge in his voice.
"Where should I start?" Jey cocks his head.
"No, seriously, Jey," He crosses his arms. "From the moment I joined The Bloodline, you've treated me like garbage!"
"Because you don't deserve to be here! You a rat! You ain't blood!"
Sami opens his mouth to yell back, but a hand reaches out to clamp over it. "Both of you shut the hell up," Solo growls, and for once, it's actually enough to stop them both.
They each get a regular earful from Jimmy and Roman about their constant arguments, scolding them like young kids to quiet them down for a period of time before the next disagreement inevitably erupts.
But Solo usually chooses to stay out of it entirely, sometimes even putting in headphones and zoning out on social media while they go at it. The fact that he even acknowledged their bickering at all is enough of a warning.
The rest of the car ride is uncomfortably silent aside from whatever talk radio show the driver has on, and Jey starts pondering the idea of starting another argument just so he doesn't have to listen some bias guy discuss politics.
Instead, he behaves, such a rarity for him that he may have to mark it down in his calendar, and stares out the window thinking of his happy person.
Even after more nine hours of talking every second they could, he's still unable to find a single flaw in Miza. It's crazy how someone he's known for for fifteen hours has impacted his life so greatly. It has to be his criminal desperation paired with nearly a decade being single, because there's no way he'd fall so hard for someone he hasn't even seen.
He's started imagining what she could look like in his spare time waiting for her replies. Miza sounds vaguely Egyptian, but that could just be his brain connecting the similarity between Miza and Giza. Yet, he can't shake the idea of perfect clear coffee skin, healthy dark curls, twinkling brown doe eyes, and full glossy lips, so he fantasizes Miza as just that.
He's sure her teeth are pearly white when she smiles at her own stupid jokes and her laugh is amazingly harmonic when she teases Jey relentlessly. He hopes she's somewhere in the world doing the same thing, hand pressed against her rosy cheek daydreaming of what Jey--Jule--could look like.
Would she be disappointed if he didn't match up to her expectations? The mere thought makes his stomach sick, but it begs the same question for him, and after a minute or so, he knows for sure he wouldn't be.
Miza could be big or small, she could be blonde or brunette, she could be white or black or fucking green for all he cares. She's still the most beautiful person to him, and her apperance won't ever change that.
"As much as I'd love to sit here and watch you stare at the stars for twenty more minutes, I think I'd rather go to bed." Sami's irritated voice interuppts his thoughts, snapping him from his utopian trance and immediately throwing him back into his harsh reality.
Only after shooting Sami a death stare does he realize he's the center of attention for the four men around him, mainly because while everyone has vacated the car, he's still sitting, strapped in, and therefore trapping Sami beside him.
This moment will easily be a subject of torment from his twin for the rest of his life, he knows even without having to look at the smile Jimmy's covering poorly with his hand. And it's not any better than Sami got an open net opportunity to mock him. It won't happen, he won't let it.
"Oh!" Jey exclaims with false shock. "I'm so sorry, man. I was just tryin' to wish on every star I saw that you'd finally disappear and I wanted to make sure I didn't miss a single damn one."
The smirks on everyone's faces fall fast, leaving Jey triumphant as he hops out of the car and grabs his suitcase. He takes three, maybe four, steps toward the hotel door before a hand tightens around his bicep and tugs him aside.
"What is wrong with you?" Roman whispers, disappointment written on his features. "You don't have to like him, but act like a freakin' adult."
"Why do you always take his side?" Jey bites back.
"Don't say that," Roman's eyes darken. "You know I always call him out when he does it too."
Any argument Jey has back to him is tailspun because he's totally right, and he always fucking is. Out of everyone he knows, Roman's the most level-headed, just person. And the way he stares at Jey with no anger, just discontent, proves he isn't taking sides.
"I'm not telling you to be his best friend, but treat him with respect."
"Tell that to him too," Jey grumbles.
"I have," Roman's eyes bounce to the Canadian hiking his backpack over his shoulders. "And he's tried--"
"No, he--"
"Yes, he has. But you keep making snide remarks and it's pissing him off. So please try a little harder to be nice."
Jey sucks in a breath, releasing it in a quick exaggerated sigh before nodding. "Alright."
"Promise?" Roman holds up his pinkie, a childish gesture but a huge oath, that breaks the tension slightly.
"Promise," The younger links their fingers, giving a tight squeeze before releasing.
In a sort of apology he doesn't need to be giving, Roman slings his arm around Jey's shoulder as they walk into the hotel. He does this often after he corrects Jey's behavior, as if trying to fix any bad blood that was never there.
"I'm never mad at you, uce," Jey mumbles as they pause at the front desk, watching Jimmy check in. "You don't need to feel bad for keeping me from breaking someone's nose."
Roman's lips twitch upward, squeezing Jey's shoulder and pulling him closer. "I just don't want you to feel like I'm parenting you," He gives another tight squeeze before releasing Jey altogether. "I know you're an grown ass man who can make his own decisions, but I just want to..." He trails off, watching Jimmy step away from the desk. "Help...I guess."
While words escape him, Jey knows exactly what he means. Being the oldest out of the group, he's always taken a sort of responsibility to protect everyone. He always checks in with them, looks out for them, makes sure they're happy, fixes whatever is broken, cleans up the messes. Jey can't imagine all that's easy, and he almost wishes Roman would take some of the pressure off himself, but that just won't happen regardless of what Jey says.
The receptionist meets his eyes, offering a forced customer service smile that begs him to grab his key and go so she can return to whatever the hell she was doing before they walked in.
"That's why you're my favorite cousin," Jey offers a warm smile, watching his cousin relax as he replicates it.
While Jey tries his best to give back to Roman for all he does; paying for his meals, washing his clothes, overwhelming him with 'thank you's, but nothing ever seems to mean as much to Roman as a genuine smile, evidence that all he's doing for them is working.
The receptionist checks him in quick, torturing them both with small talk before sliding his keys over the counter and wishing him a good night.
"Gimme," Jimmy approaches him immediately, palm face up expectantly.
"You do know the world ain't endin' if you don't have my spare key for one night?"
Jimmy frowns. "Gimme," He demands again, moving his hand slightly downward.
"You actin' like Roman asking Paul for the mic," Jey notices.
It doesn't take more than a second for Jimmy to completely get into character, adjusting his frown into a bored and annoyed stony expression. He reaches out again, but in an exaggerated movement, palm up and painfully impatient.
So Jey fully commits as well, replicating Paul's immense delight down to the raised eyebrows and pursed smile, and carefully delivers the spare key to Jimmy's waiting hand.
"Makin' fun of me over here?" Roman appears, shoulders bouncing as he giggles.
"Almost always," Jimmy beams, tucking the key safe in his pocket. "Jey does a pretty good Heyman if you want another wise man. Then I could be the right-hand man instead."
"One decent Roman impression, and now you're tryna call the shots," The youngest rolls his eyes with a grin, turning to Roman. "I say we kick him off the island."
"I think I'll stick with who I got right now," Roman smirks, nudging Jimmy toward Solo and Sami, who take slow steps toward the elevator, waiting for the trio.
"Thanks for not replacing me," Jey bumps their shoulders together as they walk. "Not that you'd wanna, then you'd just be downgradin'."
The taller laughs. "I never would do that, Jey," He says before casually leaning down to Jey's ear, lowering his voice. "Because you're my favorite cousin too."
●●●
Jey can't throw down his things fast enough, not caring about the fragile items or electronics more than checking his messages with Miza, something he hasn't done since before they took off four hours ago.
Miza: Your pants?
Miza: Joking, joking
Miza: Unless???
Miza: But for real, I'd have to say a pretty island
Miza: Which is literally what EVERYONE says, I know
Miza: Somewhere in Polynesia, maybe. I've never been but I've heard great things.
Miza: What about you?
Jey's heart can't help but skip a beat, reading and re-reading her words. Their last conversation was discussing travel, ironically since they both were doing so today, another excuse to believe they're cosmically intertwined. So he asked her where she'd go given a free ticket anywhere, and God, she really is perfect.
He doesn't know which part to obsess over, the risky but rewarding flirting or the fact she already admires his home.
Jule: I say we both use our alleged free tickets to fly to Polynesia and get into each other's pants there.
Jule: Save a flight.
It bothers him slightly he's not as witty as she is. It takes him five minutes to decide on the perfect response but it's never good enough for her. He waits on the screen in case she's done with her travels, just longing for his response the way he does for her.
After ten hours--ten seconds--of waiting, he sighs and finds a way to distract himself until she's active online, which isn't too hard seeing the mess of his items strewn on the hotel carpet.
And as much as he'd rather just leave it and kick it out of the way so he doesn't trip later, there's absolutely nothing better to do until Miza replies, and keeping busy passes the time better.
Five minutes later, the floor and his notifications are both clear, so he huffs and walks aimlessly around the hotel room, tapping his fingers against the surfaces he passes, pausing on the cool surface of the bathroom counter, eyes locked onto the shower.
He should probably take one, kill two, no, three birds with one stone; rinse off the stress of the day, kill time waiting for Miza, and violently scrub the spot where Sami's shoulder touched his.
After just one more desperate check of his phone, he showers, hating the shitty water pressure but loving how it's all free, so he forces himself to stay in there longer than he normally would at home.
It's usually pretty easy to do that, wasting thirty minutes and gallons of water pretending he's giving a speech addressing the nation, thinking of amazing comebacks to arguments from ten years ago, standing at the perfect angle with his arms extended so it appears he's shooting water from his fingertips.
But today those things don't come so naturally. Instead, he finds himself stepping out after only ten short minutes, no speech, no comebacks, no waterbending, with only one thing in mind.
She's hijacked him for sure, kicked him out of the driver's seat of his own mind. But that's not entirely true seeing that he's a completely willing victim.
Miza: You're such a thoughtful environmentalist
Miza: I must know what music you like now
Miza: And that question has NOTHING to do with what we play when we fuck so don't even assume that.
Jule: It kinda sounds like it has everything to do with it
Miza: I may have lied to you just then
Miza: Answer the question so I can start working on a playlist
Jule: Damn chill
Jule: We don't even have tickets yet
Miza: It's called manifesting, Jule
Miza: And I don't think you should be telling me to chill
Miza: If I remember correctly, you're the one who was simping first
Miza: You opened the door, I just walked through it
Jule: I think you got the whole simping thing mixed up, Miza, but I'll let it slide
Jule: I like a ton of music honestly
Miza: Wow, that's so unhelpful, thank you, Jule
Miza: The playlist will consist of both Weird Al Yankovic and Lionel Richie's greatest hits because you can't pick a damn genre
Jule: MIZA
Jule: You're on the right track with Lionel
Jule: We're not fucking to Amish Paradise
Miza: See, that's actually helpful.
Miza: You want slow, soulful songs
Miza: Big fan of missionary, I assume
Jule: Did you just call me vanilla?
Jule: I feel judged
Miza: Well you're only being judged if you are
Jule: That's so rude to all the missionary fans out there
Jule: And for the record, I'm not vanilla
Miza: Good thing they're not the ones I'm trying to sleep with then
Miza: The record will be sure to bring that text up when we fuck
Jule: The record is going to have to wait a while
Miza: :(
Miza: Maybe not too long...
Jule: ???
Miza: Well...
Miza: You ever try sexting?
Jey's eyes widen, blood and heat rushing to his lower half involuntarily. Sure, they were already technically speaking about sex to begin with, but it was just a mutal daydream. A hope. A spark that would eventually burn out with the flame of their relationship after something happens, and something always happens.
Staying single for nearly a decade wasn't entirely a choice. Relationships came and went, and he always left them feeling worse than when he went in. He's been used, cheated on, stood up, ghosted, and after consistent failures, he gave up.
But when desperation called last night, Miza picked up. And something about Miza changes his mind, takes away the worry, gives him confidence in himself and in love.
Jule: No
Jule: You could teach me though
Miza: Oh my god, really?
Miza: So I get to take your sexting virginity?
The words make his eyes widen, both vulgar and forward but really fucking hot for some reason. A worrying thought about how fast they're moving rings in his head, he wonders if it's even really love or if it's lust. Just some gut wrenching hunger for romance and attention that's so bad he's latching onto the first option he's had in years.
But it isn't. He knows it isn't. Because in all those years he was dating, loving, fucking, it was never like this. There was never a connection like this. He never felt so consumed by them, so drunk, so willing.
It feels like it's beyond them. Like something out there willed it into existence. The stars aligned, the planets stopped, the angels conspired, and the invisible string guided them to each other.
And Jey's worry is gone within a second, his thumbs flying across his keyword, commencing with a confident tap of the enter key. He can't--won't-- ignore fate.
Jule: It's all yours, Miza.
Notes:
No smut until next chapter :(
Sorry!
Chapter 3: Seeing Stars
Summary:
In the midst of their steamy sexting exchange, Jey learns Miza is a man, and discovers an entirely new side of himself.
Notes:
I've never written sexting smut so I'm so sorry if this sucks!
Thanks for all the kind comments and support :,)
Chapter Text
Miza: God, Jule
Miza: You're going to kill me
Miza: Fuck okay
Miza: So imagine I'm there
Jey's breathing picks up, a mix of the nerves and the heat pooling in his pants. He knocks his knees together as he waits for it to get good, already having situating himself on the bed, head propped against the pillows.
Jule: Obviously
Miza: and Amish Paradise is playing at full blast
He frowns almost immediately. Not because her joke, because that was actually kind of--totally--funny. On brand for her. But more so because he's somewhat worried this whole sexting thing won't actually be serious like he hopes, making the blood rushing to a dick a total mockery.
Jule: Fuck you
Jule: I'm not immersed anymore
Miza: Sorry, sorry, I had to
Miza: Okay, this time imagine I'm there but there's no Amish Paradise
Jule: I swear to god
Jule: Bring up Amish Paradise again and I'm giving my sexting virginity to someone else
Miza: JULE DON'T
Miza: Forgive me, baby
Miza: I'll be for real this time
The pet name, the first one ever used between them, is enough to fully bring him back into the moment. His lips attach to his teeth, palms slippery against his phone.
Jule: You fucking better
Miza: I'll kiss that attitude right off your lips
Miza: Slip my hands under your shirt
Miza: Move my lips down to your neck
Jey tries to follow along, mimicking her words. He brings his left hand under his shirt and glides his fingertips across his skin, the touch shocking his skin, his muscles tensing as his back arches ever so slightly off the mattress.
It's not easy to type with one hand, but he does anyways, he has to.
Jule: Yeah
Jule: What else?
Miza: Thumb your nipples
Miza: Press my hips to yours and grind
Miza: I bet you sound amazing
Jey's fingers pass over his nipples and god, he's never had such a visceral reaction to anything before. His teeth drive further into his bottom lip, a hard breath escaping through his nose. He toys with them as he responds, thumb shaking.
Jule: More
Miza: You're probably doing it right now
Miza: So desperate
Miza: Slide my hands down your stomach
It's crazy how much the dirty talk works him up. Her words, somewhat condescending, make his dick twitch, rising in his boxes, aching.
Miza: Talk to me, baby
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He half grunts, half whines, and tears his hand off his chest to make his responses quicker so he can get back to the good stuff.
How she's responding so quick, so fast, so lengthy is beyond him. Is she even touching herself? Is this just one-sided? It makes him somewhat self-conscious, but not to the limit of taking him out of the intoxicating lust
Jule: Fuck
Jule: The things I would do anything to have you here
Jule: I'd ruin you
It's not good, not good at all, but he's desperate and horny and god all he wants is for her to say more.
Miza: You've got no idea what you do to me
Miza: My hands wouldn't leave your pants.
Miza: I'd use my mouth when they get tired
He whispers a swear as he pulls down his boxers, grabbing ahold of himself, the mere touch ripping a moan from his throat.
Miza: Whatever you want, I'd do it
Miza: Anything
Miza: I wish I could hear you right now
It's hard to keep his eyes open and his phone upward when every text she sends only intensifies the sensation. His hand moves feverishly, occasionally squeezing, using her words to fuel a growing image in his head.
Miza: I'd pull every moan out of you
Miza: You wouldn't be able to speak after I'm done with you
Miza: Fuck, you make me so hard.
Hard?
Hard?
His hand slowly falters, ears ringing, body heating up as his eyes don't move from the last message. Miza, his beautiful girl, is a guy. A man. With a dick.
The room becomes deafeningly silent as his mouth dries, chest still heaving, dick still throbbing against his skin.
Miza: You're such a slut
Miza: Can't even take your hand off your cock for two seconds to respond
A strangled noise unwillingly leaves his throat, somewhat of a stifled moan, jaw dropped and tense. He thinks he may be crazy but the whole situation is still hot to him. Miza's messages still drive him wild, hips jumping into his hand, and he picks up right where he left off, opening his eyes every few seconds to see if there's another.
Miza: Say something
Miza: Please
Miza: I need it
Miza: Please
Jey could start sobbing from it all. They're both insatiable, desperate, overrun by desire to the point they're just pleading to each other.
He can't type, not well, but he tries for Miza, again wondering how he can do it so well while jerking off.
Jule: Fucj
Jule: Mixq
It's complete gibberish, a swear and his name, but Miza still knows what he meant, he always does.
Miza: Shit
Miza: I'm gonna cum
Miza: Cum for me
It's too much. He's never felt anything like this ever. No hand, no head, no pussy, no nothing has ever felt this fierce. His brain goes dead, eyes rolling back, the heat in his abdomen simmering, phone slipping from his fingers, instead grabbing the sheets to ground him.
His mind flashes to Miza, the way he was begging for Jey to speak to him, aching for anything. He's probably jerking off too, hand never moving as fast as he needs it to, staring at the messages and imagining what Jey's doing to himself in this very moment.
All the messages Miza sent to him stain his memory. The promise to suck Jey dry and make him scream so loud he loses his voice. The oath to give himself up to Jey so he could return the favor. The demand for him to cum, paint his stomach and his hand, all for Miza.
The heat in his abdomen coils and roars, boiling over as he drives his head back into the pillows, his voice breaking as he cries out, back and hips arched off the mattress as he cums.
It's unbelievable how long the high lasts for, his body writhing, hips fucking into his hand, tears running down his face, teeth now clenched so hard they all may shatter. He's covered in it, hand slick as he carries himself through it, muscles tense, lungs aching for more than a shallow breath when he remembers.
The orgasm finishes after maybe twenty seconds, his body finally relaxing, hand dropping to the sheets as he whimpers like dog when his cock twitches and softens. The weightlessness fades slowly into an overwhelming heaviness, exhaustion, his body screaming for recovery from what Miza did to him.
Miza, shit. He's probably waiting for a response, the part of sexting that Jey completely failed to reciprocate properly.
Jule: I'm sorry for not responding much
Jule: I just couldn't
Miza: Don't be.
Miza: Knowing you couldn't only made it hotter for me.
Jule: You're too nice
Jule: But I'll do better next time
Jule: Or at least send a voice message or something instead
Miza: Christ, Jule
Miza: Have mercy, please
Miza: I don't think I'll make it to tomorrow if I get hard again
That word again. It snaps Jey out of his daze, the first shots of a civil war starting in his brain. His concious mind wants to push Miza away, forget what they just did, pretend it never happened, live the rest of his life blaming lust for the way he came.
But his unconscious mind knows that's not the case, and it desperately begs him to lean into the desire, to stay with Miza, explore the side of him that found great interest in learning Miza was a man instead of repress it.
And the latter seems to win the first battle, driving him to dive into the unknown.
Jule: Miza?
Miza: Yeah?
Jule: How'd you know I was a guy?
Miza: What do you mean?
Miza: I always knew
Miza: Am I missing something here?
There's a moment where the text bubbles appear again, prepared to continue questioning. But they disappear by the time Jey blinks. They reappear ten seconds later, an inanimate object but somehow Jey can feel the worry behind them. Miza's worry.
Miza: You didn't know I was, did you?
The shame radiates off the message, shame he shouldn't be feeling, disgusted in himself for not saying something but terrified to know he mislead Jey. He starts panicking, Jey can tell from his rapid responses, barely finishing the last before sending another.
Miza: I'm so sorry
Miza: Jule, I'm so so sorry
Miza: I should have told you
Miza: I thought you knew
Jule: Stop
Jule: I'm the one who assumed wrong
Jule: It's not your fault
Miza: Do you want to stop talking? Forget this ever happened?
Miza: I'd understand
That question. The one Jey's asking himself. The one his brain is in shambles over. The one he can't find the answer to himself.
Yet when Miza asks it, the answer popping in his head first is a resounding 'no' that's closely chased by the shame of his intimidating realization.
He's not gay. Not that he's had any problems with people who are, but he's just never seen the sexual appeal in men. Not until now, at least. Not until Miza touched his heart, marked his brain, and made him cum so hard he's still seeing stars.
Jule: No
Jule: I honestly don't
Miza: Thank god
Miza: I'm sorry, that's probably not the right response
Miza: I just really like you and the idea of losing you sucks
Miza: But I would agree to whatever you wanted so if you change your mind, let me know
Jule: I won't
Jule: Can I ask you something personal?
Miza: Yeah
Miza: It's like six inches hard
Jey cracks a smile, admiring Miza's ability to keep things positive and light-hearted, breaking any accumulating tension. With his mind not gridlocked in worry, he's able to focus on other things, like how he's still laying covered in cum with his dick out.
He's too lazy for a proper clean up, instead stretching his already stained shirt down to his thighs and wiping away the mess, pausing only to respond.
Jule: Not my exact question, but good to know
Jule: I wanted to ask how you found out you were gay
It's a big question, and a part of him almost feels bad asking. But it's not to be malicious or intrusive, more so to compare their experiences, to feel more comfortable in the light of his revelation.
While Miza types, he removes his shirt entirely, tossing into small trashcan by the desk. It's a lost cause at this point, not worth the time and effort to wash. He yanks up his boxers and rolls over to a new spot on the bed, crisp and cold sheets being stark change from the warm and sweaty spot he was just in. Shivering, he curls himself into the fetal position, waiting for the sheets to warm up.
Miza: I wouldn't say I'm gay. Growing up I always felt comfortable in my sexuality. I didn't need to prove my masculinity or defend my femininity. I liked girls, dated girls, fucked girls, but I've also had crushes on some guys in my life. I've never been in a relationship with a guy though, sexual or romantic. But I've always wanted to try it.
Miza: If I had to slap a label on it, it'd be bi-curious.
Miza's story somewhat relaxes him, in a sense that it wasn't something he knew right away, something he couldn't put into words, something Jey couldn't remotely relate to.
Miza: Is it rude if I ask something back to you?
Miza: How do you feel about yourself sexuality wise?
It's polite and well-worded. Something Miza probably thought about asking well before sending the message, planning it in his head, the rough drafts crinkled and discarded in the corner of his brain.
He's respectful and cautious about charting the new territory with Jey. It's a comforting feeling to say the least, warming, starting in his heart and spreading to his body each beat.
Jule: I've never really looked at guys like that
Jule: Some guys are handsome or whatever but it's more of an observation, not a feeling
Jule: Being anything past friends with a man never interested me
Jule: Not until you
It scares him to say, admitting it, acknowledging something so vulnerable, so deep, so new. He's not sure where to go from here. Where to take it. It's not like Miza's any more versed in gay relationships than he is, just more understanding of his own sexuality and desires. It feels like the blind leading the blind.
Miza: Aw, Jule
Miza: Wait
Miza: Omg wait
Miza: Does mean I'M your gay awakening?
Jey cocks his head slightly, a smile loosely on his lips, the term both terrifying and endearing.
Jule: I think you are
Miza: This is an honor
Miza: Holy shit
Miza: I'd like to thank academy for this award
He can't help but laugh, watching Miza continue the acceptance speech over many texts, going on to thank people like the creators of MeetMe, Steve Jobs, and Jey's dad for not wearing a condom.
It amazed him once more that Miza can transform a situation so uncomfortable and worrisome into something so emotional and sentimental. Jey could never do that; look for the positives, find the light, discover a new angle. He's always consumed by his pessimism, stuck clawing at the chains of his mind. Nothing is ever good enough. There's always a dark side to every moon and for some reason, Jey's always found himself tidally locked to that side.
But reading Miza yap on about how much opening Jey's gay third eye means to him creates a drastic change. It throws him into the light. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
There's a whole new side of Jey that Miza discovered, unlocked, cut the ribbon to. A side that scares him, a side he needs to lean into, a side he needs to explore. And watching Miza type his closing remarks, completely committed to the bit, and to Jey, only confirms there's no one he'd rather explore it with.
●●●
His phone does everything short of smack him in the face when it goes off in the morning. He's a heavy sleeper when he does manage to crash, and after sleeping through numerous important meetings and appointments in the past, he's learned to pull out all the tricks for setting alarms.
The device buzzes wildly against the bedside table, the wood emitting a heavy echoey noise in return. His actual alarm tone was downloaded from a site he's glad he didn't get a virus from, a replica noise of one of those obnoxious twin bell alarm clocks that's loud enough to raise someone from the dead.
And yeah, he absolutely fucking despises the noises each morning, a deep rooted hatred for the way he jolts awake with a pounding heart. But he won't change it, he can't, not unless he wants open the opportunity for Jimmy to wake him.
Because unlike his alarm clock, Jimmy would do nothing less than smack him in the face.
Though, when he turns off the sounds of an air raid and actually can hear himself think, his displeasure in being awake fizzles away at the memory of last night.
After Miza's speech ended, the subject soon changed from sexuality to stars to astrology, with Jey learning Miza is oddly proficient in constellations and post-sex conversation.
He would ramble about the star clusters and their history, urging Jey to leave his bed and go look at the stars with him. And he told Miza did, that he was sitting on the chair by his window staring at Orion's Belt, but he was actually buried in his sheets with the blinds closed. But it made Miza happy to think it, and Jey will never tell him otherwise, so it's a victimless crime.
When Miza briefly mentioned an astrogolical constellation, the subject of their star signs closely followed.
Miza: What's your sign? I'll try to find it
Miza: As long as it's in the northern celestial hemisphere
Jule: Do you ever sleep?
Miza: It's only midnight, grandma
Miza: Now tell me your star sign
Jule: I don't know it
Miza: Well look it up
Jule: Okay hold on
Jule: It says I'm a leo
Miza: Nothing about you has ever made more sense than that
Jule: What's that suppose to mean?
Miza: So the Leo constellation is easiest found by looking for the sickle.
Jule: Miza, what does that mean?
Miza: At the base of the sickle is the star Regulus
Jule: Why does it make sense?
Jule: Stop talking
Jule: Answer me first
Miza: That. All of that right there.
Jule: MIZA
Miza: Astrological signs usually have behaviors, traits, items, and other things associated with them. The people with those signs tend to relate heavily to those things.
Miza: So you have a lot of behavior traits of a Leo.
Jule: What are they?
Miza: Confident
Miza: Energetic
Miza: Determined
Miza: Charismatic
Miza: Stubborn
Miza: Vain
Miza: Childish
Jule: You can stop now
Jule: What's your sign? My turn to call you out.
Miza: I'm a cancer
Miza: Our signs are right beside each other in the sky
Yes, Jey vividly remembers how that sentence was the last thing he thought of before falling asleep, even thirty minutes after they said goodnight.
To him, it's proof of that invisible string, that cosmic bond, that fate they have.
And while it meant the world to him that they share the sky so closely, he didn't say it to Miza, instead searching his zodiac so he could find the bad traits and call him out right back.
Miza was right, the descriptions really do match the person. Cancers are nurturing and protective, kind and emotional, devoted and affectionate, and each adjective he read reminded him so greatly of Miza.
Of course, he found a list of the negatives; moody, clingy, dramatic, and threw them in Miza's face. He didn't care, telling Jey that's he's already known all of that about himself and challenging him to find a new way to insult him.
But Jey didn't want to. He couldn't, actually. Searching for a genuine flaw to insult Miza with would be impossible. Like finding the lost city of Atlantis type impossible. He's sure he's got the tenacity to do it, but not at that hour.
Instead, he just prompted Miza with another star question and tugged the sheets over his shoulders, watching his responses fly in with heavy eyelids.
The memory of that feeling washes over him now, even with the stars hidden away by the sun and no idiot rambling about said stars. He can't help but sink back against the mattress, dangerously closing his eyes for an extra five minutes.
Chapter 4: Forcing Smiles
Summary:
Tensions rise and fall between the twins after Jey's forced to play nice during a work out with Sami.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Quiet noises cause Jey to stir, not enough to open his eyes or lift his head, but enough to make him conscious and stretch his right leg out toward the edge of the bed.
The noises don't continue, and Jey feels the exhaustion twirl back around him, beckoning him to return to his slumber.
He does, well, almost does, until the pillow from under his head is yanked away fast. Before he can even register the sharp movement, the pillow comes crashing down on him every other second.
"Wake--"
Smack.
"--the--"
Smack.
"--fuck--"
Smack.
"--up!"
Smack.
It's Jimmy, of course, being a complete asshole about Jey sleeping in. He would have guessed nobody else, even without hearing Jimmy's voice in between his ribs being beaten with a plush object.
"Stop!" Jey groans, drawing out the vowel, putting an arm up in an awful defense of the attack.
"Not until you get up!"
He whines, overwhelmed and frustrated, but Jimmy doesn't seem to care whatsoever about any of that. Instead, striving to make it worse by tugging the sheets off of him.
Being doused in the icy air only fuels the anger rumbling in his chest. He cracks his eyes open and reaches out for the pillow beside him, hurling it so hard into Jimmy's stomach that the older stumbles backward.
Jey sits up on his elbows, turning to his brother, who's doubled over slightly, lip curled up as he grumbles a swear.
"You deserved that shit," He spits. "Stop playin'."
"I was tryna help!" Jimmy wheezes. "We gotta get a lift in before media."
Media. Shit. He wishes it was just a workout. He could get away with bribing Jimmy out of that. The older can never turn down Chick-Fil-A, especially while they're down south. But media is inescapable, a commitment beyond them. No amount of chicken can convince Hunter to cancel the interview so Jey can dream sweetly of his secret lover.
A part of him wonders if Miza has ever seen him around on the internet. With all the media he does, there could be a chance. But that's just wishful. He's not mainstream like Lebron James or Tiger Woods. Not global. But maybe this interview could be the one reach him.
He wonders if Miza would see it, notice Jey, use him as a baseline for what he imagines Jule to be. It's ridiculous sounding, but hell, Miza already admires Polynesia. He'd probably be elated that he's talking with a Samoan.
"When is the interview?" Jey reaches for his phone, yanking it off the charger.
"Noon," Jimmy rubs his abdomen, face scrunched, the pillow in his hand falling to his feet.
It's only ten now, more than enough time for Jey to have slept peacefully for a couple more minutes. He ponders arguing that point, but it'd be fruitless, even if he won. He's too awake to fall back asleep anyway, a ball of energy growing in his chest over the potential for Miza to see this interview.
"Fine," The younger stands, stretching briefly, turning away from his twin. "But we ain't doing cardio," He states, walking toward his suitcase. "I think I still got shin splints from last--"
A dense pressure crashes against his back, interuppting his sentence as his body involuntarily grunts in response. He stumbles forward, tripping over his suitcase and crashing against the wall until he loses balance entirely and topples over onto the floor.
He takes a moment to assess the situation from down on the carpet. His suitcase is tipped over, a couple articles of clothing are scattered nearby from his fall. His brother is kneeling on the ground several feet away, laughing hysterically. And in between them both is a pillow, the pillow. The one that knocked Jey out of sleep and now off his feet.
"I hate you," Jey growls.
"You had to see it comin', uce," Jimmy continues cackling, hand mindlessly rubbing away the pain in his stomach.
He doesn't have an excuse for himself, because he absolutely walked right into that, and it's his own fault too.
As twins, they tend to have a "make it even" mentality, both a good and bad thing. Like as kids, when they'd split a package of cookies, they'd make sure they each had the same amount. Or, as teenagers, when they'd share a car, they'd make sure they each paid the same amount for gas.
And now, as adults, they still hold themselves to it. If Jimmy pays for dinner one night, Jey picks up the check the next. Or, in this case, if Jey hits Jimmy too hard, Jimmy's getting him right back.
It's probably best he got the payback out of the way now, even if his hip will be sore for the rest for the day, because Jimmy will never forget to make it even. And he'd rather not get clocked with a pillow later at an inopportune time.
"I hate you," Jey says again, unable to come up with anything snappier. His eyes leave Jimmy, still babbling over the way Jey fell, to search the mess for some athletic attire.
He comes up with a pair of gym shorts and an old tee shirt from a fitness brand they represented a few years ago, biting back a wince as he stands to dress.
"I wish I had that on film," Jimmy says once he relaxes, sitting back on his heels.
"Shut up."
"You out here acting like you didn't do anything to deserve it," The older scoffs, reaching in his pocket for his phone, which buzzes wildly in his pocket. "You're just mad you ain't strong enough to knock me off my feet."
The dig makes Jey's features twist as he turns to Jimmy defensively. "I am strong enough to--"
"Hello?" Jimmy answers his phone, holding a dismissive finger up to Jey.
All he can do is mumble under his breath, turning away from his brother. He listens into the conversation, partially to direct the frustrated energy out of his mind, but more because he's just nosy.
The person on the other end is chatty. Their voice not loud enough to hear clearly, with Jey only picking up on the scratchy undertones of the receiver. He laces up his sneakers while Jimmy nods eagerly.
"Of course you can," Jimmy says, flashing a smile. "We're headin' down right now, we'll meet you there."
Jey's grabbing his phone when he feels Jimmy's eyes fall onto him. He immediately looks back, the smile gone from his brother's face, replaced with some sort of unsettled frown.
"Yeah," He trails off slightly. "I meant we as in Jey and I."
The person on the other end responds, with Jimmy shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"No, it's fine, he'll behave," Jimmy promises.
It's Jey's turn to frown now. "Who is it?" He whispers.
"I'll personally see to it, I swear," The taller twin takes slow steps as he attempts to convince the caller.
"Jimmy, who is it?" Jey stands, walking up to his brother and attempting to put his ear near the phone.
Jimmy shoves him away, picking up his pace in hopes to escape Jey long enough to finish the call. "No, he won't."
Jey's hot on his tail. "Tell me," He grabs a handful of Jimmy's shirt and yanks his twin closer, quickly greeted with a forearm to his face, keeping him at bay.
"I promise, Sami, you can work out with us."
"Sami?" Jey hisses, eyes igniting, swatting away Jimmy's arm.
Jimmy's not an idiot. He knows that tone. He knows those eyes. He knows exactly what's going to happen if he doesn't subdue Jey until he can end this call.
In just two seconds, he twists around his brother, using an arm against Jey's chest to pull him close, trapping him. With his free hand, he covers Jey's mouth, strong enough to where he can return the phone to his ear without Jey escaping.
"Okay, great! We'll see you down there!" Jimmy forces a cheerful tone, ignoring the caged animal currently thrashing in his arms.
He ends the call just as Jey bites his hand. "Ow, you motherfucker!"
"I ain't working out with Sami!"
"Yes, you are!" Jimmy wipes excess spit from his hand before checking the teeth marks. "You broke skin!"
"Good!" Jey exclaims, moving to brush past the older.
Jimmy snags his arm and pushes him against the wall, patience wearing thin. "I'm sick and fucking tired of this!"
He looks to his brother, warm brown eyes grown cold, muscles tense and twitching beneath his skin, lips curled into a snarl.
It almost makes Jey cower. Jimmy never looks at him like this. Even in the ring, when he plays his character, eyes clouded with anger, there's always some light behind his gaze. Like a closed window curtain poorly hiding the sun from streaming in the room. This is different. This is new. This is his last nerve. His wits end.
Jey doesn't fold, he won't let himself. He does what he always does when someone corners him; puts his wall up, locks his jaw, narrows his eyes. It normally works to diffuse the other person, but Jimmy doesn't ease up.
"You and Sami are insufferable! Nobody gives a fuck about how y'all feel toward each other! This is your job! Leave all that shit at the door!"
It's somewhat tough not to flinch when his normally relaxed other half is yelling six inches from his face. But he's mastered being defensive; hiding every emotion in a box, locking it, chaining it to an anchor, dropping it in the trenches of his mind to never be seen again. So he stands there, completely unphased, only blinking when a droplet of spit falls on his cheek.
"You're thirty-seven years old actin' like a damn child! I ain't babysittin' you no more! You gettin' paid to stay in shape so you're coming to the gym! You gettin' paid to do an interview, so you're doing it! You gettin' paid to be a professional, so fucking act like one!"
He tightens his grip like a vice on Jey's bicep, pulling him off the wall and toward the exit. A part of him wants to push his limits, find something to bitch about on the way out the door, really see if Jimmy's anger goes any further. But there's nothing that wouldn't be solved in a quick second.
Sure, he doesn't have the key to get back into his room, but Jimmy always carries his extra. And yeah, he doesn't have a hoodie, but Jimmy knows he runs hot when he's active.
So instead, he keeps sticks with his act, allowing himself to be led into the elevator, completely quiet and fortified. Jimmy's hand leaves him for the uncomfortable elevator ride down to the lobby, but returns just as the doors begin to open, somehow even tighter than before.
"I can't believe I have to parent my brother," Jimmy vents as he walks them toward the tiny hotel gym. "My twin brother. You're only nine minutes younger and you act like you're nine years younger!"
Jey's heard this spiel so many times in his life that he could probably recite it word for word with Jimmy. He thinks about doing it, just to piss him off a little more, but decides against it as they walk past the pool. At this point, Jimmy isn't above drowning him, and he's got to make it back to Miza somehow.
As they approach the door to the gym, Jey finds himself once again pressed against the wall. "Listen to me," Jimmy grits out. "You're going to workout with a damn smile, and if you ain't got nothing nice to say, don't fucking say it."
Jey doesn't respond, just staring back with bored eyes until Jimmy releases him. The warning was clear and precise, no room for error. Jey is going to workout, play nice, and bite his tongue.
But there's always a way to keep pushing buttons, and he knows Jimmy's buttons better than anyone else's. So he'll retaliate, his own type of warning back to his brother, by doing exactly what Jimmy told him to do.
The older leads, tapping his keycard and entering the gym first. Sami's already in there, doing some general stretches. "Hi, Sami!
The sudden change of tone is clashing, but not surprising. A mix of years of arguing and years of being constantly filmed has made the shift between emotions seamless for the twins. Sami probably isn't able to guess that he just tore into Jey for the last five minutes.
"Hey, Jimmy!" Sami chirps back.
Jey's plan is already in motion as he walks in right behind his brother with an exaggerated smile plastered on his face.
The two men look at him, with Jimmy already plotting his murder and Sami apprehensive. He doesn't pay any mind to them, his fake beam unwavering as he takes his usual spot standing beside his twin.
"Hey, Jey," Sami says slowly, unsure, clearly understanding something is up.
"Hey," Jey responds, poised and rehearsed.
Jimmy wants to say something, Jey can tell by the way his adam's apple bobs, but he bites it all back in hopes of salvaging the workout and their relationship with Sami.
"You think we should work arms?" Jimmy asks, thumb pressing down on his fingers, releasing small pops barely noticeable with the crappy disco playing over the speakers.
"That'd be smart," Sami agrees, mindlessly reaching to touch his tricep. "Been feeling a little weak picking people up."
It takes every cell in Jey's body to not respond to that, forcing the rude remarks down where his emotions hide as to not ruin his counterattack.
Instead, he stands unmoving, the smile on his face unchanging but understood as a mockery by the two other men.
"Why are you doing that?" Sami finally asks, irritation coating his words.
"I was told to workout with a smile," Jey states, vaguely robotic. "And to only speak when I have nice things to say," His eyes shift to Jimmy, smile widening slightly as he cocks his head. "So that's what I'm doing."
"Just get the fuck out," Jimmy points to the door.
On the surface, it seems like Jey won, got what he wanted, somehow pissed off his brother even more and took Sami as a casuality. But that's not how it'd really play out. To Jey, if he walks away, Jimmy and Sami win. They get to workout without Jey, avoid his retaliation, talk shit all they want while he isn't there to hear or defend himself.
So yeah, no, he's not leaving. In fact, he'll stay in this small, hot room until he dies if it means winning the battle.
"No," He shakes his head. "I was given specific instructions."
Judging by the look on Jimmy's face, he may die in this room a lot sooner than he thinks. But when his mind is made up, there's no changing it, so he walks over the dumbells and decides on two.
"Let's do arms!" He says with an excessive amount of joy, just a few notches short of jumping up and down singing sea shanties.
Sami and Jimmy exchange a look, probably questioning what dumbell weight would knock Jey out the fastest and for the longest, before grabbing their own set.
They ignore Jey for the majority of the workout, aside from a few minutes where they attempt to bait Jey out of his character by having Sami open himself up for criticism.
But he and his smile don't budge, and after forty-five of the most grueling minutes of his life, he walks out of the gym triumphant.
"The car is coming to get us for the interview in thirty," Jimmy says to Sami as the elevator opens.
"Got it," The redhead nods.
"You hear that too?" Jimmy turns to Jey, who's finally stopped smiling.
"Uh-huh," Jey hums, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ironically, his arms don't hurt nearly as bad as his face, which may be a useful hack for leg day, but right now, he just wants to massage the shit out of his jaw.
When the elevator doors open for the twin's floor, Jimmy is sure to give Sami a warm goodbye to cancel out Jey's cold shoulder, before nudging his brother toward their rooms.
"I see nothing I said earlier made a difference," Jimmy shakes his head. "You still acted like a child."
"I did exactly what you said to do."
"You--" The taller stops himself early, knowing arguing back won't get them anywhere. Instead, he sighs and runs his hand down his face. "I need to get away from you right now."
As much as he hates to admit it, Jimmy's a little bit more controlled than he is. The older knows when to refrain himself, wave the white flag temporarily until they're both in good spirits. Jey can't say the same for himself, willing to sit in the trenches forever and make a truce he knows he'll transgress.
So he'll try something new. Spare Jimmy the grey hairs and just shut the hell up for once in his life.
"Can you unlock my door first?" Jey looks briefly to his room, waiting until Jimmy's eyes meet his before adding the rest. "Please?"
It's one word, a word that he's been taught to always use since he was a little boy, a word that's synonymous with politeness and vulnerability, a word that somewhat loosens the current strain in their relationship.
Jimmy's shoulders relax slightly as he digs into his pocket for the key. "Yeah."
Jey stands awkwardly while Jimmy taps it, like a child coming out of being grounded and being returned to their freedoms. The lock blinks green, Jey's sign to push it open. "Thank you."
Jimmy offers a small, somewhat forced, smile in response before turning and walking to his own room.
The tension will surely remain between them for a little longer, but ultimately dissipate with time. One of the best parts about their relationship is the ability to eventually let things go, forgive, value each other more than the disagreement.
A quick time check alerts him that he only has twenty-five minutes to shower, dress, fix his hair, brush his teeth, and gather his items in time to make it into the lobby for pick-up. Yet, he still sinks onto his messy bed and pulls up his chats with Miza, who appears to have texted him sometime between his initial phone alarm at nine and his secondary Jimmy alarm at ten.
Miza: Good Morning!
Miza: It's honestly pretty lame how you fall asleep earlier than me and sleep later than me.
Miza: Like how is that fair?
Miza: That's a good hour of Jule time that I just don't get to have.
Miza: I'm going to go on strike and not talk to you for an hour of your day
It makes him smile, all the stress of the morning washing away. The dark clouds of the day ahead completely retreat.
Miza's unlike anyone he's ever met. The way he makes Jey forget about everything that's wrong, keeping him safe and happy for their time they're together. It's like the bubble he has with his brothers and Roman, just a different kind. A place where he's free to be himself, be vulnerable, be loved.
A place he wishes he could be in forever.
Notes:
As much as I love writing the Jule/Jey and Miza/Sami texting, I have to remember that there's actual stuff going on outside of that, haha!
Don't worry, there will be more idiots in love next chapter :)
Chapter 5: On Strike
Summary:
Jimmy grows suspicious of Jey's constant text notifications, becoming aware something is going on. Jey and Miza drift closer and chart new territory by vaguely discussing some personal details.
Notes:
This is a long one! 4,300+ words! Not as much texting again so I made sure to add some cuteness at the end!
The drama IS brewing, don't worry. You'll see it VERY soon ;)
Enjoy!! <3
Chapter Text
Jey will give it to Miza, he's definitely held his ground on the whole 'going on strike' thing.
So far, Jey's texted on three separate occasions over three hours; once from his hotel room after he walked in, once when they arrived on location for the interview, and once while they've been waiting for the car to pick them up.
At first, he was just generally replying to Miza's greetings and messages.
Jule: Good morning
Jule: It's totally fair, loser
Jule: It's not my fault you don't get enough sleep.
On location, he started getting suspicious that Miza was actually going through with the strike, so he mocked him.
Jule: Wow okay
Jule: You're actually doing the strike
Jule: LAME
After two hours of media, he sinks onto a bench outside, his carelessness beginning to fade as his messages with Miza are still one-sided. He buries his genuine concern deep in his playful banter so as not to come off as desperately clingy.
Jule: Miza
Jule: You bitch
Jule: The strike ended two hours ago
Jule: Are you just the Sexting Virginity Bandit?
Jule: Stealing virginities and moving to the next?
Jule: Well, jokes on you, I faked my orgasm.
Jey slides his phone into his pocket, somewhat hoping his last message baits Miza out of the strike. He's not particularly sure why Miza is still ignoring him, but he absolutely can't help but worry.
Maybe Miza is done with him now that they've been intimate, just using Jey as a test to see if he'd like it with a man. Though, that wouldn't explain Miza's lengthy proud speech and hour of astrogolical pillowtalk.
He shakes his head as if ridding himself of the worrying thoughts. It's stupid to be attached so soon. The rapid pace of their relationship has put him in such a flurry. One night, they're meeting. The next night, they're sexting. At this rate, they'll be moving in together by next week and married by next month.
Somehow, it's not a bad thing to him. He hasn't felt this way in years, the captivating weightlessness and warmth of fondness. It's only been two days, yet, he's settled in so nicely to it. Maybe that's why he's struggling with Miza's odd silence. Not particularly because of him, but because of the feelings he brings.
"Jey," Solo appears, startling Jey from his thoughts. He cracks a smile at it before continuing. "Come on, the car is here."
"Thanks," Jey says as stands from the bench, said more as an appreciation for Solo not questioning his jumpiness.
As they walk toward the group, where Sami climbs into the back of the van, the younger looks to him. "You guys have been good all day, don't ruin it now."
After the fiasco of the morning, Jey has attempted to better himself for the sake of Jimmy's blood pressure. He didn't say a single word about changing seats in the car earlier and even ignored Sami's shoe against his during the majority of the ride.
In the interview, he actively worked to fix his face and bite his tongue whenever Sami was speaking. And while it may have not been totally perfect--he does remember Jimmy discretely pinching his arm twice as a warning--it was a drastic improvement that clearly didn't go unnoticed.
"I won't," Jey promises. "Jimmy damn near took off my head this morning, I'm not riskin' it."
Solo chuckles, slowing down his pace as the approach the vehicle, a silent notation for Jey to walk ahead to climb in the back row first.
"You know," Jey whispers. "We are the same height if you ever wanted to sit back there."
Brown eyes narrow at Jey, a smirk resting on his lips. "I wouldn't mind..."
The twin lights up. "Really?"
"Only if you beat me in Rock, Paper, Scissors," Solo holds out his right fist flat on his left palm, waiting for Jey to replicate it.
Rock, Paper, Scissors is Jey's specialty. He beats Jimmy almost every single time. Solo knows this too. He's seen them settle numerous things with the game, seen Jey win things like the last slice of pizza or the window seat on the plane. So why Solo is placing a losing bet is beyond Jey, but it won't stop him from taking the opportunity presented.
They chant in unison, tapping their fists into their palms. "Rock, paper, scissor, shoot!"
Jey's hand doesn't leave the first shape, his usual choice of a rock. Normally, it's his lucky option, but his shoulders sink when he comprehends Solo's flat hand representing paper.
"What!?" Jey scoffs, watching Solo throw his head back in laughter. "Best two outta three!" He finds his way back into the original stance, waiting for Solo.
"That wasn't the deal," Solo shakes his head. "You lost."
Those two words don't connect in Jey's head for some reason. He doesn't lose this game. The last time he lost this game was probably three months ago against...Solo, actually... which causes him to frown as his hands fall to his sides.
"You're a cheater."
"And you're a sore loser," Solo points to the car. "Get in."
"I only lose this game against you," The older interrogates. "Why is that?"
Solo rolls his eyes. "Because you almost always play this game against Jimmy. And Jimmy almost always puts down scissors. So you almost always put down rock to beat him. So I almost always put down paper to beat you."
Jey has to think about that for a moment, and shit, yeah, he's right. Jimmy's tendency toward scissors mindlessly led Jey toward rock. He's never been good at playing the game, he's just been good at playing Jimmy. And clearly, Solo is good at playing them both.
"God damn it," Jey grumbles as he climbs into the car.
"Do my eyes deceive me or did you just lose a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors?" Roman asks from the front seat, craning his neck to look at Jey.
"Solo, I need you to help me next time I play it with him," Jimmy beams, looking between his little brothers.
"There's nothing to help," Solo shrugs, closing the door once he's situated. "You're both idiots."
Watching the twisted smile untangle off Jimmy's face almost makes the revelation of their stupidity worth it to Jey. But still, he lost his opportunity to sit with more leg room and less Sami, so he's not completely cheerful.
"What does he mean?" Jimmy turns to Jey, who shares the same expression.
Jey hates to explain it to Jimmy, partially because he could technically keep exploiting the habit of choice Jimmy has now that's he's conciously aware of it. But Solo would end up telling him anyways, and there's truthfully no fun in a rigged game.
The rest of the car erupts into laughter over the findings, contagious enough that even the twins can't help but join in, cracking jokes all the way back to the hotel and as they pile out of the van.
"You owe me so many beers now," Jimmy says, holding out his hand. "To make up for you cheating."
"No way," Jey grabs it briefly to stabilize himself as he squeezes out of the back row and onto the sidewalk. "It's your own damn fault you always picked scissors."
"You took advantage of that," Jimmy crosses his arms once Jey releases him. "Two cases of Coors, now."
"I didn't even realize I was," Jey defends. "You ain't getting even a can of Coors outta me."
"I don't think I believe you."
"If I was actually aware of it, I wouldn't lose to him every time," Jey nods to Solo, who walks beside Roman and Sami a few feet behind them. "And I wouldn't have been sittin' in the back row again."
Jimmy purses his lips for a second; thinking, debating, before ultimately shrugging in agreement. "Point taken."
As they walk into the hotel, offering a customary smile to the receptionist, their eyes--technically, their noses first--find a delivery man holding a pizza.
With the activity and stress of the day, they've completely neglected ingesting anything other than water. Now finished with their responsibilities, the scent of tangy sauce and fresh dough is like an alarm for their stomachs, a painful awakening of the hollow emptiness.
"I'd kill someone for that," Jimmy mumbles.
"God, me too," Jey deflates, tearing his eyes away from the man to look to his brother. "We ain't eaten all day."
"I'm starvin', uce," The older shakes his head. "You think the room service is any good?"
"They got room service?" Jey questions before wrinkling his nose. "Here?"
The hotel isn't particularly bad. Better than a Motel 8 or Holiday Inn, but it isn't the Four Seasons or even a Marriott, and Jey's not totally sold on the idea that he won't come down with a foodborne illness.
"Yeah! We've probably eaten worse. Remember those porkchops from Wisconsin last year?"
Ugh. Jey doesn't even want to think about those porkchops. They damn near took Jimmy and him off the face of the Earth, both huddled under their blankets with a trashcan by the bed, praying to anything for relief. He still blames their late night intoxication for that mistake, and he still owes Naomi big time for taking care of them.
Jey shudders. "I still get nauseous every time I see a porkchop."
"Me too, but aye," He taps Jey's shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips. "I looked at the menu last night and they got bacon cheese fries."
It's like those three words breathe hope into Jey. His eyes light up, his stomach roars to life, and his face splits with a grin. "Fuck it, I'm in."
"I've seen this expression before," Roman says, appearing beside them with Solo and Sami, eyebrow raised.
"Too many times," Solo adds, narrowed eyes. "Y'all are up to something."
"Never," Jimmy dismisses in a giggle, moving ahead tap the elevator button while everyone comes to a stop.
"I don't trust it," Sami jokes, gaining nods from Roman and Solo.
Jey's smile falters slightly, his body's habitual reaction to Sami. Something about him is just...off. A feeling that Jey can't put into words, a feeling so isolating, rooted, foreign. The kind of feeling that drives him to keep Sami at arms length.
The resentment doesn't fester long when he forces his eyes away from Sami and toward his twin, whose eyes glimmer as he rambles about the room service menu.
He pushes away his icy hatred to fully embrace the warm excitement oozing off of Jimmy, tuning back into whatever he's saying as the elevator opens.
"And they got ten different sauces for the wings!" He gushes, walking backward into the elevator to keep eye contact with the group. "You guys should join in!"
"Unfortunately I can't," Roman frowns. "Creative wants to talk with me in like fifteen minutes, something about my feud with Drew."
"Boring," Jimmy groans. "What about you guys?" His eyes find the two men leaning against the wall.
"We were actually going to try a place down the road around six," Solo nods to the redhead. "If you two don't wanna risk it on hotel chicken, you can come."
Sami smiles. "There's live music on Sunday's too. The reviews say the guy has a great voice."
Jey would say he's pretty proud of the way he swallows back the disgust begging to coat his features. Instead, taking a quick look to Jimmy, mentally begging him to meet his eyes. And he thankfully hears it, looking over, his face remaining even and level as they share the glance for no more than a second before Jimmy turns back to the duo.
"Honestly, it kinda sounds fun," He starts, offering a smile. "But the interviewers voice gave me a headache."
"She talked like a damn chipmunk," Jey adds, covering for Jimmy covering for him.
As the group laughs, he sneaks another peek at Jimmy, who already awaits his eyes, and he's reminded how insanely lucky he is to have a twin.
As a kid, he'd wish he wasn't a twin. That Jimmy was a year older, a grade above, a completely separate individual that Jey wasn't always compared to and confused with. He could never just be Jey. It was exhausting, and yeah, sometimes it still is.
The constant comparison and confusion never goes away, and it's always frustrating. Their normal sibling arguments are forever worsened by clashing similarities. It's a confusing and ever-changing relationship to navigate.
But all that doesn't matter as much anymore. He knows he wouldn't want to ever live his life without a twin. How could he? A twin relationship is a luxury many people never get to have, and a luxury he hopes to have in every lifetime.
He's gotten to grow up with a built in best friend, a half to a whole, connected to someone in a way nobody else can understand. Jimmy's always been there to talk to, to listen to, to hang with, to cry on, to train with.
He always has back up in arguments with others, a permanent alibi whenever he's in trouble, an easy excuse for when he needs to weasel out of something.
And regardless of what happens in the world; natural disasters, war tensions, corrupt politicians. Regardless of what happens to him; injuries, heartache, nightmares. Jimmy will always be there.
Unfortunately as a twin, he's never gotten to be alone, but thankfully, as a twin, he never has to be.
●●●
"I take it all back," Jey says through a mouthful of chicken, shaking his head gratefully. "This is amazing."
"Southern people know their chicken," Jimmy licks his fingers free of sauce.
After racing off the elevator and to Jimmy's room, they drooled over the menu for ten minutes and placed an order so large that the wait staff had to put it on two separate carts.
Cart one had their main course, chicken wings. Forty because they each wanted two different flavors and couldn't find a compromise. Cart two was their side dishes, a hearty mix of whatever else sounded good. Jey was partial to bacon cheese fries, while Jimmy demanded they try southern classics like green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, and cornbread while they're in Birmingham.
And sure, they probably would have saved way more money had they just gone out to a restaurant, but to Jey, eating soul food on the bed with his brother means more than extra cash in his pocket.
"You gon' be findin' crumbs all night," Jey scans the white sheets as snags a piece of cornbread.
"You ain't helping," Jimmy frowns at the mess.
"Never said I was," The younger grins before taking a bite, dusting the small sauce and grease stains with cornmeal.
"You know," Jimmy says, reaching to fill his plate with more wings, particularly Jey's lemon pepper. "I should've listened to you on this flavor."
Jey perks up, elated to hear his brother admit he was right. As he's about to speak, his phone buzzes with a notification, drawing their attention temporarily. His heart rate picks up as his mind goes to Miza. He doesn't lift his phone to look, knowing Jimmy would become nosy if he were to jump at the notification that quick.
If it is Miza, and god he hopes it is, their conversations wouldn't be anything Jimmy ever needs to see anyway. He instead bites back the hope swelling in his chest and diverts attention away from his phone, which buzzes once more.
"I told you, uce!" He nods to the wings.
Buzz.
He speaks louder, with more excitement, anything to keep Jimmy's attention. "Lemon pepper is the most underrated flavor!"
Buzz.
"Clearly I've been missin' out," Jimmy laughs. "You know, Naomi always--"
Buzz. Buzz.
The noise is distracting, interuppting his sentence and train of thought. Jimmy just tries to keep going, knowing whatever Jey's got going on is none of his business.
"She always--"
Buzz.
"When we go out she--"
Buzz.
"--orders this flavor all--"
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
"Damn, man!" Jimmy frowns, unable to continue. "Who the hell is texting you?"
It's definitely Miza, no doubt about it, probably checking his phone and falling into the trap Jey set an hour ago. He desperately wants to check it, his body and mind having grown to yearn for Miza.
His fingers twitch against his plate and thigh, the question hanging in the silent air for a few seconds, the rapid buzzing seeming to never stop, before Jey forces himself flip the switch on his phone to silence it.
"I think I got added to a group chat or somethin'," Jey dismisses. "Someone's birthday, probably."
Jimmy doesn't believe him, eyebrows furrowed over squinted eyes. He stares at Jey like for a couple seconds, hoping the awkward silence will draw more incriminating excuses, but ultimately backs down when Jey doesn't budge.
He won't push it. Not yet. Not today. Not now. He doesn't want to ruin this moment, the beauty of no responsibilities, no stress, no tension.
"We can split a gift then," Jimmy changes the subject, pretending not to notice Jey's muscles loosening under his skin, shoulders sinking as he releases the breath he was holding. "Just let me know what I owe."
He can see the relief on Jey's features as he agrees quickly and diverts attention back to the wings. And he acts like he cares, mind still preoccupied on the secrecy of the notifications.
As much as he wants to know now, he'll remain respectful and patient. Jey will tell him eventually, he always does. There isn't one thing they hide from each other forever, in part due to their persistent proximity. He just hopes Jey's okay, that whatever he's hiding isn't hurting him, haunting him, hating him.
But for now, he'll push it aside, making sure to end the day with Jey better than it started.
●●●
Miza: JULE
Miza: JULE STOP
Miza: YOU MOTHERFUCKER
Miza: I'M NOT THE VIRGINITY BANDIT
Miza: Wait
Miza: Wait
Miza: Jule wait
Miza: You didn't actually fake it right?
Miza: Right?
Miza: Right?
Miza: RIGHT?
Miza: Well, you can fake them all you want now
Miza: But you won't be able to when we listen to the playlist I made and fuck on the beaches of Polynesia
Miza: For real though, I wasn't actually on strike
Miza: I promise
Miza: I was working all day, I barely had a second to even check the time
Miza: Forgive me, baby
Jey mindlessly nibbles his bottom lip, beaming as heat radiates from his cheeks and pools in his pants.
Miza's messages are the perfect mix of humor, horny, and heart, leaving him a lovesick mess on the edge of his bed.
The moment he left Jimmy's room, the door barely clicking shut behind him, he tore into his phone and to Miza's messages. They didn't disappoint, they never do.
Jule: That sounds like exactly something the Virginity Bandit would say
Jule: But I guess I'll forgive you this time
Jule: Only because you asked so nice
Jey flops back against the mattress, phone discarded beside him, smiling like a complete idiot. Miza may be the best thing that's ever happened to him. At least at this point in his life.
He barely remembers the pool of depression he was drowning in two nights ago, because Miza drained it so fast. Since then, he's breathed life into Jey, changed his perspective, and given him something bright to wake up to and warm to sleep to.
It's still ridiculous to him that he's so enamored with a person--a guy--he's never seen or met, but he feels so connected to him regardless.
He's hardly has time to get lost in the thoughts, as the shifting change in brightness in his phone grabs his attention. His hands find his phone fast, thumb changing the silencer off as his eyes read the messages Miza currently sends.
Miza: I'll always ask nice for you
Miza: You just need to trust that I'm not the Virginity Bandit
Miza: Just like how I'm trusting to believe you didn't actually fake your orgasm
Miza: Which you didn't, right?
Jule: What a gentleman
Jule: Relax, Miza
Jule: I didn't fake it
Miza: Thank god
Miza: I'd feel like a real schmuck if I was jerking off while you ate popcorn and pretended
Jule: Chips actually. Voodoo flavor.
Miza: JULE
Jule: KIDDING
Miza: You give me a headache
Miza: I should've actually gone on strike
Jule: I don't think you could actually do it
Jule: You'd miss me
Miza's texting bubbles disappear quicker than Jey would like, and he realizes his playful dare has become a genuine challenge.
Jey knows he could wait it out longer than Miza. He's held month long grudges for less. But he just got Miza's attention after several hours, and he's too greedy to care how desperate he looks begging for it back.
Jule: That wasn't a dare
Jule: Bitch
Jule: Get back here
When the text bubbles don't appear, he knows can't just grovel until Miza comes back to him. It won't work. He needs another tactic, something Miza can't ignore.
Jule: So you're just going to ignore me all day and then do it again?
Jule: That's fine
Jule: I'll just go chat with someone else
Jule: His name is Steven
Jule: Steven won't ignore me
Jule: Steven can actually get me off
Miza: YOU'RE NOT FUNNY
Jule: Welcome back!
Miza: Jule, I'm gonna kill you
Jule: At least wait until after our Polynesia trip
Miza: It's canceled
Miza: I'm trading in my ticket to fly to wherever the hell Steven is so I can kill him first
Jule: Waste of time, he doesn't exist
Jule: Jealous, aren't we?
Miza: We went over this last night, idiot
Miza: I'm a Cancer
Miza: Obviously
Miza: Pay attention. The quiz is tomorrow.
Jule: You can't just throw a quiz on me last second
Jule: I have no time to study, I have work
Miza: Oh, cry me a river, so do I
Jule: What do you do for work anyways?
Jule: Something important enough to ignore me for, I hope?
Miza: You do not get to question my jealousy when you're a stage five clinger
Jule: I'm not clingy wtf
Miza: If I can remember the infamous quote from our first conversation ever
Miza: "Are you there?"
Jule: You'll never let that go, will you?
Miza: Nope
Miza: And I travel for work
Jule: I do too, we already established that
Jule: Pay attention
Jule: Real answers, Miza
Miza: You're such a little bitch omg
Miza: I'm like a circus monkey
Miza: I do tricks on demand for a bunch of people
Jey can't help but cock his head, a puzzled expression replacing his usual blissful smile. That somehow leaves him with more questions than before.
Sure, it's not a total riddle. He's clearly some sort of performer. Jey could technically classify himself as the same thing as a wrestler. But there's so many performance based occupations that it'd be impossible to narrow Miza's down.
He'd love to ask more questions, dig deeper, solve the mystery, but Miza doesn't seem completely comfortable sharing it yet. And whether it's embarrassment or uneasiness about his profession, he doesn't want Miza to feel that at all.
Jule: That sounds like fun
Jule: Do you get to keep the little cymbals?
Miza: They're rentals :(
Miza: My turn now
Miza: What do you do for work?
Jule: Travel
Miza: If I didn't have to leave soon, I'd ignore you again
Miza: Real answer, go
Jule: You bastard
Jule: You're leaving me again?
Miza: Aw, I'll miss you too, my little clinger
Jey buries his face in the sheets as if hiding his blushing cheeks from the world, a mix of frustration and fondness. Why Miza has to leave again is beyond him. It's just around six, the work day should be over, and he should get all of Miza's attention for the rest of the night.
Jule: I promise you I will actually find a Steven if you keep calling me that
Miza: I'm going to choose to ignore that text to keep my peace
Miza: Leave me with a new fact to think about, what does Jule do for work?
To think about. It sends a wave of relief washing over him. He's not the only one swimming in thoughts and daydreams. Miza thinks about him too, probably between tightrope walking and hoop jumping if he has to guess. He can't help but feel his stomach doing backflips at the thought of Miza liking him in the same way.
Though, he's got to push that excitment aside and respond quickly. Get the most out of his dwindling Miza time. It's diffcult to think of a way to put professional wrestling. It's so blunt and too specific, and he doesn't want Miza figuring him out first. How can he be vague?
Jule: I'm an actor of sorts
That's... honestly pretty good. He follows a script, he performs for a crowd, he plays a character, and he pretends to hate his friends and family all the time. Yeah, he's somewhat of an actor.
Miza: Holy shit I'm with a celebrity
Miza: I'll be the best trophy husband
Miza: Have I seen you in movies? TV shows? The lead in those hemorrhoid commercials?
Jule: With me?
Jule: After calling me the face of hemorrhoid creams, I'm not with you anymore
Miza: You still haven't denied it technically
Miza: But I'll take it back
Miza: I unfortunately have to go :(
Miza: I'll be back in like two hours though
Jey deflates. He desperately doesn't want Miza to go. The world feels so warm and bright when Miza's talking with him. The moment they stop, Jey's given a crude reminder of reality. That their conversations are just words on a phone, that he's alone in his room, cold in his isolation. He refrains from clinging, not giving Miza the chance to clock him again.
Jule: Bye, Steven
Jule: **Miza
Jule: Sorry autocorrect
Miza: Haha you're so funny Jule wow omg
Miza: Bye, baby
Miza: Talk soon
Chapter 6: Texas
Summary:
After the Monday Night Raw taping, Jey returns to his hotel room in preparation for traveling to Houston, Texas for Smackdown the next day. Talking with Miza, he learns Miza's already in Texas for work, and together they grow eager and excited over the idea they'll be in the same state.
Notes:
I received so much love on the big chapter last week, that I let myself go wild again. 5000+ words this time around!
Thanks for much for your support, guys! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Jey!" Jimmy yells for him, straining over the ropes, hand flapping hopelessly.
Jey groans as he crawls over from the middle of the ring, painfully slow, playing up his exhaustion like he's a second away from collapsing. It gives his opponent, Ivar, enough time to sell and recover from the clothesline and snag Jey's ankle, dragging him away mere seconds before he make the tag.
"No!" Jimmy cries, throwing his hands up to his head, running them back through his hair as he paces along the apron.
In the Viking Raiders corner, Jey is beaten, ribs repeatedly stomped on before the Ivar drops to a knee and starts punching at Jey's head. He puts his hands up weakly, wincing from the few connections Ivar genuinely makes. As the onslaught continues, he pretends he's being rendered unconscious.
"Ref!" His twin scoffs, moving from his position to gather the attention of the official. "Ref do somethin'!"
The referee turns his back to the match, arguing with Jimmy about the match rules and his behavior. It gives Erik a free opportunity to grab Jey's right arm and stretch it out around the ring post, opening his bicep up for Ivar to abuse. Jey wails, selling the pain to the best of his ability.
He can hear Jimmy lose it, releasing a primal scream as he jumps off the apron and sprints around to Erik, gripping two fistfuls of his gear and tearing him away from Jey. Erik stumbles off the apron and onto the ground, where Jimmy pounces onto him, aggressive words and vengeful punches flying.
The referee scolds them for a while but ultimately returns his attention back to the two legal men. During the distraction, Jey was able to turn the tides, stand, and grab Ivar's beard, dragging him to the center of the ring.
He takes a few shots at Ivar's head, the taller man wavering in place, stunned long enough for Jey to run the ropes and hit him with a devastating spear.
The crowd roars, a mix of cheers and boos, a regular scenario for their current role as beloved heels. He pants, ignoring the pain and fatigue, falling against the ropes temporarily to sell--more of an excuse to give himself a couple extra seconds of rest.
Down on the ground, Jimmy and Erik lay motionless, successful in taking each other out but failures in helping their team. Jey's eyes linger a little longer, scanning his brother for visible injury before turning his attention back to the match.
He pulls himself up the ropes until he's crouching on the top, eyes narrowed at his opponent below him. Ivar's already found his way into position, body tensed slightly to brace for Jey's weight to come crashing down.
The audience grows louder, the lights grow brighter, his heartbeat grows faster. The world seems to slow down when he launches himself off the ropes, stretching his arms and legs back temporarily, the stagnant air loosening as he sails through it, granting him temporarily relief from the heat before he lands on Ivar.
The older man groans out, body curling up in response, arms instinctively moving to sell the hit to his torso.
"You 'ight?" Jey whispers between breaths, readjusting before he makes the pin.
"Yep," Ivar grunts.
He hooks his arms around the viking's leg, leaning himself back and squeezing his eyes shut, draping over Ivar as the referee slides into place. The crowd chants after each hit of his hand to the mat.
Thud!
"One!"
Thud!
"Two!"
Thud!
"Three!"
It's their theme song that cuts through the sound of blood pumping in his ears. He rolls off Ivar after giving him a subtle pat on the shoulder, eyes scanning ringside for Jimmy.
His brother is peeling himself off the ground, tired eyes meeting Jey's as he limps toward the ring.
"Here are your winners," The announcer begins. "The team of Jimmy and Jey, The Usos!"
Jimmy grabs him as he hops off the apron, arms locking tight around his waist as they embrace.
"I'm so tired," Jey sighs, laying his cheek against Jimmy's shoulder.
"Me too," Jimmy mutters, gulping in air as he loosens up. "Put the ones up and let's roll."
They separate, raising their ones in the air slow and meticulous, nodding their heads arrogantly. As they walk up the ramp, they flash a couple of dirty looks toward the Viking Raiders and select audience members for good measure.
"He alright?" His brother drops his character once their out of sight, referencing Ivar, who's still selling in the ring.
"Yeah," Jey nods, squeezing past the crew in gorilla. "At least he told me he was."
Backstage, a few superstars who walk by offer kind words and half hugs after their match. And though the twins are insistent on getting back to the Bloodline locker room, they linger in a confluence of hallways waiting for Megan and the camera crew to collect their interview.
They try to catch their breath in the time it takes for her to fix a couple of messy strands of blonde hair, the crew beginning to count down the seconds until rolling.
"I'm here with the Usos after their massive win over the Viking Raiders," She looks between them as she continues. "People speculated that you two would lose against the--"
"Man, who's people?" Jimmy spits, stepping closer to her, eyeing the microphone in her hands.
He grabs it from her, causing her to throw up her hands up and shrug, stepping back to allow Jimmy to move front and center in frame.
"Whoever y'all are... Whoever thought we was gon' lose... I hope you find us so we can whoop yo' asses too!"
He pauses only to reach behind him for Jey, tugging him up in frame. Jey stares at the camera with murder in his eyes, lip snarled up in anger.
"Jey and I are the Undisputed Tag Team Champions and nobody gon' take that away from us!"
"Nobody," Jey parrots, low and gravelly, punctuating it by completely walking off, Jimmy in tow after tossing the microphone back to Megan.
He can hear her sending off back to the announcers, waiting until the camera lights turn off before breaking character.
"Thanks for covering that," Jey turns to Jimmy, who's offering an apology to Megan for his faux aggression. "I'm too tired to think of somethin' good to say."
"You can't think of anythin' even when you're not," He cracks a playful grin.
"Asshole," Jey grumbles, rolling out his shoulders as the adrenaline wears off and the pain sets in. "I need some Icy Hot."
"Your arm hurt?" Jimmy tugs him closer in stride to get a better view of the arm the vikings stretched and beat.
"My everything hurts," Jey quips, allowing Jimmy to poke and press at his bicep, wincing slightly when he touches a few tender spots, before ultimately pulling his arm away. "Quit it."
"Roman's got some, I think," The older nods to the double doors a few feet away, a printed sheet of paper taped to the wood. The Bloodline.
At first, when they started receiving their own room, he felt a little pompous for having it. Sometimes, he still does.
It began as a place for them to do their backstage promos with minimal interference for maximum output. It's easier to stay in character and be emotional when it's just them in a quiet room.
Now that it's just become the staple, he's definitely settled into it. A part of him can't even imagine having to return back to the mess of the standard men's locker room. Having to yell over everyone. Losing track of his things. Sitting on the floor because everyone's taking up the benches.
"Good match, guys!" Roman bounces to his feet when the twins walk in.
The room is free of cameras now, all their promotions finished, so Roman can greet them the way he always wants to, with a big smile and piles of love.
"You were a spider monkey!" Roman pulls Jimmy close, a hand cradling his head. "You pounced on Erik!"
"He was cheatin'!" Jimmy defends through a giggle, patting Roman's shoulder as he pulls away and directs his attention to Jey.
"And you," Roman locks eyes with Jey. "Look exhausted."
"Man," Jey rolls his eyes, waving Roman off as he laughs along with Jimmy.
He moves his gaze toward Roman's bags in the corner of the room, figuring out which one would house the Icy Hot on the way over, before squatting down and rifling through it as if it were his own.
Roman never minds. His bags are Jey's as much as Jey's are his. Solo and Jimmy, too. They've got nothing to hide from each other, nothing they wouldn't share, nothing they don't need to see, so Jey's never had to worry about tearing into Roman's shit for whatever he needs that given moment.
Though, Roman's bags are more meticulously organized than his own. A place for everything and everything in its place. He tries to keep it that way when he's looking, or at the very least, return everything to where it goes at the end. But it's hard to find what he needs when it's all too well organized between five pouches, four pockets, three containers, and two compartments. All in one huge bag atop his suitcases.
He grumbles a swear as he sifts through a pouch of bandaids and medical tape, returning it to the bag when it's fruitless.
A hand falls onto his shoulder, capturing his attention. Roman's sinking down beside him, eyes locked onto a small zipper built into the bag. He unzips it and retrieves a tube of Icy Hot, leaving Jey to stare at the spot in the bag, as if burning it in his brain so he'll never forget.
"Exhausted isn't a bad thing," He extends the tube to Jey, who grabs it with quiet thanks. "It means you worked your ass off to put on a good show."
"I know you didn't mean no harm by it," Jey tips off the balls of his feet and onto his ass, immediately popping open the Icy Hot and squeezing some into his hand.
"I'm proud of you too," Roman pulls Jey's back to his chest, offering the same love he gave Jimmy.
"I know," Jey smiles, eyeing the cream in his hand nervously. "I'd hug you back, but I'd get Icy Hot everywhere."
"We'll take a raincheck," Roman says, leaning back, watching Jey massage the medicine into his skin. "Did he get you too hard?"
"Not intentionally," He hums.
"Give me some," Jimmy plops beside them, grabbing the tube from Jey's lap. "I tweaked my shoulder."
"Didn't you two just buy yourselves Icy Hot?" Roman questions at the duo rubbing the cream into sore muscles. "We all bought a tube back in Raleigh, right?"
It almost makes Roman laugh the way the twins' heads pop up in unison, wide eyes somewhat glazed over as they try to recall where their tubes disappeared.
Jey's answer comes first. "Oh, I let Solo borrow it."
Jimmy's right behind him, a similar story. "Sami needed mine after cardio."
Then their eyebrows furrow, finally taking note of the silence of the room, before their heads twist around and eyes scan the emptiness.
Roman actually laughs when they return their eyes to him, Jey first and then Jimmy, a second delay between them as their minds catch up.
"Where's Solo?"
"Where's Sami?"
They wait impatiently for him to stop laughing, looking at each other confused, erring on the side of irritated.
After thirty-seven years of being twins, the novelty of doing the same things at the same time has long worn off. But that's only to them. Everyone else adores when they echo each other mindlessly, fawning over their bond and similarities.
They've grown used to the copying and the cooing, even though they hate it, because realistically, they'll never be able to stop doing it. And even though Roman's watched them do it daily since childhood, he still gets a kick out of it every time.
"Solo and Sami went to do press," He informs.
"Here? This late?" Jimmy cocks his head.
"No," The oldest shakes his head. "They went to the next city. Build up the tension there all week for Smackdown on Friday."
"If I had Sami on my TV hyping me up for Smackdown, I'd sell my damn tickets," Jey grumbles.
"Stop," Roman warns, standing up from the floor before nodding to their bags. "Grab your shit and change so we can go."
"Why should I stop? He ain't even here," Jey winces as he stands.
"Because we don't want to hear about how much you hate him again," Jimmy answers for Roman, joints popping as he rises, moving toward his bags.
"Exactly," Roman agrees, offering a bright smile to counteract Jey's gloomy frown before nudging the shorter toward his things with an apologetic tap tap tap on the shoulder. "Bags."
To Jey, Sami not being here is free reign for him to speak as much shit as he'd like. It's become somewhat of a rarity now, seeing that Sami's existence haunts him like a ghost. He'd love to sit down and just vent for the entire week about how much he despises Sami with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, but unfortunately, his brothers can't find the fun in that.
"I listen to you guys talk about people all the time," Jey grumbles, sorting through his things for his sweats. "How come I can't talk 'bout Sami?"
"We've already heard about how much you hate him already," Jimmy kicks off his gear. "If you can tell me one thing I ain't heard yet, I'll listen."
"Don't get him started," Roman groans, pulling on a hoodie.
"He won't be able to do it," Jimmy promises.
The challenge is an easy one. Jey could write a nine thousand page novel about what he hates about Sami, with sources cited, in MLA format. And he hates everything about Sami, so he could sit here for hours listing them off.
"His hair," Jey starts as he begins changing clothes.
"Heard it."
"His voice."
"Heard it."
Roman's in hell for the next five minutes, listening to the twins play vocal tennis, bouncing the same couple of words back and forth. He tries to distract himself by helping them pack; picking up their gear, folding it up, setting it in their bags. A few times, he looks between his bags and the door, pondering the thought of just waiting for them in the car.
"His clothes."
"Heard it."
"No, you haven't!" Jey points to him, accusatory, catching him in the lie. "I've never said I hated his clothes."
"Wonderful, you win!" Roman interuppts, forced smile unable to hide the agony in his eyes. "Let's go!"
Jimmy doesn't back down so quick, narrowing his eyes at Jey as he ceases his packing. "Yes, you have. Two months ago in Sioux Falls, you made a comment 'bout his shoes. You said they looked cheap and dirty."
Roman runs his hand down his face, whispering a plead to god, begging him to shut the Usos up for five minutes, just enough to get them into the car and on the way back to the hotel.
"I never said that!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Ye--"
"Shut up!"
The brothers instinctively tense up, turning to the oldest who awaits their eyes expectantly.
"God damn," Roman sighs. "Y'all made me use my Tribal Chief voice."
There's a crack in the tension, a glimmer of promise that Roman's not genuinely mad. Though, it's abundantly clear he's wildly frustrated.
"Stop arguing, please," He begs. "I've been up since six this morning, I'm tired as hell, and all this noise is turning my brain into soup."
While neither of them are up for abandoning the argument, both feeling like they could go for another two hours and still come out victorious, they make the silent oath to shelf it for the sake of Roman's sanity.
And he's beyond grateful for it, thanking them as they roll their bags out and turn off the lights, offering up snacks he has in his bag on the way to the car, like an owner giving his dogs a treat for behaving.
While the packet of cookies may not be enough to completely feed the hollow abyss his stomach has become, Jey still accepts them, mindlessly crunching during the car ride, often eyeing his brother's fruit snacks.
"I'll trade you," Jimmy notices, digging into his package for two strawberry ones, Jey's favorite, holding them out in his palm.
"Deal," Jey nods, grabbing the fruit snacks and replacing them with two cookies to make it even.
"We can order something when we get to the hotel if you want," Roman says from the passengers seat, turning slightly to look between them. "I heard Domino's delivers until midnight."
"I'll be okay," Jimmy shakes his head. "Naomi's gonna pick somethin' up for us on her way back."
"I ain't that hungry, honestly," Jey lies. "Had too much of that chicken in catering."
In reality, he's starving, famished, ravenous, and could probably take down fifteen large pizzas by himself. But he doesn't want to spend another second of his spare time not texting Miza, who's probably waiting for him to respond, finish the scene he told him he was filming.
He felt terrible leaving Miza, attempting to text him every break he had, apologizing when he had to leave again. Miza understood, telling Jey he'd be right there when he returned, which only made Jey feel more like shit.
Miza was traveling for work today, meaning their luck of sharing travel days has run out. It made Jey worry internally if it would mean they'd be thrown off forever, with them each traveling bored and now lonely.
He didn't share his worries with Miza, instead making some sort of joke about practicing the trampoline routine for the circus in his absence. And Miza bit back about Jey working toward becoming the poster boy for Preparation H instead of talking to his "beloved"--quoted directly from Miza.
So yeah, he'll pretend he's not wasting away for now. Get to his room and finish off whatever bag of chips he didn't eat at the airport on Saturday, maybe scope out a vending machine for a candy bar. Lay on his bed texting Miza until he's warm and fuzzy. Have the best night of sleep in his life knowing Miza's going to wake him up with like a Sour Patch Kid, a sweet good morning message with a sour twist of teasing.
"You sure?" Roman questions, face twisted in uncertainty. "I really don't mind."
He worries, of course, prying into them slightly to crack the potiental layer of dishonesty.
And of course he was going to pay for it, reject the money the twins would've offered out, dismiss them by saying they can get him back next time when they know he'll never actually let them.
"I promise," Jey gives an assuring smile, warm enough to melt the worry on his cousin's face.
"Okay," He nods, replicating Jey's expression. "Let me know if anything changes. You too, Jimmy."
"We will," Jimmy answers for them both, balling up his empty pouch of fruit snacks. "Thanks for these."
"Yeah," Jey looks down at the foil he's been mindlessly folding and unfolding in his hands. "Thank you."
"Not a problem. Y'all are more than welcome to them whenever. I can never eat them all myself."
Roman's too good for them, too thoughtful, too oblivious to realize they know he's lying to them. They know he intentionally doesn't eat all the snacks, stopping himself a few packets short and letting them sit in his bag until the moment someone needs a quick bite.
Because to Roman, the food doesn't satiate him as much as helping does. That the guilt of not having something for someone will consume him more than the hunger ever could. That nothing will taste as good as the way being of service feels.
Jey's never completely had that exact mindset. Like, sure, he'd give his stuff away if someone needed it more, but he's always felt the need to finish his food immediately. Maybe it's just the fact he's a twin, always having to share, two birds fighting for one worm while everyone else gets their own.
He always makes a mental note to adopt Roman's mentalities, admiring them more than his own. But he can never fully adhere to them in the end, his own nature shredding the notes to pieces.
It's probably for the best, though. People don't want an imposter, copy-cat Roman, they want Jey. They want his humor, his attitude, and his personality just the way it is.
This train of thought ultimately stops at his new favorite station: Miza. How if he wasn't the way he is, maybe Miza wouldn't like him; he'd stop texting after a couple messages, move onto another chat to be charmed by another man, create a sex playlist for him instead.
The mere idea brings an unfamiliar sense of jealousy spreading across his chest, something he hasn't felt in years. He can't linger on it too long, his stomach twisting and lungs clenching at the notion of Miza with another man.
"You guys have a good night," The driver's voice cuts into his cloud of possessiveness.
A part of him panics when he snaps out of it, worried he'll have a rerun of Saturday, everyone staring at him intently to leave the vehicle. But thankfully, that's not the case, the car only just slowing to a stop when he gathers his bearings.
"Thanks, man," Jimmy chirps as he hops out of the car.
"Thank you," Jey parrots, joining his brothers at the trunk of the car to retrieve his bags.
In some sort of post-thought clarity, he can't help but feel weirded out by his own mind. How quick it just understood and readily accepted that Miza is a man--a man that he's possessive of--when he's never even looked at a man like that. It's foreign, the seas of uncertainty in uncharted water becoming turbulent.
In fact, he ruminates over it the entirety to his room, throwing some cheap lie out when Roman and Jimmy ask what's bothering him. He walls it off long enough to say the standard goodnight, I love you, see you in the morning, before the wall snaps and his discomfort soars.
Yet, even through the voice in his head, he still finds himself dropping his shit by the bed and immediately opening his phone like an addict getting his next fix.
Miza: Dear Diary, it's been thirty minutes since Jule last spoke. I just hope he's going to get the Prep H commercial he's always aspired for. I hope it's worth him texting me very little today.
Miza: Dear Diary, it's been an hour since Jule left me. The day has become dimmer now, the sun leaving the sky and my sun leaving the chat. I hope this treacherous winter ends soon.
Miza: Dear Diary, it's been two hours since Jule abandoned me here. I'm running out of provisions. I don't think I'll make it to tomorrow. The world is slipping into darkness, as I descent into madness. If anyone finds this diary, tell Jule that he's super super lame and doesn't deserve that Prep H commercial, I lied.
The last text was sent just about twenty minutes ago, actually, fifteen, but Jey spends five minutes swooning over the messages. His heart twirls, his world saturates, his muscles relax, his lips curl into a smile.
There's still the nagging voice in his head, droning on about feeling this way over a man, but it's quiet, attempting to yell at him from the nosebleeds while Miza talks from front row.
He's never been able to shut that voice up on his own, grown accustomed to its many twisted tones, locked and chained to it while it degrades him daily. But it's clear Miza's the key, unlocking him from it and keeping him safe, at least for a couple hours.
Jey's not sure he'll ever get over Miza's poetic woes. The allusion to Jey being his summer and the statement of Jey being his sun. He sinks down on the bed and finally responds, freeing Miza from the winter the way Miza frees him from himself.
Jule: You're so dramatic wow
Jule: I thought I was the actor
Jule: You just won the Oscar for Best Simp in a MeetMe Chatroom
Jule: Congratulations!
Jey doesn't even have the time to kick off both his sneakers before Miza's typing back. It makes him feel a little guilty again, seeing how bored Miza was without him. Though, Miza did do this to him yesterday because of work, so it's payback, or realistically, just bound to happen as they continue talking.
Miza: Dear Diary, the world is bright again! The flowers are blooming and the birds are chirping and Jule is an asshole and everything is back to normal!
Miza: Jule, do you really want me to make another speech?
Miza: I can go for an hour
Jule: Isn't the limit 45 seconds now?
Miza: I don't fucking know I don't watch the Oscars
Miza: I'm not even American
Miza: How was acting today? Did you have to act like a nice person? Was that hard?
Jule: Fuck you, I'm always nice
Jule: Wait hold up
Jule: You're not American?
Miza: I beg to differ
Miza: You can't start a sentence with aggression and end it by saying you're nice. Literally contradicted yourself.
Jule: Miza answer
Jule: Where are you from?
Miza: My dad's balls
Jule: MIZA
Jule: EW
Miza: I'm not wrong
Miza: Where are you from?
Jule: I asked first
Miza: And I told you
Miza: Your turn
Jule: Guess
Miza: Heaven?
"Oh my god," Jey mutters to himself, covering his face with his hand, the judgment of the cheesy text balanced out by the rosy blush spreading across his cheeks.
Jule: You're so corny oh my fucking god
Miza: I had to, I'm sorry
Miza: Well you're obviously from America based on how you responded when I said I wasn't.
Jule: You still haven't told me where you're actually from
Miza: I'm getting there, shit
Miza: You feel warm to me. Like you're from a southern state or a warm state.
Miza: You're an icy bitch sometimes but that's aside the point.
Jule: Interesting
Jule: I'll take that as a compliment and ignore the last message.
Jule: I'm technically from the West Coast
Miza: So I was half right
Miza: With the warm thing
Miza: Aside from the northwest states, it's pretty warm in the west. Arizona nearly melted me last summer.
Jule: You seem pretty knowledgeable on America for not being American
Jule: Does your circus come through America often?
Miza: It's almost exclusively in America actually
Miza: I wasn't born here but I work here
Miza: I'm in America right now
Jule: Wait really?
Miza: Yeah
Miza: Can I ask which state you're in?
Jule: Stalker
Miza: Oh shut up
Miza: I'll tell you first
Jule: How do you know I'm not a stalker?
Miza: Please be one. Come find me.
Miza: We'll put my playlist to use and then you can kill me or whatever.
Jey can't help but attach his teeth to his bottom lip, biting down slightly to keep himself from ascending. He loves when Miza's crazy about him in the same way he is about Miza. It soothes the worry in his brain that he's crazy and clingy, or that he's giving too much of himself into this. Because Miza's just as desperate and hungry as him.
Jule: I'll do all that but the killing
Jule: The CEO of Prep H wouldn't want to hire a killer
Miza: Good answer
Miza: I'm in Texas right now
Jey freezes fast, every muscle tensing, jaw dropping as his fingers fumble out a reply.
Jule: Are you fr?
Miza: Yeah
Miza: Are you in Texas too?
Miza: BITCH ARE YOU IN TEXAS?
Miza's overzealous, partially incorrect but not for long. While he's still in Birmingham, Alabama for Raw, Smackdown's in Houston, Texas, and he's traveling there tomorrow for it. And while he's not completely sure where Miza is in Texas, a state that covers over 250,000 miles, a part of him can't help but feel giddy over the idea that he's going to be in the same state as Miza.
Jule: I'm going there tomorrow
Jule: Miza we're going to be in the same state at the same time
Miza: JULE OH MY GOD
Miza: We need to sext again tomorrow night and I'll see if I can make you moan loud enough to find you through echolocation.
Jey nearly goes lightheaded from the blood fleeing his head, all of it rushing down to his dick, already half hard against the mattress.
Jule: That was oddly poetic
Jule: Maybe we do a practice run tonight?
Miza: I think I just came from that text alone
Miza: You really have no fucking clue what you do to me
His willingness is intoxicating, putting Jey in a daze as he hurries against the pillows, wiggling his sweats down to his knees. They're both insatiable, texts going from sweet to sin in a matter of seconds, never getting enough of each other regardless of how long they talk.
Their second time is more intense than the first, with Jey making a stronger attempt to respond, practically edging himself every time he has to type back. Miza's words feed the fire in his stomach, an overwhelming pleasure so heavy he forgets to breathe.
But ultimately, he can't type anymore; chest heaving, hand pumping disharmoniously against his thrashing hips, his other hand gripping the headboard for dear life, lips parted to release noises he's never heard himself make, vision like TV static as tears leak from his eyes.
He cums so hard he thinks he'll go unconscious. Losing control over everything, whining through the aftershocks, moving his hand away when it becomes too overstimulating.
Miza's there for him when he comes to, still reeling from his own orgasm, offering kind words and funny jokes that lead them into some sort of conversation about Texas that Jey's too tired to really pay attention to.
He wishes Miza was actually here. They'd lay together while he'd ramble about previous experiences he's had in Texas. He could close his eyes and just listen, smile along, enjoy the company of another person in this setting.
But Miza is just words on a screen right now, Jey having to imagine what he sounds like, feels like, laughs like. He has to keep his eyes open and respond, just words on a screen to Miza.
At some point, between a story about Miza's visit to the Alamo and his first time trying Whataburger, he's too exhausted to respond, phone slipping from his grasp and leaning askew against a nearby pillow. He watches half-asleep when Miza realizes, eyes growing heavier as his final messages of the night pour in.
Miza: Jule?
Miza: "Are you there?" LOL that's so funny still
Miza: I'm going to assume you fell asleep
Miza: Good to know my stories are THAT interesting
Miza: I'm kidding
Miza: Goodnight, baby
Miza: Sleep well
Miza: Come stalk me tomorrow when you're in Texas :)
Notes:
Dare I say that you'll be seeing the implosion of Jey's mind and emotions NEXT CHAPTER?
Chapter 7: The Disintegration
Summary:
When Jey arrives in Houston late on Tuesday, unable to meet with Miza as he planned, they push their plans to the next night. During an experimental way to discuss their meeting the next evening, Jey uncovers the horrifying truth of Miza's identity.
Notes:
Get your tissues and some water, folks! Another chapter over 5,000 words, and better yet, DRAMAAAAA.
Thanks for all your support!
Enjoy! <3 :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jey keeps his hood over his face while he sits in the terminal, sinking lower in the seat as the airline attendant alerts that the plane is being delayed again.
Initially, their flight was set to depart a little after noon. That's why they hustled out the door at ten to get through security by eleven. Jey was just jamming his feet back into his sneakers when Jimmy told them the flight was delayed until one.
After years of travel, an hour long delay is nothing. They've gone through much worse. In fact, they enjoyed the extra time; walked around to find a quick lunch, browsed the various shops, fucked around with the random vending machines. But when they returned back to the terminal, they were informed the flight was delayed by another two hours.
The attendant blamed the weather, which was shown on a nearby television. A cell of red, orange, and yellow plaguing the northeast, particularly Baltimore, where their scheduled plane was flying in from. Though, the meteorologist said it was to clear up soon, move further north into Canada within the hour.
And it did, hope pouring into the terminal as it was announced the flight had departed, tailwind supposedly aiding in the plane's arrival time.
Jey's not exactly sure what happened between two hours ago and now, but the flight is delayed for another thirty minutes while they clean and prep a different plane for their flight to Houston.
He's too frustrated to care what the hell is going on anymore, as long as he gets to Houston by the end of the night, he'll be happy.
Well, not completely happy. The delays have completely ruined his plans; plans he made earlier, plans that kept his mood bright through the first two delays, plans that won't happen today, and may never happen at all.
It started this morning, at nine, when he woke up to persistent vibrations against his cheek. Somewhat agitating until he realized the cause.
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
He couldn't help but smile, blinking sleep away, stretching lazily as he responds.
Jule: Miza it's so early
Miza: Not my question
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Miza: Are you here yet?
Jule: Stop omg
Jule: I'm landing around 2:30
Miza: What the FUCK do I do for five hours?
Jule: Miza, we don't even have plans
Miza: What? :(
Miza: So you're not going to stalk me and find me? :(
Miza: You lied to me? :(
Miza: Our playlist? :(
Jule: You're crazy :(
Miza: WOW JULE
Miza: I thought what we had was special
Jule: I don't even know what part of Texas to start searching in
Miza: Houston
Miza: Whoops finger slipped
Miza: Sorry
Miza: See you at three
Miza: Sorry another slip
Jey remembers his body heating up, cells buzzing, tingling everywhere from his toes to his ears. Houston. Of all the cities in Texas Miza could be in, he's in the exact city Jey's going to.
He's not sure what he did to become so lucky. Still isn't. A couple nights ago, he was starting to believe he was destined for nothing but wrestling. That he's only valuable in that ring, and the moment he can't perform, he'll be tossed away as distant memory. Reside in Florida as a washed up celebrity with no spouse, no kids, no nothing.
But now, here he is with someone so obsessed with him he's willing to share his location and disregard his safety. A man who worships him every waking second. A lover who strives every day to make him laugh louder, smile brighter, sleep sounder, cum harder, and live happier.
And Jey's clearly that same level of lovesick. Mind swerving off the road of caution and into the freeway of desperation, hoping to collide with Miza.
Jule: You're fucking kidding
Miza: Jule stop
Miza: If you're about to tell me you're also coming to Houston, I'll lose my mind
Jule: I'm coming to Houston
Miza: Oh my FUCKJNG GODDDF
Miza: Julw, this is a one in a million chance right noq
Miza: I KNEW I made that playlist fpr a good reason
Miza: Amish Paradise is cued UP
Miza was so excited he couldn't type, or technically, didn't care to slow down and type correctly. He kept making mistakes for at least ten minutes after that.
Together, over two hours, they made an agreement to meet up somewhere in Houston around six in a public location, promising up and down they're not crazy people. Not that either really cared about that themselves. They're both the same degree of insane and desperate. It was more of a courtesy to assure the other.
But that seems like a distant memory now after four or so hours in Hell--The Birmingham Shuttleworth International Airport. His arrival time now pushed back past their meeting time, and that brings Jey to where he is now, slumped in an uncomfortable chair, texting Miza about another delay, his well of luck seeming to empty.
Jule: Another delay
Jule: I'm not getting in until past six
Jule: Miza I'm so sorry
Miza: Stop apologizing, you can't help it
Miza: I get it
Miza: I travel for work too, remember?
Miza: I'm just sad you're trapped in some airport for even longer
Jule: This was our chance though
Jule: I'm pissed
Miza: Relax, baby
Miza: I'm not leaving Houston yet
Jule: But you have work these next few days
Miza: We can try and plan something still
Miza: I'm not leaving until I meet you
Miza: They'll have to drag me out of this city, I swear to god
Miza: I'll be in a straight jacket yelling about constellations and gay awakenings
Jey's furrowed brow and harsh frown relax into loosened shoulders and a dopey smile that he has to cover with his hoodie.
Moments like this make him wonder how he ever lived thirty-seven years without Miza, because he can't imagine not ever having him. Yes, Jimmy, Roman, and Solo have been his rocks all his life, and that won't ever change, but Miza is just different.
Miza's everything he's not. All the missing pieces of his puzzle, all the lost keys to his locks, all the ice to his fire, all the wrecking balls to his walls.
It's not fair that the world bring them together, so close, just to keep them apart. Like they're magnets, two alike poles forcing themselves together, knowing they'll never be able to connect. The thought of never meeting Miza makes him nauseous. Just a man forever confined in his phone.
Jule: Lol
Jule: I'll do the same and maybe we'll just meet in the mental hospital
Miza: That's the spirit! :)
Miza: We can save that idea as the last resort
Miza: I just got word my schedule is clear tomorrow evening.
Miza: How about tomorrow, same time?
Jule: Only if you bring the cymbals
Miza: They're fucking RENTALS
Miza: Are you trying to get me fired???
Jule: Yes
Jule: Cymbals or I'm not showing up
Miza: You bastard
Miza: Fine but if you lose them, you're paying
Jule: Deal
Jule: Where do you want to go tomorrow?
Miza: Straight to my hotel room
Jule: I'm starting to think you're just in it for the sex
Jule: Virginity Bandit
Miza: JULE I'M NOT THE FUCKING VIRGINITY BANDIT
Jule: You haven't proved otherwise
Miza: I'm actually a true gentleman
Miza: I'll take you out to the finest fast food restaurant
Miza: Whatever you want off the dollar menu, baby, it's yours
"Who are you textin' that's got you blushing so hard?"
Jey tenses up, clicking his phone off instantly, looking up to the figure he hasn't noticed standing in front of him until now.
Jimmy's there, cocked head and raised eyebrow, suspiciously looking between Jey and the phone.
"Nobody," Jey shakes his head. "Just some stupid memes."
"You know I can tell when you lyin', right?"
"It's nothin', go away."
"Hey," Jimmy pouts. "I'm trying to help you," He nods to the screen, the angry red 'Delayed' now turned into a welcoming green 'Boarding'. "You gotta get your shit together."
"Oh shit," He stands quick, shoving his chargers into his bag.
"Are you feeling okay?" His brother presses. "You ain't been yourself."
"I'm fine," Jey dismisses. "Promise."
It's completely unbelievable to Jimmy, who's already suspicious as is after the incident in the hotel room on Sunday, but thankfully, the older drops it again.
"Talk to me if that changes."
"I will," He nods, following his brother toward the boarding line where Roman waits with his usual grace and patience, something that can't be found within anyone else in the terminal.
While Jimmy and Roman chat about dinner plans after arrival, Jey sneaks a final text to Miza, not wanting to leave him hanging.
Jule: You're so stupid
Jule: I'm boarding now
Jule: Talk soon
It's hard to put his phone away again. Even harder to ignore the notifications of Miza responding. But he has to, especially now that the older two have directed their attention to Jey, including him in the conversation.
He doesn't care about dinner. He'd much rather be eating in some shitty fast food joint with Miza, finally soaking him in, connecting the dots, fulfilling their prophecies
But he pretends he does, agreeing with whatever they choose while his stomach does flips over the prospect that in two hours, he'll be mere miles from Miza.
●●●
Houston's never been remarkable to him. Once he saw all the tourist spots, visited all the buildings, snapped numerous pictures, it just became what they all do: another city.
But the moment he steps off the plane, he's practically shaking, excitement lighting up every nerve in his body, head on a swivel as he looks around at every passing face.
The fact that any one of these people could be Miza is exhilarating. He wonders if he'd see him, their eyes meet, a passing glance turning into a fond gaze as they realize--know--it's the man they're falling for.
He barely has time to humor the nagging in his head, perpetually stabbing him with uncomfortable thoughts in an attempt to force him into fleeing from his love-struck headspace. It doesn't work, it's not as strong as Miza. It never will be.
Even in the car on the way to the hotel, he practically has his nose to the window, looking at every face wondering if that's him.
The sun dips well beyond the horizon by the time they pull up to the hotel, a little past seven. Jey's driving himself insane over the idea that Miza's somewhere in Houston, staring at his hotel wondering, desperately, if they're lucky enough to be staying here together.
It's just wishful thinking. They passed at least seven hotels on the way to this one. No way Miza's here. And that's even if he's on this side of Houston. The city itself is still massive. He honestly hasn't even thought about how much the Uber ride would be to wherever Miza is, but he honestly doesn't care. He'd spend a grand just to catch a glimpse of him.
"Y'all finally made it!"
His eyes fall from the building and onto his little brother, who beams as he walks toward the car.
"I was startin' to think we never would," Jey matches his expression.
"Man, I was this close," Jimmy holds up his hand, index finger and thumb just millimeters apart. "This close to bashing my head in."
"I'll never understand how sitting in an airport is more exhausting than a match," Roman says as he closes the trunk, thanking the driver before walking toward the group.
"I swear I've felt more energized after Royal Rumbles."
"Well, come on," Solo waves them on, leading them into the hotel. "Sami and I ordered pizza, I'm sure y'all are hungry."
The mention of the redhead sends ripples of agitation through his blissful mood. He forces the waters to level though, refusing to let absolutely anything, especially Sami Zayn, ruin his joy.
It's a lot harder when he actually sees Sami. A big smile slightly hidden by his bigger beard, standing in the dining area of the hotel lobby next to a stack of three pizza boxes.
"Hi, guys!" He chirps.
"There goes my appetite," Jey mutters, receiving an elbow to the ribs from his twin, who abandons him as he moves closer to Sami.
"My dawg," Jimmy points to him with a grin. "You got what I like?"
"You know it! Pepperoni, extra cheese," Sami confirms.
Left in the dust by his brother, Jey falls into step with Roman and Solo, who are currently disagreeing over payment.
"How much was it, Solo?" Roman asks. "Just tell me."
"You ain't paying this time," Solo shakes his head, now looking to Jey for support. "Jey, tell him he ain't payin'."
"Roman, you pay for everythin'. Let someone else take care of it."
Roman's not convinced. "Yeah, but--"
"Nope," Solo interuppts. "Don't worry about anything but gettin' some food, a shower, and eight hours of sleep."
The oldest looks nearly apologetic. "Thank you."
"Go on before Jim eats it all," Solo nudges him toward the table, where Jimmy's already nearing the crust of his first slice. "You too, Jey."
"Thanks, Solo," Jey pats his shoulder before speeding toward the table. "Damn, Jimmy, save some for me!"
The older twin snags the entire box, scrambling off with it, Jey in pursuit. The rest of the group find a seat at the table, taking slices from the other boxes while watching the twins.
"Dinner and a show," Sami muses.
"Should we stop them? Do you think they're being too loud?" Roman frowns, looking around nervously.
"Nah," Solo shakes his head, peeling back the plastic on his container of ranch. "They're like toddlers. Just let them tire themselves out."
And they do. For seven minutes, they chase each other in circles "fighting" over the pizza. Sami and Solo watch in amusement, craning their necks to try and get a view when the brothers slip down different hallways.
Even Roman finds it funny, enjoying the entertainment while still checking the faces of hotel workers and customers every other minute for signs of displeasure.
They inevitably collapse near the coffee counter, Jimmy covering the box with his body, swatting Jey away with a tired hand, complaining of a cramp in his ribs.
Jey pants, forming a truce in the name of hunger and exhaustion, which Jimmy agrees to with a firm handshake.
"The pizza's gon' be all messed up now," Jey stares at the box as Jimmy limps ahead of him.
"It'll taste the same all mushed up in your mouth," Jimmy plops in the nearest chair, beside Roman and across from Solo.
That leaves Jey with the only remaining seat, next to Jimmy and across from Sami, and it's enough to slow him down until he pauses over his twin's shoulder.
"Switch with me," He whispers.
He thinks his attempt at being subtle about his disdain for Sami would charm his brother into moving seats, but he's far too hopeful.
"Hell nah," Jimmy grumbles, grabbing Jey's wrist and pushing him toward the chair. "Sit down and eat."
The prospect of just leaving the table and going to his room is starting to sound better with each passing second. He'd get back to Miza sooner, discuss the finer details of tomorrow's plans well into the early hours of the morning.
But he can't quite bring himself to abandon the group when he looks to Solo, calm and quiet as usual, but his brown eyes buzzing with despondency.
So he sinks into the chair, looking anywhere but across from him, he can see a hint of a smile on Solo's lips, and it's enough to keep him situated and eating for the time being.
"Y'all see Paul's post?" Roman breaks the growing silence, drawing everyone's eyes from Jey.
"No," Sami shakes his head.
"The wifi here sucks," Solo adds. "It works one second and then goes dark the next."
"It's so annoying," The redhead mutters as he bites into a slice.
Jey watches him, almost laughing at his words, forcing his eyes away when Sami's bounce over. It's the pot calling the kettle black.
It's impossible to him how Sami seemingly has no fucking clue how irritating he is. Just batting his eyelashes in innocence when Jey gets frustrated, pretending he doesn't treat Jey the same.
He can feel his anger growing in his chest, thoughts ruminating, the slice in his hand unwanted.
Right now, he shouldn't be sitting across from Sami. He shouldn't be thinking about his existence, he shouldn't be staring at his bushy beard, he shouldn't be smelling his woodsy colonge.
Right now, he should be sitting across from Miza. Thinking about their future together, staring at his beautifully unknown features, smelling grease from the cheap fries.
It already hurts that he's missed his opportunity to dine with Miza, a raw subject he's too tense to even dive into. But sitting across from Sami instead is just salt in the wound.
He drops his slice onto his plate and takes a subtle deep breath, turning his eyes to Roman in attempts to distract himself.
"And he said that he'll get us each one to take a picture in."
Jey blinks, looking between his brothers to gather more context.
"Tell him thanks," Solo nods.
"Yeah, and congrats on the merch," Jimmy beams. "Wise Man deserves it."
Oh, right, Paul's merch. Roman reposted the post about it earlier during lunch. His shoulders relax slightly, listening to Roman ramble on further, acting too intrigued in the conversation, hoping nobody notices his loss of appetite.
He does a pretty good job, or at least he thinks he does, until they're cleaned up, checked in, and walking to their rooms when Solo pulls him aside.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, why?" Jey plays dumb.
Solo raises an eyebrow. "You had half a slice and then pretended Paul's new merch was the coolest thing ever."
"It is really cool that--"
"Not avoiding your favorite pizza kind of cool," They pause outside Jey's room. "What's going on?"
"Nothin'," Jey deflects, avoiding Solo's eyes unintentionally, looking around the hallway to grant relief from his brother's prying eyes.
And he does find something to look at, but he wouldn't jump to say it's at all relieving. It's Sami, the pestering fuck, lingering at the end of the hallway watching them from around the corner.
Solo turns to follow Jey's eyes, noting the harsh scowl finding his features, and sighs when he catches the source.
"Is this because of Sami?" Solo sighs. "Y'all gotta bury this hatchet."
No but yes. Solo's only really catching onto the insult of Sami and not the injury of Miza, and Jey intends to keep it that way, even if it means making himself look childish again over his hatred for the Canadian. For once, Jey's almost thankful for Sami, allowing Jey to cover his true emotions with his longstanding disgust.
"Why's he lookin' at us?" Jey growls, playing up his frustration carefully. "I'm gonna say something."
"He's waiting for me," Solo presses a hand to his chest, a warning not to move. "I know you hate him, but not eating over it is fuckin' crazy."
"I don't know how he don't make you lose your appetite too."
Solo rolls his eyes. "You two need therapy or something," He turns on his heel, hiking his duffle bag over his shoulder. "Text me if you need me."
"I will," Jey grumbles, tapping his keycard and rolling his suitcases into his room.
Like usual, he drops his stuff along the wall, falling onto his bed with a huff, thumbs habitually tapping his screen to enter his chat with Miza.
Miza: No you
Miza: Have a safe flight!
Miza: JULE
Miza: It's been two hours
Miza: Where are you?!
Miza: JULE
Miza: THREE HOURS JULE
Miza: You better be stalking me already
He instantly feels the world brighten and warm, the cold isolation of hotel rooms no longer bothering him, not since Saturday, not since Miza.
Jule: Miza
Jule: I'm outside your door
It makes him almost angry that he didn't meet Miza today. That he has to experience this delightful bliss over the phone again. That he has to imagine every feature on Miza's face instead of taking them in for real.
Just one more sleep, one more.
He takes a deep breath, forcing the displeasure down, not wanting any other thoughts occuping Miza's spot as the center of attention in his brain. Especially not when he's active, texts ringing in with vigor.
Miza: JULE HI
Miza: YOU AREN'T HERE
Miza: YOU LIAR
Miza: Why would you lie to me?
Miza: I wore my fancy underwear
Miza: My only pair without rips :(
Jule: Miza wtf
Jule: You need new underwear
Miza: I'd say you can help me with that but YOU AREN'T HERE
Jule: I'm better at taking underwear off
Miza: God
Miza: Save all that for tomorrow
Jule: Should we just cut out the middle man?
Jule: Meet at your hotel?
Miza: Jule, you're just horny
Miza: We'll have all night for that
Miza: I want to stare at your pretty face for two hours over french fries
Jule: That's fine with me
Jule: Where at?
Miza: You pick
Jule: Well where are you in Houston?
Miza's text bubbles appear and disappear numerous times, a pit of worry growing over time in Jey's stomach. His anxiety igniting as it runs him through every terrible outcome imaginable, leaving his rational mind attempts to fan the flames.
What if Miza lied? Is just stringing him along from halfway across the world?
But that's not possible. He said Houston first, and he would have no way of knowing Jey was going to Houston.
What if Miza's not into him? Just pretending for text sex, attempting to come up with a good enough lie to cover it.
But that's not possible. Miza's excitement was genuine, uncontained. Hell, he even told Jey to slow down and save it for their meeting. A meeting he wants.
Miza's response tears his attention away, freeing him from the chains of his worry, wrapping him in serenity.
Miza: This may be hard to organize over text
Miza: I understand if not, but do you want to call?
Miza: Talk out the details obviously
Miza: But kinda make up for not meeting today by giving each other a little hint?
Jey's eyes widen, a small smile forming as his teeth attach to his lip to nip at dry patches.
Miza's response is better than he could've dreamed of. He didn't even ponder the idea of calling, getting a taste of Miza, putting a voice to the flirty remarks, cheesy jokes, and sweet comments.
His anxiety doesn't completely disappear, taking advantage of his subconscious self-consciousness.
Hearing Miza will make it real, too real. Real to the fact that he's going to meet a man tomorrow, a man that wants to dine him, love him, fuck him.
It's beyond Miza. Tomorrow, he's going to confront the new side of himself, sit face to face with his confusing sexuality, hear the voice in his head degrade him.
Maybe it's too much. Maybe it's too fast. God, what the hell is he fucking thinking? He could be murdered tomorrow for fuck's sake. All because he's fucking desperate.
Miza: We don't have to, baby
Miza: I'm sorry
With Miza's text, the addition of the pet name he's grown to crave; the good feelings take over again, the visceral obsession and overwhelming want. Limerence.
Jule: No
Jule: I want to
Jule: Let's call
Miza: You sure?
Miza: I understand if not
Jule: Shut the fuck up and call me
Miza: Whatever you say, you sexy leo
Miza's reply only solidifies his desires, and he gnaws on his lip as he waits for the call. Jey's honestly not even sure how to call on MeetMe. But clearly, Miza's sifted through the app more than him, because after three quiet seconds, his phone lights up.
Incoming call from Miza
His stomach twists into knots as he stares at the screen, excitement and nerves building, his palms sweating, muscles tensing.
He taps the green button, accepting the call, body and mind freezing in the static silence. It's his responsibility to greet Miza first, but he...can't. It's terrifying in the most exhilarating way. Heart pounding, yearning for the first viable proof Miza isn't just stuck behind his screen.
"Hello? Jule?"
The moment should be beautiful. His nickname being said by the man he's been thinking and dreaming of for the last couple days. But it's not. Not when the voice sounds eerily similar to one he's forever associated with nails of a chalkboard.
Sami.
Miza can't be Sami. He couldn't be. Miza is funny and loving and charming and fucking perfect. And Sami, Sami's damn near the antichrist to him; terrorizing him, dancing on his last nerve, haunting his life. Miza's not Sami, Miza's his escape from Sami.
It's a mistake. He misheard. Or it just sounds close to Sami because of the shitty quality. Or it's just the way he said those words.
"Jule...? Are you there?" He laughs lightly. "Get it?"
No...no...no, no, no, no, NO.
Jey's phone falls from his hand onto the mattress, the world around him slipping, crashing, melting around him like a Salvador Dalí painting. His breath is caught in his throat, choking him, leaving him to suffer as his head swirls, feeling like it's full of helium.
There's no convincing himself. No more false hope to cling to. Miza, his release, his escape, his person...is Sami Zayn.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" Sami questions. "Jule?"
His vision blurs as the room rises to an ungodly temperature. His stomach tightens so much its constricting him, suffocating him, leaving him to curl away from the phone, cupping a hand over his face in shock and sickness.
The few bites of pizza threaten to come up. He forces it down, squeezing his eyes shut as Sami continues.
"This stupid hotel has the worst wifi," He mutters to himself, barely audible if Jey wasn't currently motionless and gagged.
He trembles, shoulders lurching as he feels a sob rip up his chest, muffled by his hand. It's horrifying, gutting, nauseating, and he loses control over his body's reactions, falling into himself.
"Hey, Jule, if you can hear me, I can't hear you. I'm going to hang up and try again, okay?"
The line beeps as it Sami leaves, but Jey still can't compose himself enough to move, think, or even breathe. His teeth clench together when the phone rings again, moisture slipping from his eyes.
Incoming call from Miza
Miza. The name tattooed in his brain and behind his eyelids, on his tongue and on his heart. Miza's gone.
But he really fucking isn't. Miza is Sami. He's always been Sami. And that should be enough reason to answer the call and out himself as Jule, push past the pain and hard feelings, figure this all out.
He can't though, sick and stuck in his position as the call comes and goes. Jey suffers through a text notification, another call, and two more texts, and then, finally, silence.
The silence hurts more than the noise, leaving him alone with his thoughts, breaking him. He collapses on his side, burying his face into the pillows as he cries, mourning Miza.
It's ridiculous. Miza's not gone. He's a text away. He's mourning the loss of a man who is right there awaiting him desperately.
But Miza's forever stained with Sami. His mind tears itself apart, trying to differentiate the two. It's useless. Miza is Sami, Sami is Miza.
The truth shatters him further, cries becoming wails, worsened by more text notifications. He desperately wants to reach for them. Reach for...Him. But he can't bring himself to do it.
It all makes sense now. Every little thing Jey thought was fate, an invisible string, the stars aligning.
They were never just lucky to travel the same days with the same hours, He just had the same schedule.
He always traveled for work, work that He labeled as being a "Circus Monkey", work that Jey could relate to wrestling so greatly because they're both wrestlers.
When He left Jey on Sunday around six, the same time that He and Solo said they were going for dinner and music.
Even the stupid little things, like how He said He wasn't American. How He said He heard good things about Polynesia. It all was right in front of his fucking face and he didn't even fucking see it.
Jey wishes this was a bad dream. That he'll wake up back in Birmingham to Miza annoying him about his arrival. The world will feel warm again, safe again, perfect again.
But it's not. It's a waking nightmare. There's no more Miza. Because He is Sami.
Everything they did together. Jey did it with Sami.
He laughed with Sami.
He smiled with Sami.
He flirted with Sami.
He felt so much joy because of Sami.
He could be free because of Sami.
He realized he's into men because of Sami.
He begged for Sami.
He moaned for Sami.
He came for Sami.
Each realization buries him further in disgust and depression. A hole so deep he may never escape.
Text notifications continue. He dares lift his head from the pillow to look, never being able to wipe the tears as fast as they come.
Miza: Jule, did I lose you?
Miza: It says you're reading these, but I think the WiFi at this hotel is just shit
Miza: You there?
Miza: Jule?
Miza: Jule, I'm sorry. I pushed you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.
Miza: I'm here whenever you want
Miza: Or if you don't want
Miza: I get it
Miza: Just know I'm so sorry.
His hand instinctively reaches for the phone, desperate to fix Miza's sorrow. He can't stand seeing it, twisting his gut into a balloon animal.
He stops himself though, remembering it's not Miza. Or well, it is, but--fuck.
For months, he's prayed to see Sami upset. Loathed him so much he never cared what the hell happened to him. This should delight him, send him into a fit of giggles, pop a bottle of champagne and celebrate until dawn.
But it doesn't. It makes him sicker. Makes him regret ever staying awake long enough Saturday night to download this stupid app.
His lip curls up, anger swelling in his sadness, face contorted as tears fall. In a harsh swipe, accompanied by a defeated cry, the phone flies from the bed and onto the carpet across the room.
It doesn't matter if it's broken. He doesn't care. He's too broken himself, crumpling back against the mattress, body racking with violent sobs.
And for the first time in days, a thought crosses his mind. Something he never thought he'd believe. Something he wouldn't even dare to imagine. But he feels it, hears it, wants, louder and more powerful than anything.
He wishes he never met Miza.
Notes:
I'm so sorry for breaking your hearts :(
And Jey's too.
Chapter 8: Guilt
Summary:
Jey and Sami deal with the fallout of their broken online relationship
Notes:
I'm so sorry it's been two weeks since my last update! I've been so sick recently and lost my drive to focus on anything.
I hope you enjoy! I love you all!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jey's alarm blares from the other side of the room, waking him from his fitful sleep. He lifts his heavy head, blinking away the exhaustion, looking around his room for his phone.
For a moment, he's completely confused. Why is his phone on the other side of the room? Why did he fall asleep in yesterday's clothes on top of the sheets? Why does he feel like he just got hit by a fucking bus?
All the answers come flooding in after he takes note of his packed luggage untouched along the entryway, where he normally leaves them when he's too eager to respond to Miza.
Miza.
Miza. The name tattooed in his brain and behind his eyelids, on his tongue and on his heart. Miza's gone.
But he really fucking isn't. Miza is Sami. He's always been Sami.
Sami.
Jey's gut squeezes at the reminder, forcing a groan from him. He wishes he just rolled back over and stayed curious, gave himself a few more seconds of normalcy before remembering the horrors of last night.
But there's no escaping it. In fact, it's the only fucking thing he can think about, forcing its way into his head even when he kicks it out.
He turns off the alarm and abandons his phone in the same place he hit it to last night, head swirling at the mere thought of opening it and checking notifications.
Instead, he finds gym clothes and changes from yesterday's, hopelessly hoping that he could strip the emotions with it. He snags his headphones and his hotel key before leaving his room, hood up and head down, headphones covering his ears.
His eyes stay on the ground, distracting himself the best he can by judging the shoes of the people he passes.
Currently, he's in the elevator with a middle-aged woman on the phone, squeaky voice arguing the person on the other end.
She sounds like a bitch--looks like a bitch too, standing in some sort of sneakers that Jey could only describe in a gag. They're...white--barely anymore with the amount of stains--with details in an obnoxious shade of metallic orange.
"Yes, you have. Two months ago in Sioux Falls, you made a comment 'bout his shoes. You said they looked cheap and dirty."
Bile rises in his throat. He swallows it back, mind scrambling to find a new way to hide from anything that could remind him of Sami Zayn.
Through his headphones, more of an accessory without any music, just another way to drive people away from speaking to him, he can hear the conversation of Ugly Shoe Bitch beside him.
"I don't think you understand!" She spits. "You don't get to ignore me like that and expect it all to be peachy!"
Jey feels a twitch of discomfort from the ignoring comment, reminded how he ghosted Miza--Sami--last night. But it's pushed from his head when she takes a sudden, giant gasp, startling him slightly.
"You motherfucker!"
And wow, Jey wishes she could come with him to the gym, distract him with the gossip so he doesn't sink back into the trenches of his mind. Because whatever she's got going on is interesting enough to collect his full attention.
"How dare you even say that!?" She scoffs. "I've given my--"
The person on the other end cuts her off, stunning her, freezing her in place. He's so nosy that he lifts his head just enough to see her face, contorted in hatred.
"Oh yeah!?" She screams. "I was fucking my boss too!"
Jey covers his instant shock with a cough, leaving his hand over his face to cover his bases in case any more shit spills out.
"Oh, I'm a bitch!? No more than you! I'm a fucking saint! Been putting up with your shit for seven years!"
Miza: It sounds more like you, Jule. Hate to break it to you.
Miza: But I'm a fucking SAINT and I'll put up with you :)
The beauty of drama other than his own falls apart, another phrase yanking him back into his persistent depression.
When the elevator opens, he rushes out, slipping past the lobby and the swarm of people enjoying breakfast, hoping he won't hear his own name ringing in his ears. Not that he'd even respond anyway.
The gym is empty, giving him free reign over the space, total choice over whatever he wants, but he still heads to a treadmill in the far corner instead.
He taps the buttons, starting himself at six miles an hour, a rhythmic jog. It's freeing to move for a little bit, maybe ten minutes where he naively believes working out will clear his mind.
But that's just a false illusion. The thoughts flood back in the longer he jogs, ruthlessly harassing him. Dragging him through the motions of his relationship with Miza--Sami--against his will.
Miza: I'd happily get another two hours of shitty sleep to spend all night talking with you.
Miza: Well shit, now I'm the one moving quick.
Miza: Your turn to tell your parents about us
Jey squeezes his eyes shut, muttering a swear. The morning after they met, the beginning of the end. He needs to get away from this.
In stride, he pushes the button up to seven miles an hour, a dull ache growing in his calves as his jog turns into a run.
Miza: I must know what music you like now
Miza: And that question has NOTHING to do with what we play when we fuck so don't even assume that.
That night never leaves his brain. Every feeling, every sensation, every desire. It use to exhilarate him when he'd look back on it, revisiting those texts with his tongue between his teeth, mindlessly rubbing his thighs together for friction.
Now, he just ponders the idea of a lobotomy. Anything to reboot his brain, wipe the hard drive, start fresh without Sami in his head.
Miza: You're such a slut
Miza: Can't even take your hand off your cock for two seconds to respond
A shiver runs down his spine, curling around his ribs, settling in his stomach. Those words wrecked him that night, and he hates to admit they still do.
He pants as he smashes the button again, upping the speed, his feet stuttering as he forces them to adjust. There's no stopping, no slowing down; running hard as if it'll help him evade the thoughts, help him evade the feelings.
Miza: That's a good hour of Jule time that I just don't get to have.
Miza: I'm going to go on strike and not talk to you for an hour of your day
Sami should have never responded. Committed to the strike. Left Jey in the dust. Save him from this hell.
But he would have been devastated. He was devastated. The hours of silence that followed gutted him, leaving him to crave Miza more in his absence.
It's insane how ridiculous that is looking back. He craved Miza the entire time he was sitting beside him, sitting beside Sami.
His brain still lacks the ability to differentiate at times, struggling to understand that one person is not two people.
Jey feels himself weaken, skin heating to a ridiculous temperature, hoodie seemingly baking him. All he can hear is his own heartbeat, too fast in his ears, disharmonious against his jagged breathing. He forces the pain down, grunting as he keeps himself moving. If he stops, he'll feel.
Miza:
Haha you're
so funny Jule wow omg
Miza: Bye, baby
Miza: Talk soon
That nickname always got him. Pet names were never really his thing, not until Miza at least. He melted every time he'd use it, so casually slipping it into the sentence, probably unaware of the tailspin it'd send Jey into. He adored being Miza's 'baby'.
It'd always make him want to give Miza one, acting as a way to claim him. He never felt one stick; often typing one out in a message and staring at it, growing uncomfortable with the structure, before rapidly deleting it.
His vision doubles, causing him to miss the button a few times before successfully adding to the speed. He's fully sprinting now, in absolute agony, lungs aching and muscles cramping. It's too much, he feels sick, overheated, taxed.
He should stop. He wants to stop. He needs to stop.
He can't stop. He doesn't deserve to stop.
Miza: JULE OH MY GOD
Miza: We need to sext again tomorrow
night and
I'll see if I can make you moan loud enough to find you through echolocation
That message almost makes his stomach flutter like it did that night. It probably would if he could feel his stomach right now. Everything's going fuzzy, his legs starting to stumble slightly as he's losing feeling in everything.
Insult to injury, he didn't just cum for Miza once, but he did it twice.
Salt in the wound, he keeps thinking Miza isn't Sami.
He needs to stop beating around the bush, stop protecting himself, confront the fact that he did it all for Sami fucking Zayn.
Miza: I understand if not, but do you want to call?
Miza: Talk out the details obviously
Miza: But kinda make up for not meeting today by giving each other a little hint?
And there is is. The end. The spark of Saturday igniting the truth of Tuesday, exploding, shrapnel of their ruined relationship hitting him in the heart.
His body gives out, causing him to collapse off the treadmill in exhaustion and tumbling to the linoleum floor in an unconscious heap.
●●●
"Are you okay?"
The voice sounds like it's speaking to him through water, unidentifiable and muffled. His eyelids feel like weights and his limbs like lead as he attempts to move.
"You with me, baby?"
Baby.
Miza. It's Miza. He's here. He found Jey. Everything's going to be okay again.
Jey fights to pull himself toward consciousness, toward Miza, beginning to regain sensation in his body. "Miza."
"What?"
He can feel warm hands on him, one gripping his shoulder and the other gently protecting his neck as he comes to.
It doesn't surprise him, Miza's always been so considerate and caring.
"Miza," He tries again, forcing his eyes open slightly, wincing from the artificial light.
There's a hesitation, the person squeezing his shoulder after a second before they continue. "You okay?"
The voice is getting clearer now. It's recognizable. Squeaky. Feminine. And Jey realizes he's been far too hopeful.
"Do I need to call an ambulance?"
Jey peels his eyes open enough to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, he takes note of Ugly Shoe Bitch kneeling beside him. She's taken the liberty of propping him against the wall and removing his hoodie and headphones.
"Thank fucking god," She whispers when their eyes meet. "What the hell were you doing running at nine miles an hour?"
Trying to explain to this woman that he was running from his gay thoughts isn't exactly the easiest conversation to begin.
And he's not sure how to properly segue into the fact that his online lover turned out to be his real-life enemy.
So instead, he just shakes his head and curls away from her. "Just trainin'."
"For what?" She frowns. "Death?"
"Ain't a bad option," He mumbles, planting his hands on the ground and attempting to push himself upward.
It doesn't work as planned, his muscles tremble as he barely moves three inches. He groans, sinking back against the floor.
"Baby, you need to give yourself a minute," She brushes a couple curls off his forehead, voice softer.
That name is nearly insulting now, especially that he's cognitive enough to realize he was asking for Miza just a minute prior, the nickname special to just them.
Correction: Just them and Sami.
A further, more painful correction: Just him and Sami.
"What's going on?" She shifts positions, moving beside him against the wall and sticking out her legs.
"Nothin', I'm fine," He grumbles, hoping his body reboots fast enough to avoid any further integration on his self-destruction.
"You aren't."
Jey shoots her a death glare, mustering all his energy into its intensity. She doesn't even flinch, staring at him right back unamused.
"I'm a mom, you know," She informs. "I got this look when my kids were teenagers all the time."
"You ain't my mom."
"No, but she's not here and her baby needs some help."
"I don't need help," He bites before breaking eye contact, once again attempting to leave.
He barely gets any higher than last time before he drops back to the linoleum with a huff. His face burns in embarrassment, noting her still looking at him from his peripheral.
"I'm Kathy," She says after an awkward few seconds of silence.
Clearly, he's not getting out of this conversation anytime soon. As much as he hates her for sticking around, prying into his business, he's somewhat grateful he's not alone while his body traps him here.
He blinks away the remaining stars from his straining. "Jey."
"So," She draws out the vowel, eyes bouncing around the room. "Are you just having a bad morning?"
Jey wrinkles his nose, frustrated with her and disgusted in himself. If he's being forced to sit here, he's not talking about Sami Zayn.
"Can we talk about somethin' else?"
"I had a bad morning too," Kathy taps the toes of her nasty orange shoes together.
Jey's well aware of that. Her terrible morning was the only relief he had from the nagging voice and flashes of copper hair that have plagued him since last night.
"Yeah?" He looks over.
He'd love to know more. It's probably a bad trait, but he's insanely nosy. And it's just a perk that her wounds sutured his earlier. Maybe he could listen to her ramble about her shit until he's better and avoid her questions about his thoughts.
"The worst," She shakes her head. "My husband went radio silent on me since Sunday. Turns out he was fucking his boss."
Jey widens his eyes, pretending to be utterly shocked. "No way."
"Yep," Her fingers mindlessly dance along the frayed hem of her shirt. "He called me a bad wife. Told me that's why he went to her."
Even though Jey barely knows her, perhaps even dislikes her somewhat, she doesn't seem like a bad person, let alone a bad wife.
His eyebrows knit, a genuine frown finding his face. "That's awful."
"He's awful," Kathy emphasizes. "But jokes on him, I was fucking my boss too."
"Good for you," He nods.
A silence settles between them, only filled by muffled voices of other hotel guests beyond the gym door. Jey wonders if it's his signal to get up again, take the opportunity before she rips into his emotions. But for some reason, he doesn't want to.
Maybe it's interest in the parts of the story he still doesn't know, maybe it's because he kind of likes the company, but he just remains in place next to Kathy and watches the light sparkle against her sneakers.
"I always knew I loved my boss," She turns to him after a moment, soft eyes blooming with raw emotion. "But I always pushed it away. It...felt so wrong and I was so scared."
Jey feels himself loosen slightly, all but his chest, which strains from her words. It's from the way her story oddly resonates with his. Their two differing experiences of heartache hardships somehow relating at the root.
"I stayed with my husband for so long--too long. I wasted so much time hating my life because I couldn't admit to myself that the man I married wasn't as perfect as the man who saved me."
God, he just wants her to shut the fuck up now. He can't stand the way his throat starts to swell, his heart pounding erratically, her situation ringing far too close to home, too close for comfort.
He turns away from her, scrunching his nose repeatedly in desperate hope for relief from the unrelenting tingling.
It's too fresh to think about still, at least with no rigorous exercise to drown it out. Everything she's saying makes too much sense; all the pain and suffering in her shitty life, all because she was too scared to admit she's in love with someone who actually made it better.
At least she's on her way out of cycle, breaking the chains that bind her to sorrow and running full force toward jubilation. It sounds so easy to do from the outside looking in, but Jey can't imagine doing that himself.
"How did you do it?" He finally asks, full attention put into keeping his voice level.
"Do what, baby?" She questions.
He can feel her eyes on him, warm but not burning, waiting patiently for an answer he can't gather the composure to give.
"I did it when I truly realized how awful things had gotten," Kathy begins, almost knowingly, as if reading his mind. "I felt so isolated and alone constantly. All for nothing. I had happiness right there for the taking, and I was avoiding it because I was scared."
Jey clenches his fists around the fabric of his shorts and tugging slightly, directing his attention away from the overwhelming weight of awareness.
"I'm not sure what you're going through," She says as she stands, causing his eyes to bounce over for a second, in time to see her hand extended out to him.
He takes a deep breath, failing to hide the tremble within it, as he grabs her hand and uses it to help pull himself up.
"But as someone who took that scary leap of faith," She keeps his hand safe between hers once he's steady, running her thumb along his skin. "I promise it'll be better than whatever pain you're trapped in now."
Realizing it is one thing, but accepting it is a whole other. Jey doesn't think there could ever be a version of him that would willingly choose Sami Zayn.
"Miza was their name?"
Jey's eyes shoot up, the name consuming him like always; body heating, heart twirling, stomach fluttering, brain buzzing. She takes note of it, lips curling into a soft smile.
"You deserve happiness, Jey," Her voice lowers to a velvety whisper. "Let yourself have it."
●●●
Shame is a burden.
It's dense, consuming, inescapable, sickening.
A heavy weight in his chest, constantly making it hard to breathe. A large roadblock in his head, constantly making it hard to think. A tight knot in his stomach, constantly making it hard to eat.
He hasn't thought about anything other than Jule. The rush of excitement coming to a screeching halt on the edge of greatness before crashing into a cliff of confusion.
Sami thought that'd be the worst part. The sudden silence from Jule. But that wasn't it. It was the wreckage of guilt and embarrassment that came after.
Naively hoping it was just the crappy WiFi even when he saw that Jule was reading the messages.
All he could think to do was apologize for a mistake he didn't know he made. Maybe it was the greeting or the joke or the mere idea to call him.
How Jule went from eager to distant in five seconds will never make sense to him. Those five seconds are the biggest regret in his life. Those five seconds took his favorite thing away from him.
It's absolutely ridiculous to call the guy he met four days ago his favorite thing. In a realm of reason, he knows that. But Jule was is favorite thing.
He never got to experience love like his friends did. They all found wives and had children, reasons to wake up in the morning and sleep well at night.
They tell him he's lucky to still be a bachelor. With a good job, steady income, unchecked freedom, the world's allegedly in the palm of his hand.
But there's no point in anything without a reason, and for so long, he never had one. No one to think about at work, no one to spend that money on, no one to have that freedom with.
But Jule became his reason. As stupid as that sounds. In four short days, Jule was his everything. The only thought in his head. The only joy of his day. The only apple of his eye.
Jule was different than anyone he's ever liked. He was like a drug, addicting and consuming; getting Sami high with every text and leaving him scrambling with want in every absence.
Now he's gone entirely, no warning, cold turkey, slipping through his fingers. And Sami's left to suffer in deprivation.
"Hey," A hand appears, snapping in front of his face and breaking him out of his heartbroken haze.
Sami's eyes bounce up to meet Solo's, who stares at him with concern masked behind a face of confusion.
"What's goin' on with you?" He asks, sliding their tray onto the table. "You been like this all morning."
"I'm sorry," Sami shakes his head, looking at the food he doesn't care to eat. "Just tired."
"Talk to me," Solo sits across from him, folding his hands in his lap, full undivided attention on Sami.
There's so many striking differences and similarities between Solo and his in-ring persona. Unlike his character, Solo is always responsive and caring. He has the biggest heart out of anyone Sami's ever met.
In line with his character, he's quiet and meticulous, but not in a bad way. He's a people watcher, picking up on the tiniest changes, approaching them on it with the utmost respect and composure.
Sami knows his changes haven't exactly been tiny. Barely sleeping mixed with his ever racing mind has taken a toll on his appearance and attitude. And while he's done an exceptional job of forcing smiles and laughs for the media all morning, it hasn't been enough to trick the watchful eye of Solo.
The fact that Solo hasn't looked or reached for his meal yet--he always prefers when his food is hot enough to scorch his mouth--is a testament for how much he genuinely cares about Sami's wellbeing.
"It's really nothing," Sami dismisses as he grabs his salad.
It's normally his on-the-road favorite, Mediterranean Greens with no feta from Panera Bread. His options for fast food meals are next to nothing as a vegan, so he finds Panera Bread to be his salvation.
The rest of the Bloodline admittedly don't care much for Panera, but they always go for Sami and find something appealing off the menu. Well, except Jey, who refuses to eat anything here aside from the crusts off Jimmy's sandwich, which Sami's told is just his way of protesting Sami's pull in the family.
But that's exactly why they're here now, Solo's attempt to make Sami feel better by picking his favorite place for his favorite quick meal. And Sami doesn't have the heart to tell Solo he's not even hungry, and the idea of ingesting anything makes him nauseous.
"I know when you're lyin', Sami."
He's unrelenting in the most casual sense, pressing further while still reaching for his meal and eyeing the chicken and avocado between toasted focaccia like it's the most important thing on his mind.
Sami would love to tell him. The stress and shame is filling him like a balloon and he swears another second of it will make him burst. But he can't. How could he start? Hi, I started a sudden gay relationship less than a week ago and now he stopped talking to me?
How the hell could Solo help him with that? Solo's understanding, he wouldn't give a fuck about the gay thing, but he'd probably tell Sami everything his rational side already knows; it was four days with a total stranger, it wasn't love, he fell too hard and was in too deep, it was just limerence.
But he doesn't want to hear that. He wants to be told all his daydreams to work out. That it's just like the movies, that Jule really does care, and something came up, and he's so sorry and wants to spend forever and ever with Sami.
That's not realistic though. Solo wouldn't let him sink further into himself believing it, and that's honestly part of the reason Sami won't tell him.
"I just need some sleep," Sami sighs, rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple. "I went to bed too late last night."
Solo nods slowly. "I feel you on that."
The redhead releases a breath he didn't know he was holding when Solo finally takes a bite of his sandwich, granting relief from the interrogation.
He tries to find some sort of interest in the salad, lifting a couple bites to his mouth, chewing painfully slow, wincing as he swallows.
"Whenever you wanna talk about it, just know I'm here," The younger says into the awkward silence as he jams a couple of chips into his sandwich.
The tiny shred of hope he had in Solo believing his lie disappears with a cartoony poof. It's obvious he didn't fool Solo for a second. How stupid of him to think he even could've.
Even though he's eight to nine years behind the rest of the group, Solo's beyond wiser. He's nothing like the little sibling stereotypes. Never bratty or selfish, demanding or self-centered, spoiled or arrogant.
He's broken the mold and carved himself beyond expectation. A model athlete, perfect specimen, star pupil.
Maybe it's from having to prove himself in a sea of people with years of experience over him, Sami doesn't know, but Solo is head and shoulders above the rest with his wit, humor, kindness, and talent.
And unfortunately, this perfect little shit also has a sixth sense for knowing when something's amiss.
Giving credit where credit is due, his way of going about poking at the sore spot in Sami's brain is absolutely impeccable.
He's got the same determination Roman has, relentlessly prying for informing in desperate hopes to repair the issue.
There's the same warmness Jimmy has, creating a safe and welcoming environment with a relaxed tone, calm features, and inviting energy.
And hell, Sami can even see the same apatheticness Jey has, focusing more on his meal, pretending that anything else is absolutely more important.
But that's all part of his plan in attempting to crack Sami. Solo's a bit of a master bartender when it comes to handling situations that arise. His liquors are the traits he's learned, his mixers are behaviors he's adopted, and his garnishes are his own unique twist that makes his perfect theoretical cocktails impossible to deny.
They're always perfectly balanced and criminally tempting, but Sami knows he can't take a sip. If he gives in once, just once, he'll drink the entire thing and spill his guts five seconds later.
"I appreciate that," Sami pokes at a couple of black olives with his fork, ignoring the bait.
Solo's disappointment is hardly noticeable as he silently nods and continues eating. There's an unusual cloud of tension hanging over their table now. Sami can't stand tension.
He's always been a people pleaser, striving to make everyone as content as possible. To him, tension is the first sign that he's failing. Tension is the foundation of ruining relationships, and left unchecked, it can tear the entire bond down.
"Thanks for coming here," He says, sharpening his tone into something chipper, decorating his face with a smile. "I know you're not the biggest Panera fan."
Solo waves him off. "It's never a problem, Sami," He uses a chip to scoop a chunk of fallen avocado off his plate. "I honestly kinda like it now."
"Really?"
The younger hums an uh-huh as he chews, holding a hand in front of his mouth as he responds. "We all do--well, almost all of us," His brown eyes roll at the thought of the younger twin. "But Jimmy won't admit it 'cause of Jey."
The revelation that Sami's preference is no longer imposing on everyone fills him with relief. He wishes they'd all speak up about it more, maybe push Jey's attitude into a trashcan and out onto the street for collection, but he gets why they wouldn't. Roman and Solo wish to avoid the arguments at all cost, and Jimmy wouldn't transgress on the unspoken twin alliance.
"I'm just glad everyone who tries to enjoy it actually does," Sami's smile turns genuine, with the remaining tension dispersing into the air when Solo replicates it
"Perfect way to word that," Solo compliments, punctuating with a bite of his sandwich.
●●●
Jey thinks he's stable. At least somewhat, to the point where he grabs his phone off the carpet with intentions to check his messages.
Kathy gave him some confidence. He's not sure what kind yet. Maybe just enough to look at them, or enough to stay calm if there's any from Miza, perhaps enough to stay calm when he remembers Miza is Sami, and hopefully enough to even respond and take the same leap of faith she did.
It seems so easy, but his stomach flops around the moment his thumb grazes the power button.
The idea of putting the phone right back down crosses his mind, but he's gotten too far to just turn back now. It took him at least thirty minutes to just touch it after he got back to his room and showered, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at it in complete silence.
The burst of confidence he has is starting to dwindle, and he needs to capitalize on it now while it's still with him. With a wince, he presses down, watching the screen light up.
At first, he distracts himself with analyzing the screen, scanning for any sort of damage he may have caused during his fit last night. He's not exactly sure how his phone managed to get out completely unscathed. Maybe it's the world's apology for tearing his life into pieces. A sort of "Sorry you fell so hard for your sworn enemy and just want to shrivel up and die, but at least your phone isn't broken!"
But he doesn't even feel any excitement about it, not when his perfectly in tact screen gives him a clear view of a MeetMe notification. It's Sami, no doubt, probably texting more last night after having his heart broken by Jey's silence.
It absolutely drains every ounce of faith he has in himself, only assured in the fact he doesn't think he can look at them, stay calm, or respond. Honestly, he's not even sure if he can breathe right now--is he even trying?
The screen goes dark as Jey closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths, reliving his conversation with Kathy in hopes of recharge his bravery battery.
It works, but not in a way he can rely on forever. He knows himself, he knows that the moment he hits the mental block of "I can't do this", there's no changing it. So if he wants to do this, he needs to do it fast and he needs to do it now.
Before he has a chance to stop himself, he opens his eyes and sucks in a breath, holding it as he clicks in his passcode, his MeetMe chat with Sami pops up immediately, the last thing he used his phone for.
The new messages blend in with the few Jey read last night, composed of the same guilt and regret.
Miza: I'm sorry, Jule
Miza: I can't sleep
Miza: I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn't have even asked to. It was so fucking stupid. I'm so fucking sorry.
Miza: I won't text you anymore, I promise. I just want to apologize again because it's eating me alive.
Miza: I'll never forgive myself for losing you
The tears find his eyes before he can even register what he's reading. It hurts him beyond words to see Miza like this. It hurts worse knowing he's the cause.
Miza didn't lose him. He would have no way of knowing Jey is still devastatingly into him, so much so that it's destroying him mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Miza did nothing wrong. Well, aside from being Sami Zayn. As much as he'd love to blame the reason they fell apart on that fact, he was truly the deciding factor.
That's what Kathy was telling him. Her life was shitty, she was always crying and lonely. But at the end of the day, only she could change that.
And she did. She's no longer crying or scared. She's at peace with her past and eager for her future, and she wants the same for Jey.
All he has to do is send a fucking text.
It should be easy. He's sent a thousand to Miza over these five days. But that's the thing, he sent those to Miza. He'll be sending this one to Sami. One message that's more than just words on a screen. It's a message that's accepting that Sami is everything Miza was to him; his friend, his lover, his sunshine, his heart, his happiness.
Jey's not stable. He has no confidence. He can't do this.
And like last night, the phone is abandoned on the floor again while Jey scrambles onto the bed to mask heartbroken sobs into the pillows.
Notes:
This update wasn't super juicy, but the next ones will be! I have so much in store for this story!
I hope you enjoyed!
I'm feeling a bit better and hope to get more updates out ASAP!
Chapter 9: Coexist
Summary:
When Jey and Sami's anger becomes physical, it pushes the rest of the group over the edge, forcing the concept of coexistence onto them. However, that simple idea becomes painfully complex when Sami learns the truth about Jule.
Notes:
Hello! I was so so so so SO excited to write this chapter and I got REALLY carried away. It's a little over 8k words...
Please get yourself a drink and a snack, get nice and cozy, and I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Whatever amount of sleep Jey could manage last night feels like thirty minutes and has left him more exhausted than before.
He's just been going through the motions ever since yesterday afternoon. Once he pulled himself off the mattress and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, he stared in the mirror and made a promise. A promise he'd bury every emotion so deep he couldn't find them again if he tried.
And that's what he did. He drained everything from himself; every ounce of joy, sadness, anger, love, everything, all gone. Good or bad, they all had to go. If one could be found, they all could.
It worked somewhat. He's practically brain dead, but more in a walking zombie kind of way. His numbness has grown to concern those around him. And that's where it didn't work, all the emotions he buried seemed to just find their way to his family.
"Hey," Jimmy's voice is soft and warm, his calloused hand gently shaking Jey's shoulder.
Jimmy never wakes him like this, evidently from the bruise still staining his hip from Sunday. It's clear Jimmy's still worried from last night, when he practically spent every free second trying to pick the padlock over Jey's mind.
"Go 'way," Jey slurs.
"Come on, come get something to eat," Jimmy frowns.
Jey hums in disagreement. Usually, it frustrates his twin, who's spent almost every morning of their thirty-seven years together trying to coerce Jey out of bed. But today, it's different. Today, he knows something is still wrong with Jey, and it's absolutely eating him alive.
"C'mon," Jimmy mumbles as he sinks onto the bed, leaning closer to Jey as he shakes his shoulder again.
He's no longer talking about getting up or having a bite to eat, and the anxiety lacing his voice is almost enough to bring Jey's emotions out of the dark. And if anyone could possibly break them out of that void, it's Jimmy.
"Jey, I'll fix it," The older whispers, dyed red strands tickling Jey's cheeks. "I promise."
He can't stand this. The only thing worse than feeling those awful emotions is the knowledge that everyone he loves is feeling them in his place.
"Jimmy," He peels open his eyes. "There's nothin' to fix."
"There is."
"I'm just tired."
"That's what everyone says when they're lyin'," Jimmy's brown eyes narrow, distress barely buried. "I say that when I'm lyin'."
"I'm fine," Jey groans. "I swear."
"You're not," Jimmy mocks before dropping down onto the opposite end of the pillow. "C'mon, Jey. I can't stand seein' you like this."
And Jey can't stand seeing Jimmy like this. It's just another problem in his life that he can easily fix if he just communicates.
Jey's mouth opens unwillingly, one word away from the dam breaking and everything spilling out.
It's not easy to reel it all back in, especially when his older brother is lying beside him, warm and protective and inviting. Jimmy's always helped to fix his problems, if not completely repaired them himself. There's no reason to believe this time would be any different.
Right here, right now, secluded and safe with his twin, Jey could relieve himself of the burden on his brain and the weight on his chest. Jimmy would hold him when he'd inevitably begin to cry, wipe away the tears between promises that things will get better.
And things will always get better with Jimmy by his side.
"I..." Jey's throat dries, trailing off the vowel, ending his sentence before it can begin.
Because deep down, there's a part of him that's horrified of Jimmy finding out. It kicks him while he's down, twists a tale that Jimmy would scramble off the bed when Jey admits he's been talking with a man. That Jimmy would shake his head in disgust and spit promises of the family completely disowning him. That the locker room would turn against him in fear that he'd hit on them next.
Jimmy would never fucking do that to him. He wouldn't. But his mind won't release him from those chains, so his mouth won't release the unspoken story.
"You what?" Jimmy says softly.
Jey already started something. He can't just brush it off now, Jimmy would lock them both in this room until he either opens up or they die of starvation. He needs to finish it. But there's absolutely no chance he's ready to share this with Jimmy, regardless of how overencumbered he is with emotion.
"I..." Jey begins again. "I think I'm depressed."
It makes him feel better that he didn't tell a total lie, as he does feel completely despondent, but he feels bad knowing Jimmy won't be able to fix it like he wants.
Without the root cause, Jimmy can only repair the top layer, which will ultimately shatter from the pressure building beneath it. And when it does, Jey knows it'll shatter some part of his twin too.
"It's okay," Jimmy assures. "You got that doctor back home we can call. She'll get you onto some medicine."
Medicine, an interior fix for exterior problems. That... could actually work, support him while he works his way through this whole Sami/Miza thing. Maybe he doesn't give Jimmy enough credit for working his Older Brother Miracle Magic.
Honestly, though, he doesn't think he needs to medicate. Medicine is like a maintenance crew, it gets inside, reworks his wires, tightens his bolts and screws, oils the squeaky hinges. But his wires aren't crossed, screws aren't loose, and hinges aren't noisy.
Maybe a little, but not bad enough to call the crew over. Jey knows what his problem is. He needs a set of balls, not a bottle of pills.
"Yeah," Jey nods along anyways.
"And I'm always here whenever you need me," Jimmy promises.
Jey knows that, so he doesn't respond. Instead, he scoots toward his twin and stretches his arms around him, a silent thanks. Jimmy bridges the small gap by tugging Jey completely to him and holding him so tight he may lose circulation.
They've always been so close. In infancy, they'd climb out of their cribs and into each other's whenever they felt alone. As toddlers, they'd curl up under the same blankets and share the same pillows whenever they felt cold. As children, they'd sleep in the same bed whenever they felt scared.
Jimmy's his forever source of comfort regardless of their age. With his twin brother, there's no uncomfortable loneliness, crippling cold, debilitating fear. They've always been together, even before they can remember, even when they were just two little ova.
And they'll always be together, universally tied. Jey likes that thought a lot. He likes knowing that regardless, he always has a cosmic bond with someone other than his lovers. Other than Miza--other than Sami.
"What time is it?" Jey questions through a yawn, wondering how long he'll be able to stay in this moment, where his fears are unable to reach him.
"Noon."
"Noon?" He picks his head off Jimmy's chest with wide eyes. "Noon?"
How is it this late? He swears it wasn't even sunrise yet when he'd finally fallen asleep. Maybe five-thirty if he can recall correctly. No way he's been asleep for nearly seven hours. It felt like next to nothing. He's still entirely too exhausted to tackle the day.
"Yeah, noon," Jimmy snickers. "But thankfully, we ain't got nothin' to do today but workout. Thought I'd let you sleep in."
Ugh, god. The mere thought of moving makes his muscles throb and his bones ache. He overexerted himself running half to death yesterday. There's no chance he'll make it through a lift today between his taxed body and wrecked mind.
"We don't gotta workout, do we?"
"Yes, we do," The taller sits up, offering a couple assuring pats to Jey's shoulder. "Come on, lazy bones."
Absolutely not. Jey will actually die this time. But not before Jimmy notices his anguish and presses further, successfully cracking into him. In which case, he would probably welcome dying.
But he can't let it even get that far, and it won't, not when he knows exactly how to crack Jimmy.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Jey keeps his arms tight around Jimmy's waist, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "How 'bout we go to Whataburger instead?"
Jimmy freezes, raising an eyebrow at Jey's trying smile. "We shouldn't..."
"Come on!" Jey presses. "We're only in Texas until Saturday mornin', and tomorrow don't even count! You love the onion rings!"
"I can get those anywhere."
"Anywhere ain't as good as Whataburger."
Jimmy tips his head back and sighs, mind bouncing between right and wrong. He shouldn't give in. He's been eating so much junk lately as is, and there's rarely ever enough spare time for a good workout. But it's hard to deny his twin, who's currently tugging at his shirt chanting please, please, please under his breath.
And truth be told, he does adore the onion rings at Whataburger more than any other fast food establishment in the country. With tomorrow being Smackdown and Saturday being travel, today really is his only viable chance to get those fried circles of heaven.
"Okay, okay, okay!" Jimmy rolls his eyes, unable to hide his smile at the way Jey cheers in excitement. "Just this once!"
"Just this once," Jey parrots with a beam, knowing it's never actually a promise he'll keep. But Jimmy's always happy and he always pays, so it's realistically a victimless crime. "I'll get ready!"
It's the biggest kick into gear he's had since Tuesday, and honestly, it's nice to have a worthy distraction from anything Sami Zayn related.
"You can slow down, man," Jimmy laughs. "Take your time, we could get the whole group together for lunch."
Whole group. That used to make Jey excited. There was nothing better than getting together with his brothers for quick meals or late night gas station runs. Even work meetings were exhilarating. It didn't matter what they were doing, fun or boring, because as long as they were together, the smile never left his face.
Until Sami came along. A dark cloud raining on his parade. He never likes hearing "whole group" anymore, because everyone else now classifies Sami into that category. He's not part of the group. He never was, and he never will be as long as Jey's breathing.
"No," Jey says just a little too fast, enough for the light in Jimmy's eyes to flicker. He clears his throat and forces out his correction. "How about just us?"
He's not nearly as slick as he hopes, Jimmy clocking him within a second. "This is about Sami, ain't it?"
God, just his name alone makes Jey want to scream. Or cry. Or punch a hole into the nearest wall. Or maybe everything all at once. Maybe he should just forgo lunch altogether and avoid hearing his name or seeing his face.
He hasn't even looked at Sami since Tuesday night, and he plans to keep it that way forever. The less he looks, the sooner he'll forget. And he wants to forget everything. From the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles to the damn smile itself.
Jey's a firm believer in the thought that an angel loses it's wings every time Sami smiles. Sharing that belief earned him a fist to the bicep from Jimmy a month ago, so he's reluctantly been quieter about it.
But Jimmy can't know that these feelings toward Sami are far beyond his usual hatred. He's disgusted, heartbroken, bitter, hostile, and every synonym in between.
So Jey tries to put on his best performance with wide innocent eyes. "Hell nah," He lies. "I honestly forgot about him."
"You scowled when I said his name."
"Did I?"
"Quit pretending," Jimmy rolls his eyes, giving in. "I won't text any of 'em."
Jey can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, continuing to rush around the room, shaping his appearance into something remotely acceptable for the public eye. He's done in record time, praying to absolutely anything above that his hurry wasn't in vain, that Sami and Solo aren't back from media early enough to crash their lunch.
He tacks on a mental apology to his little brother on their way out the door, promising himself and the god listening that he'd normally love for Solo to be there.
"You'll eat something, right?" Jimmy turns to Jey as the elevator doors close. "You didn't eat yesterday, and you barely ate the pizza on Tuesday."
"I will, I will," Jey defends. "I just haven't been hungry."
"I know," Jimmy's voice is gentle. "But eating might make you feel better."
"You know I can't resist those onion rings any more than you can," Jey bumps his shoulder into Jimmy's, unlocking a smile from within the worry etched into his features.
His brother sighs. "You know we're gonna have to work out so much to--"
"No," Jey groans out the vowel. "Don't ruin this."
The elevator pauses at the ground floor, the mechanisms taking a moment to lock into place. Jimmy continues. "I'm just sayin' that--"
Jey cannot sit here and listen to Jimmy ramble about their poor eating habits and slacking exercise regime. Working out reminds him too much of Sami, thanks to his own idiotic idea of using exercise to forget. And it stings to know it didn't even work in eradicating Sami. The Canadian is a far more resilient parasite than he once believed.
The younger rushes to the opening doors, spreading himself over the gap like a barricade. "I swear to god I'll turn this elevator around."
Jimmy giggles, pressing a hand to Jey's chest and applying just enough pressure to pop him out from the exit like a puzzle piece. "You're so stupid."
This is more like it. Back to just him and Jimmy in their own special world, laughing like idiots over the simplest of jokes, nothing else nearly as important as each other.
He doesn't have to think about anything other than his brother, who's directing him through chuckles as he refuses to turn back around and walk forward. From this angle, he can add on more lame jokes and get a better view of Jimmy's reactions.
It's the distraction he's needed so terribly, to have his full undivided attention on getting a delicious meal with his--
"Hey, twins."
Jey's shoes squeak as he abruptly stops, scuffing the linoleum. His smile is gone before he can blink, heart stabbing him with every rapid beat, stomach dropping to the core of the Earth.
Why is he here? Why is he back? Why didn't that stupid deity listen to his prayers and wipe that fucker off the face of the planet?
"Jey," Jimmy mutters under his breath, both a warning to behave and a cautious question of what's going on his mind.
"I was just about to text y'all!" Roman chirps, footsteps barely audible over the ringing in Jey's ears.
His brother does his best to fix his expression, his face is the only visible one to represent the pair. Jey doesn't even need to turn around to tell Roman's already picked up on Jey's aura of resentment. He can tell by the change in his walking pattern alone.
"We were thinking about going for lunch," Jimmy informs through a strained smile, eyes nervously bouncing between the group and Jey.
"Good idea," Solo nods. "We're starving."
We're. As in he and Sami. Probably just returning from media.
Jey's skin feels like it's crawling with spiders. Why is he claustrophobic in an open hallway? He wants to scream until his throat bleeds, run until his bones show, peel every layer of skin down to his twitching muscles, and maybe then he'll feel some sort of relief.
Once Jimmy's gaze returns to Jey, it doesn't move. He's pleading through their eye contact, spilling a thousand words over a silent few seconds. Jey won't break contact, listening to his brother with unwavering narrowed eyes, ignoring the presence of his cousin now beside him.
"What's going on?" Sami questions, approaching the trio with Solo in tow.
Unwillingly, his teeth clench, upper lip twitching, the grating voice enough to ignite his hot head. He's always had a much shorter fuse than the rest of his family, but it's practically nonexistent around Sami. Nobody ever gets to him like the redhead does. One glance, one word, one mention--it's all it takes for Jey to become agitated.
Bless his brother for trying to avoid conflict, still choosing to communicate silently even though he's unraveling by the millisecond. By the time Solo and Sami make it over, just out of Jey's peripheral--thank god--it's abundantly clear what's awry.
"Should I call an Uber for four or five people?" Sami tests. "I'm still unsure how long his temper tantrums normally last."
Roman slides his hand to Jey's back, hoping to ground him as mumbles softly. "Don't let him get to you."
It's too late for that. Sami's already gotten to him. He got to him the moment he walked into the locker room, pretending to be part of the family. He got to him the moment he took on the title of Honorary Uce. He got to him the moment he charmed the family into liking him.
But nothing truly gets to him more than how he charmed Jey into liking him too.
Through Miza, Sami got to Jey in his most vulnerable of states. He robbed him of his happiness and his heart.
God, it still sounds so ridiculous of him to even mention the name Miza. Miza is Sami, Sami is Miza. It's all the same no matter how he twists it and he can't fucking stand it anymore.
Jey growls. "Call for four and a hearse."
"Is that a threat?" Sami hisses.
"It's a fuckin' promise."
"Alright, alright!" Roman pulls away from Jey, seemingly to catch Sami on his collision course to the younger Uso. "No more!"
Jey can't really tell though. He doesn't want to look at Sami, he doesn't want to recall what he looks like before he beats his mug in. That way, it'll be easier when his mind flashes back to his time with Miza, make the tough pill a tad easier to swallow without Sami's face haunting the memories.
"He just said he wants to kill me!" Sami scoffs.
"That's nothing new," Jey bites.
"You're insane, Jey!"
"And you're worthless!"
"Stop!" Roman scolds, voice strained as he holds Sami back. "Both of you!"
"I'm worthless?" Sami thrashes in Roman's arms. "I've done so much for this family!"
Jey's chest burns, it aches, it hurts. He feels like he's having a coronary, or his lungs are collapsing, or his ribs are systematically breaking with each word out of Sami's mouth.
"It ain't your family! It's never been, and it never will be!" Jey's eyes squeeze shut as the world starts to spin around him, words pouring from his mouth. "You're the failure of your own family and now you tryna weasel into mine!? And what!? Turn 'em all against me!?"
"Maybe they were just looking for a reason!"
Jey stills for a second, everything down to his brain and his breathing. All he can hear now is a constant ring, droning on like a crow, as he opens his eyes into near darkness aside from splotches of phosphenes.
Everything's completely off feel. The way he spins on his heel and lunges, knocking into Roman and freeing Sami from his clutch. He pounces, falling to the ground on top of Sami, one hand fisting his shirt while the other relentlessly beats into him.
He's not entirely sure where he's connecting, but it doesn't matter, the cathartic release of hitting Sami is enough for him.
Seeing red means seeing nothing, a blessing and a curse. Sure, he gets to clock Sami like he's always wanted to without having to feel nauseous over his face. Though, it would be nice to see Sami's range of motion, because in just one second, Sami's managed to flip them around.
Jey puts his forearms in front of his face, doing his best to blindly protect himself. It helps somewhat, but Sami works around him in the short time before he's yanked off. One punch to the curve of his jaw sends a burst of hot pain through his face.
"Get off him!" Jimmy cries out, tearing the Canadian away from Jey, curling around his brother.
He can't help but protect him. Regardless of what it looks, he's not defending Jey's actions, because realistically he's a fucking idiot who can't close his mouth sometimes. But so Sami. And Sami isn't his baby brother.
"Enough!" Roman snaps, looking between the pair, Sami now wrapped in Solo's arms, Jey in Jimmy's. "What the hell is wrong with you two!?"
Sami and Jey have always had a ridiculous amount of pent-up anger toward one another, but it's never devolved into a fist fight.
Roman takes a deep breath, looking around in worry that hotel security will come running around the corner. They were lucky enough not to have the fight seen by anyone, and Roman hopes the luck spills into not being escorted out due to the idiocracy of the two children on the ground.
When the coast seems clear, he shifts focus on trying to figure out what went astray. Credit where credit is due, Sami's inital comments weren't anything out of the ordinary. Rude as hell? Yes. Taunting? Definitely. But it's nothing Jey hasn't heard before--aside from the final one, which seemed to set Jey off.
And truthfully, they both seem wildly more on edge than normal. Jey didn't even have the respect to look Sami in the eyes when he insulted him, and Sami couldn't understand what the hell stop means.
"You need therapy," Sami spits.
"Shut up!" Roman says through his teeth.
Jey ignores the pain in his jaw as he attempts to respond. "You need to--"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Just stop, both of you," Jimmy begs as he scans his twin's face for damage. "Please just stop."
"We need duct tape," Solo grunts, giving warning eyes to Sami, who begrudgingly closes his mouth.
The more he blinks, the more Jimmy comes into focus. His heart still pounds against his ribs like a caged animal, the ache growing stronger at the worried frustration written across the older's features.
"Everyone's exhausted of this," Roman begins after taking a moment to level his breathing. "It's gotten too far this time."
Jey's too fired up still. He's antsy over Roman's slow, stern reprimanding. Normally, he'd be willing to push his luck and test Sami's restraint. But he can't bring himself to do it.
Partially because he's not sure his jaw wouldn't snap in half the second he opens his mouth again. But mostly because he'd sacrifice the peace that his family is trying so hard to protect, and he doesn't want any more collateral to the clusterfuck he's got going on right now.
It pisses him off that he got so upset in the first place. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let any emotion out, that if one got out, they all could. And sure as shit, that's exactly what happened.
It's obvious that Jimmy could be the one to break into the vault and snag a shred of joy out. And Jey was okay with that. It's hard to be deadened when Jimmy's around.
But his mistake was thinking that only Jimmy could bring his emotions out from the dark. Because who else could, right?
Oh, how quick Jey forgets. How quick he forgets that the only other viable key to the mental safe was Miza. How Miza isn't just behind a screen anymore. How Miza is the man five feet away from him that he can't bare to look at.
"You're both goin' to clean up, shut your mouths, and learn how to coexist," Roman orders. "We're all going to lunch."
Jey huffs, shaking himself free of Jimmy as he stands. "Have fun."
"This ain't a choice you get to make."
"Come on," Jimmy says, reaching out to loosely capture Jey's wrist. "Please?"
He's still seething, barely containing it enough for the sake of everyone else. Roman's efforts are admirable, but if he has to spend another second with Sami in close proximity, he may end up in federal prison by nightfall.
All he needs is a little time. For what, he's not sure. Maybe he'll cry, maybe he'll bash his face into the nearest wall, maybe he'll write a resignation letter and hand deliver it to Hunter, maybe he'll look on Reddit and see if anyone else has had the misfortune of accidentally falling for their most loathed coworker via online chat. Worth a shot, right?
Jimmy picks up on the general plea, nodding knowingly as he releases his grip. Jey thanks him silently as he races off toward the stairs, deeming the elevators too long of a wait.
"Jimmy," Solo frowns once the older Uso turns back to the discouraged group. "I thought you were on our side?"
"I am," Jimmy swears.
It's hard for him not to give into Jey. So much so that it's been brought up in every conversation he's had with Roman and Solo about Sami and Jey's behavior. They all agreed to not let anything slide anymore, to put their foot down with unwavering control.
"Then what happened?" Roman narrows his eyes.
"He's just--" His gaze flashes toward the direction Jey went. "He's not himself right now--"
"Clearly," Sami deadpans, earning a smack from Solo.
"--and he just needs some time to calm down."
Jimmy doesn't want to air the state of Jey's mental status out to everyone. His brother told him in complete confidence, and he'll go to lengths to keep it on lockdown. But maybe if he just alludes to a discrepancy in Jey's normal behavior, his family will give him the same leniency.
Roman sighs. "We all need to calm down honestly," He looks across the group. "We're still going to eat. I'm movin' it to an early dinner so everyone can chill the fuck out. Understood?"
The question hangs in the tense air, a silence following as three sets of eyes land on Sami. It's clear it wasn't asked to the entire group, targeted at the only aggressor still in the area.
"Understood," Sami grunts.
"And you," Roman points to Jimmy. "Make sure Jey understands it too."
"I will."
"Okay," The leader stresses, running his hand down his face. "I'm going to workout or somethin', I dunno."
"I'll come with you," Solo pops up, releasing Sami with a glare, thankful for any excuse to get the fuck away from everything.
Sami doesn't pick himself up off the floor just yet, the adrenaline wearing off in time to remind him of the warmth tickling his nose. He reaches up, touching a sore spot on his bridge, wincing as he's greeted with pain and blood.
"I'll clean you up," Jimmy offers, almost a nervous question, extending his hand out.
The redhead gladly takes it, making his appreciation known as they walk toward the elevator. Sami's never had a problem with Jimmy, even when his twin is a goddamn lunatic who busts his face open.
Truthfully, he never had an issue with Jey either, not until the younger consistently started problems with him over absolutely nothing. Sami tried over and over to earn Jey's trust, but his efforts were in vain every time, so he gave up and started dishing it right back out to Jey.
Maybe the wrong move. Definitely the immature move. But after being berated daily, he's grown to bend his morals around for Jey Uso in particular.
Though, he can't help but feel bad in the wake of the fight. Not bad for Jey--fuck that guy honestly--but bad for his family for having to witness it; his brother, his cousin, his twin. Especially since Jimmy remains so cordial and warm, still inviting him into his room and cleaning his wounds with the utmost precision.
"I'm sorry," Jimmy breaks the silence as he sifts through the medical kit.
Sami shakes his head, confused. "Why? I'm the one who should be sorry, Jimmy."
The Samoan looks up. "Sami--"
"I crossed the line. I may..." He pauses, biting back the select words he'd love to add for the sake of extinguishing the potientally burning bridge. "...dislike him. But he's your brother, and what I did and said wasn't right."
"He ain't a saint either," Jimmy assures. "Both of y'all were in the wrong," He sprays a piece of gauze with antiseptic. "Y'all just need to learn to coexist like Roman said."
"Right," Sami grits out as Jimmy cleans his cut, mindlessly pulling away from the sting.
"Sorry, sorry," The younger says in a laugh. "Almost done."
"It's alright. I've broken bones, I don't know why I'm bitching about this."
It makes Sami's happy to hear Jimmy laugh at his stupid jokes and inconsistent pain tolerance. He can't help but smile along and absorb the moment, hoping the peace never ends.
Ever since Tuesday, when Jule robbed him of his heart without a single warning, he's been trying to pick up the pieces of himself strewn along the wreckage. For the first time in his life, he feels completely lost. He almost doesn't know who he is without Jule. It's fucking ridiculous to even think, but a part of him knows it's true.
It was only four days. Saturday to Tuesday. But those four days changed the trajectory of his life. He fell head over heels for a man he's never even seen or heard. It's his own dumb stupidity. Of course it wasn't going to work out. It's some guy he met on a sleazy chatroom site.
But Jule wasn't just some guy to Sami. Jule was the reason he would rush to bed. The reason he'd wake up. The reason he couldn't stop checking his phone. The reason he walked around with his head held high.
Because he knew somewhere in the world, Jule was doing the same. That no matter how awful Sami's day went, he could always come back to their chat, and Jule would wrap him so tight with radiant affection until he was euphoric.
And Sami would do the same for him. He adored doing the same for him. It made his days, made his nights, made his life when he could give Jule the same endearment. He would've died for Jule. God, he would've lived for Jule.
He hasn't found much solace since Jule left him. All the media with Solo has been some sort of healthy distraction, but the moment he's alone, the sadness just consumes him.
"You with me, Sami?"
Sami jolts out of his thoughts, met with worried eyes. "Y-Yeah, I'm alright."
Jimmy doesn't seem convinced. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"That was too quick of an answer."
"I promise," Sami forces a smile. "Just tired."
"For how much you hate each other," Jimmy gives a couple more swipes to Sami's nose. "You and Jey have a lot in common."
"Is that so?" The redhead snorts.
"Y'all both love lyin' to me," He sighs, tossing the gauze into the trash. "And sayin' you're just tired."
Whatever Jey's hiding doesn't worry Sami in the slightest. He can feel like absolute shit for the rest of his miserable life for all Sami cares. But their pitiful, cheap replies clearly bother Jimmy, a people pleaser, who wants nothing more than to see them flourish.
"I've been in a rough patch," Sami admits. "I was floating on cloud nine...and now I'm on a collision course to hell."
"Sami," Jimmy deflates, throwing his arms around the paler. "What happened?"
It's stupid how such a simple act of love chokes him up. He's been scrambling away from his feelings, trying to outrun them, too scared, too unprepared, too vunerable to feel them alone. But Jimmy's hug, the grounding embrace, it's tangible protection. A sword and shield in his battle. A candle in his darkness. A wave in his stagnant sea.
"I lost someone," Sami says into Jimmy's shoulder, squeezing him back, too emotional to care about crushing his ribs.
The Uso doesn't seem to mind either, willing to let Sami snap him in half if it means granting him a shred of comfort. "I'm so sorry, Sami."
Sami doesn't want to cry, but a sob rips its way up his throat anyway, the noise barely hidden by the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. He's beyond embarrassed. They were just having a great time two minutes ago, carefree and laughing. Now poor Jimmy is comforting him through an impromptu breakdown, probably annoyed and inconvenienced.
"It's stupid," He pulls away fast, wiping his tears. "I shouldn't cry, it's stupid, I'm sorry--"
"Dude, stop," Jimmy keeps him close. "You're allowed to be fuckin' sad."
A new wave of tears flood his eyes, born of pure relief and gratitude. Jimmy would have no way of knowing he's doing more than just comforting a friend. He's rebuilding Sami's fractured soul, filling the hole where Sami's heart once was, correcting the skewed headspace Sami's been lost in.
"I'm sorry you lost them," He starts, gently running his fingers through copper strands. "It's gonna to hurt, you're gonna feel sad, but that ain't gon' last forever. Like...the sun is always gonna be there, regardless of how cloudy the sky is. You just gotta make it through the storm to see the sun again."
Sami's shoulders bounce as he cries, unable to downplay his emotions anymore. Jimmy's right, the rational voice that he seems to have lost. This isn't the end of the world. Jule leaving him is just another storm in life. The sun, the joys in life, they're all still there, buried behind the clouds of despair.
He's just got to wait it out, look for moments like these, promises of rays and rainbows ahead.
"Man, I really hope you ain't cryin' because of my bum ass analogy."
A strangled laugh interrupts his sobs, the noise odd enough to cause Jimmy to stiffen, muscles trembling. It doesn't take a genius to know he's failing miserably at holding back his own laughter, unsure if the noise was part of Sami's hysteria.
It only makes Sami laugh more, almost collapsing into Jimmy. With his emotions amplified to infinity, a simple jest has become the funniest thing Sami's ever heard all week.
For the first time since Tuesday, the tears running down his face don't burn. The smile on his face doesn't feel phony. The lingering sadness doesn't feel like corrosive acid eating away at whatever glimmer of joy he has left.
For the first time since Tuesday, Sami's assured in knowing things will get better.
Jimmy backs away from him, knocking his knees together and doubling over, in stitches, howling something about Sami shutting up, babbling that he's going to piss himself.
They go until they've both fallen to the floor, grabbing at their sides and complaining blissfully about the cramps. The joke wasn't even that funny honestly, maybe enough for a chuckle any other day. But it's exactly what they needed right now, a better medicine than antiseptic or physical touch. Just a minute or two of the most mind-numbing, blinding joy, where even the strongest of demons burn in that light.
"You laugh funny," Jimmy snickers, already revving himself back up.
"Stop," Sami groans through a couple giggles "My ribs hurt, shut up."
The Uso covers his face with his hands, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry," He says, voice muffled.
"We need a distraction," The older sits up, grabbing at Jimmy's shirt. "I don't think I'll make it out of this bathroom in one piece if you keep making me laugh."
Jimmy nods, peeling himself off the ground but keeping his face covered. It's evident he's still struggling to pull himself together, unable to look at Sami, knowing he'll lose whatever progress he's made in doing so.
Sami takes note, keeping his glee to just a smile to avoid any steps backward, as he aids Jimmy out of the bathroom and toward the bed. He busies himself with the television, sifting through channels for something worthy of watching at one in the afternoon on a Thursday.
"Ooh, put on Maury," Jimmy's--finally--level voice chirps behind him.
Sami's never cared for Maury. Well, he's never seen it really; aside from a couple of loud clips on his hour long social media doom scrolls.
All the arguing and fighting never does it for him. But he's not surprised that it does for Jimmy, somewhat of a nosy person who enjoys bickering from afar. He's not one to condone unsanctioned conflict, but the show's prefilmed, and it's going to happen anyway, so he might as well get immersed in the whole backstory while he's at it.
"Okay," Sami agrees mindlessly before crawling next to Jimmy and leaning back against the pillows, just happy to have the company.
That mindset stayed in the front of his mind for maybe twenty minutes. It may take him a couple years to fully admit how messy he truly is, because he became absolutely engulfed in the show by the end of the first episode.
He'll just blame it on the fact that he finds comfort in other people's lives being as fucked up as his own, if not more fucked up. It gave him something else to think about in quiet moments, something other than his four day online love affair that's left him embarrassingly broken.
But there wasn't many quiet moments, not when he and Jimmy spent every commercial break cosplaying as Holmes and Watson, trying to deduce the outcome of the storyline.
They spend three entire hours like this, just rotting in Jimmy's hotel room, ignoring their responsibilities, soaking in the daytime dramas like sponges.
They're only just starting the four o'clock episode when Jimmy's phone lights up with a call. Sami almost forgot other people exist, and he honestly wishes they didn't for another couple of hours.
As he watches Jimmy talk, undoubtedly to Roman, the awareness of how he's about to spend the rest of his night hits him like a freight train. Instead of learning who the father is, he gets to learn how to coexist.
He doesn't need this right now. Jimmy has been the first true escape he had from both Jule and Jey, and he just can't bring himself to let that go.
"Alright," Jimmy says as he ends the call. "We're goin' to eat soon."
"Can't we wait until after this episode?" Sami frowns. "I want to see if she actually cheated on him with her cousin."
"I've seen this one. She did."
"Spoiler!"
"We ain't watching it," Jimmy snags the remote and turns off the TV. "Roman said to get ready."
"I'm already ready, turn it back on," Sami reaches for the device.
Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Alright," He gives it to Sami, smiling at the way he scrambles to return to the episode. "I'll come back for you after I get Jule."
It takes a second for Sami to register what Jimmy said. The twin is just a few feet from the door when Sami comes to his senses.
"What'd you say?" He questions hesitatantly, unsure if he misheard.
He had to have misheard. Jimmy said Jey, no doubt. He doesn't even know a Jule, why would he say Jule? Sami's mind is just playing tricks on him now that he's no longer distracted. Jule has completely consumed his mind ever since they met, even in his untimely absence. This is just him still yearning for Jule, hearing his name wherever he goes, the ghost of his beloved haunting his presence.
"I'm goin' to check on Jule," He repeats, pausing and turning back toward Sami.
No, he said Jule. There's absolutely no mistaking it. His voice is clear as day, right as rain. He. Said. Jule.
Sami's not sure if he's breathing. His body won't let him even check. He can't feel anything right now, he has no control over himself. It's almost out of body, like he's beside himself, watching on as his outer shell malfunctions and crashes like an old computer.
His eyesight doubles, triples, quadruples, and he has to force himself to dial in on Jimmy for some relief from the spinning room around him. It barely works, everything's fuzzy around the edges, darkness slowly seeping in like a vignette.
While everything feels like it's falling apart for Sami, Jimmy's unaware, taking his shocked silence as general confusion.
"Jule is Jey," He clarifies as if he's helping, oblivious to the fact that Sami is actively decaying inside. "I got a million different names for him."
And god, this is quite the revelation. For all thirty-eight years of his life, Sami truly believed Hell was where bad people went when they died. Some massive fiery pit of molten rock and rotting souls. Broken voices pleading for mercy, screams from those bound to suffer forever.
But today, he learned that Hell is actually discovering he's been in a short--but serious--romantic and sexual relationship with the man he absolutely despises. No fire or rock, no pleading or screams. Just a hotel room in Houston and forcing composure when he discovers this gutting fact from the older brother of his lover-enemy.
Sami would rather the first option. Without a fucking doubt. Be damned and condemned for all of eternity in the devil's dungeon. Have all his bones systematically shattered, skin slowly peeled off, teeth ripped from his skull. Anything over this.
"J-Jule is...?"
It's like he's trying to speak another language, tongue hitting the wrong parts of his mouth, lips floppy and numb, voice wavering.
Bless Jimmy's blissful ignorance. "Jey use to go by Jules back when we started in the indies. I would call him Jule all the time," He giggles. "Still do, I guess."
Thankfully for Sami, Jimmy loves to talk. He's more than happy to fill the silence cluelessly. Unfortunately for Sami, he'll be reminiscing about one of his favorite conversation topics, his twin.
"I always like Jule more than Jules, personally, but when he switched it to Jey, it all clicked," He rambles before raising his eyebrow. "You didn't know it wasn't always Jimmy and Jey?"
Sami shakes his head as casually as possible, acting as though his insides aren't shredded, that every word from Jimmy's mouth isn't stabbing him in his gut, lungs, brain, and heart.
"It'll be a good thing to talk about when y'all coexist," He imitates Roman's voice on the last word before smiling. "I'll be back."
Oh, he's done a lot more than coexist with Jey. The mere thought of the words he typed and the responses he read make him nauseous. Jimmy may roast him over a fucking fire if he learned about all the "coexisting" they've done.
His head feels like it's pumped full of helium when he drops it into his hands, fingers gripping tight into his hair to prevent it from floating away entirely.
As much as he wishes it would detach--drift off somewhere to never be found again while he regrows a new one, hopefully with the "Forget Everything I Did With Jey Uso" update--he sadly needs the fucking thing right now.
It all starts to make sense the more he dives into it. How Jule and him always traveled the same days and ultimately flew to the same city. He just thought he was unusually lucky, some sort of apology from the world for all he's had to go through.
But clearly, the world isn't done with its favorite doormat yet. He naively thought Jule suddenly ignoring him was the lowest point, the deepest valley, the undeniable rock bottom
He must've missed the fucking email that stated rock bottom has a false floor. Did they ever make a name for it? Sami's vote is for The Depths of Despair. And it's very different than rock bottom. It's darker and colder, painfully isolating but somehow less lonely.
At rock bottom, Sami felt alone. Jule was gone, he had no rhyme or reason to his disappearance. He wasn't living, he was just existing, waiting for something to cling onto to pull himself out of it.
And he thought he had it with Jimmy and the Maury re-reruns, but he was terribly mistaken. Falling further into himself in light of new information and smashing into the concrete of the actual lowest point.
In the Depths of Despair, though, he's not alone, he's actually well aware that Jey is down here with him. And Jey is probably down here somewhere praying that Sami got the theoretical email and never fell down the trap door.
All of Jey's drastic mood changes make more sense, as he's been dealing with the same things Sami's currently feeling for two days now. And while he doesn't excuse a single thing Jey's done, he'd be wrong if he didn't say he at least understands. This feeling is draining, gutting, hollowing.
Tuesday night, when it was Jule hearing Miza's voice--it was really Jey hearing Sami. He made the retching discovery while coasting on desire, and then he crashed into reality at a hundred miles an hour.
Yesterday, Jey wouldn't even look at him-- still won't actually--face contorting in agony every time he'd open his mouth.
It bothered him a little, still reeling from his own emotions, but he didn't at all assume it was anything different than Jey's normal asshole tendencies toward him.
Why the hell would he? Sami from yesterday wouldn't believe for a goddamn second that Jey is Jule. Sami from twenty minutes ago wouldn't believe it.
Sami from right now doesn't even fully believe it. Or maybe he just won't let himself believe it. Accept the fact that he technically fucked Jey twice over text, actually flirted with him every waking second, and definitely ate, slept, and breathed for him.
The onset aggression Jey had this afternoon was more than an "I hate you." It was twisted with his own self hatred. In a sort of "I hate that I loved you" kind of way.
But did Jey actually love him? Did he actually love Jey? Does he still?
God, he's actually going to get sick this time if he humors those questions. His eyes find the red blocky numbers on the cheap alarm clock on the nightstand. Jimmy's coming back soon, he's got to pull himself together, make it through this dinner without crying or screaming or performing a lobotomy on himself with the nearest sharp object.
He's got to try to make everyone happy, coexist with Jey like they want. It'd be easier if it was still that simple. He wishes it was. He fucking envies the person he was thirty minutes ago.
But he's sure the person he was three days ago would envy him now. Finally having that meal with Jule he couldn't wait to have. How ridiculous.
"Come on, Sami!" Jimmy knocks on the door. "I'm too lazy to figure out which key is mine, open up."
This is it. Jimmy's back, with Jey this time. Did the thought of that make his stomach flutter, or is the nausea? It's has to be the latter for Sami's sanity.
He's got to face this shit for real. Get through this dinner the best he can. Maybe Jey's onto something with the whole avoiding eye contact and his existence entirely. But that's not coexisting.
He'd love to just say they've already done that, coexisted in a MeetMe chatroom with the most joyous of conversations. Even completed a little extra credit, really went above and beyond, and coexisted while jerking off to each other.
But he's almost positive that's not what Roman meant.
"Turn off Maury, I already told you what happens!"
Sami wishes it was his room. He wouldn't have to answer. He could just sit on this bed until he fuses into it.
But it's not. Jimmy's got a key and enough strength to drag his ass to Whataburger. It's be better if he didn't run from it--not that he even can--and take the time that Roman spends preaching about unity to figure out the next steps from here.
So he stands on unsteady legs, focusing all his attention on walking and breathing, seemingly impossible to do at the same time.
Only enough room in his scrambled brain for one focus at a time. His thoughts and actions unable to coexist.
Ugh, god. Sami really fucking hates that word now.
Notes:
So Jey knows about Sami...and Sami knows about Jey knowing about Sami. So now we need Jey to know about Sami knowing about Jey knowing about Sami.
If you could understand that...look forward to it next chapter ;)
Chapter 10: Right?
Summary:
After Roman's coexistence speech fails to work, Sami plans to make an exit from the faction altogether. However, he's quickly roped back in, this time with a stroke of inspiration to win Jey back.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sami feels like he's in a simulation, on autopilot, no control over himself. Which wouldn't be too bad, except the network short circuited, and now he's doomed to think about Jey Uso for every second until he can fix the fucked fuse.
But the fucked fuse is Jey Uso. And he's not sure he's equipped with the tools necessary to repair that. One wrong move and the faulty current turns into a deadly fire, taking out everything Sami's built.
It's a risk Sami may need to take because he's practically burning alive right now anyway, silently nodding along to whatever Roman's saying whilst Jey adjacent.
The twin honestly doesn't look much better, though. Refusing to look at him still, brown eyes locked on the meal he hasn't touched, disassociating in and out through the chief's spiel.
"Are either of you even listening to me?"
Sami blinks hard, body stuttering to attention, looking toward Roman. He's wide-eyed in disbelief, frustrated his breath is being wasted on two assholes who can't even get it together enough to listen to a unification speech.
"Nope," Solo pops the consonant, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms.
"Unbelievable," Roman sighs. "The only reason we're havin' this conversation is because of you two, so tell me why neither of you are listening."
Unification speech turned reprimanding lecture, fantastic. Sami's mind can barely keep up, unable to formulate a single thought that doesn't have Jey tangled in it. His eyes bounce to the Uso, frozen in time, still as a statue, and completely unhelpful as usual.
"I-I'm sorry," Sami manages, voice unlocking a subtle twitch of Jey's upper lip, signs of life. "I promise I'll do better."
It's absolutely not the response Roman wanted, evident from his head falling into his hands and the exasperated noise from his throat. The redhead cringes, eyes flickering between his irritated leader and somber enemy.
He attempts a better answer. "I promise I won't fight with him anymore."
His efforts aren't fruitful. The group still looks discouraged, Jey still looks disconnected, and Sami feels like he's fucking drowning here.
What do they want from him? What's the solution to this puzzle? The antidote to this poison? And why the hell aren't they grilling Jey the same way?
"I promise I won't get mad?" He guesses, patience and hope snapping at the roll of Roman's eyes. "Well, at least I'm fucking trying!"
The dying embers in everyone's pupils ignite at the sharpness of his tone. It's even enough to snap Jey from his trance, cold gaze traveling ahead through his furrowed brows, still not toward Sami, which somehow pisses him off even more.
"You're all looking at me for an answer when he's the one who started this shit!" Sami spits. "He despises me for no reason, insults me a-and attacks me, but I'm the one who's getting yelled at!?"
He stands abruptly, knocking into the table, tipping over his water cup, spilling Jimmy's onion rings, sending napkins to the floor. "I'm done!"
Emotion threatens to unleash. The tears he wouldn't let himself shed before dinner in the dawn of the revelation. It'd feel so good to let it all out. He wants nothing more than that right now. But he needs to get away from the younger before he does, keep any shred of joy from warming Jey's dead heart.
"You win!" He swallows it all back long enough to stare down his adversary, who still won't give him the satisfaction of even acknowledging his existence.
But he knows Jey hears him. The glassy sheen coating his eyes is growing thicker, and his chin wobbles the tighter he clenches it. The sight of it almost makes Sami want to concede, just sit back down and beg Jey to work this out with him. But why, he's not so sure.
Jey's a miserable prick, always has been and always will be. Sami would save himself so much trouble just walking away with some dignity. But he's plagued with an uncomfortable pain in his heart, and it feels like the only relief for it is that miserable prick.
Fuck.
"I-I'm done," Sami waves them off, scrambling off toward the exit, hoping to hide the sobs ripping their way up his throat, causing enough of a scene as is.
He throws his shoulder against the door to open it, hands preoccupied with covering the noises from his mouth. The cool air hits his wet cheeks, and it feels safe enough to let it all out, bawling hysterically as he rushes down the sidewalk.
Their hotel isn't far from here. If he can just get through this walk without collapsing in on himself, he'll be able to make a proper exit from this profession. His mom did always say he'd be a fabulous accountant.
But this isn't as easy as it once was, not when he's been struck with yet another punch to the gut, another realization far worse than the last; he's in love with Jey.
He wasn't over Jule, but he truthfully thought finding out Jule was Jey would be enough to kill whatever's lingering in his heart. Doing the math, it seemed reasonable. Jule wasn't real, Jey's a dick, those two cancel out, so those feelings don't exist anymore, right?
But after sitting at that table, unable to think of or look at anything that wasn't Jey for more than five seconds, it's clear those feelings are still very real. Sami's still in love with Jule. And Jule is Jey. Call him whatever name under the fucking sun but that's still the man that Sami fell for.
And that's still the man he's in love with.
The weight of awareness over the situation is unbearable, novocaine to his limbs, leaving him to collapse against the cement in a heap. He probably looks insane right now; wrinkled shirt, messy hair, on his knees sobbing into his hands in the middle of the sidewalk. If he had any sort of grasp on stability, he'd get the hell up and spare himself the embarrassment of potential witnesses to his complete mental lapse.
But he can't. Because there's nothing truly more embarrassing than realizing he's in love with the man he loathes the most.
He can make any number of apologies about this public breakdown, boast about the dangers of bottling up emotions, partner with a mental health group, and maybe in a couple years forget it ever happened. But he'll never forgive himself for developing a romantic attraction toward Jey Uso, something he's sure will haunt him until his final days.
So for now, this is fine. Nobody's really walking this side street anyway, and if they are, they're hustling by Sami fast in fear he's an unstable lunatic. And he is. Anyone who's in love with Jey Uso is.
"Sami!"
God no. How is it possible for this situation to get worse? Why are they chasing after him? Why can't they just accept his departure and coddle Jey some more?
Sami chokes back his wails, rising quick on weak knees, hoping to escape the situation before it can start. He feels so out of control though, his teeming mind trapped in a depleted shell, useless in evading capture from the figure racing after him.
"Sami, stop!"
It's Jimmy, how ironic, reaching out to wrap him up in a hug, hoping to fix the wounds like he did earlier. Sami tries to push him away, but Jimmy's grip is too tight, too warm, and he melts down to the ground again.
"I can't do this an-anymore!" Sami cries. "I'm done!"
"Jus' stop for a minute," Jimmy sinks down with him. "Breathe."
Sami forgot how to do that, in the kind of way that he thinks he'll never be able to learn it again. He is hyperventilating, though, which has to count for something. But that doesn't seem to work for Jimmy, who braces a hand against Sami's chest, heat seeping through his shirt.
"In," Jimmy whispers, inhaling slow. "And out," He releases the breath evenly.
He does this repeatedly, even when Sami's not following along right away, still frazzled and disoriented, because he can feel the heavy thump of the redhead's heart lessen with each slowing movement of his chest.
Eventually, Sami's managing actual rhythmic breaths, enough to make his head stop swirling and his stomach stop churning. Jimmy's beyond patient, in no rush to chastise or pry, just nurturing and loving, growing Sami's strength with energy and direction.
It's insane to him how different the twins are, fitting the stereotypes of good and evil so perfectly. How does that work? Sami would give his life savings to that experiment. Did Jimmy feed from the placenta of positivity in the womb while Jey had the placenta of pessimism? Is that a thing?
Maybe not. It seems nobody sees Jey for the evil bastard he is. Hell, Sami can't even say he completely does anymore now that he's in love with the fucking guy. But Jey being Jule means that the younger Uso actually does have a heart, a beautiful one, so maybe the twins aren't so different after all.
"Talk to me, Sami. What's goin' on?"
"Wh-What's going o-on is tha-a-at I'm leavi-ing."
"You ain't goin' anywhere," Jimmy assures. "You're family."
It's relieving somewhat, but not really, it'll just be more fuel to the fire when the truth comes out. "I'm no-ot want-ted here."
"Yes, you are."
"Just st-stop."
"Sami, one bad moment don't define you," Jimmy fights for eye contact. "You deserve your place here more than anyone."
One bad moment? This is more than one bad moment. This is one bad everything. He can't just bounce back from romancing the right-hand man. This bullet hole isn't going to be fixed with Jimmy's bandaids.
"No--"
"Yes," Jimmy interuppts. "You earned your spot in this family whether you believe it or not. You're family, and family don't give up on each other."
That's sweet and all--maybe it'd even work under different circumstances. But Sami's not family. He's a slim, pale Syrian-Canadian in a sea of jacked Samoan demigods. The textbook definition of a red-headed step-child. He doesn't fit in. He never will. Jimmy's kindness is admirable, but this will never work. Especially not with the secret relationship he had with Jey.
"People go through ups and downs. That's just life, uce. But you can't give up on someone when y'all goin' through it--that's when y'all need to be together."
Sami takes a deeper breath, trying to fill his popped lungs before he suffoactes again. All of a sudden, Jimmy's monologue feels too personal, too targeted, too direct. As if he's aware of Sami's attraction toward his little brother, which is a truly horrifying thought on so many levels. Thankfully, he's not--his speech spoken to rally Sami back into the family.
However, with Sami's mind stained with Jey Uso, the words of support twist into a hopeful reform for the state of their ruined relationship. Maybe Jimmy's right. Maybe giving up isn't the answer. Maybe they both know deep down inside that they were happiest together, and their true identities shouldn't change that.
"It ain't easy, but a new day will come, just like I was sayin' earlier," Jimmy concludes. "I promise."
Sami drags the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping his lashes free of the heavy droplets. "I-I'm sorry f-for ruinin-ng dinner."
"You didn't ruin anythin'," The younger shakes his head. "Nobody was really eatin' anyway."
"Are the-ey mad?"
"Don't worry 'bout none of that."
Jimmy keeps an arm around Sami's ribs as he rises, easing them both upward. He straightens out the fabric of Sami's shirt and flattens his messy hair, copper strands flying out from his bun.
"Are we going back?" Sami questions, swallowing back his hiccups, trying to regain some composure.
"Nah," Jimmy looks down the road. "Everyone needs some time to just chill out. They're cleanin' up and goin' back to the hotel after."
Cleaning up. Cleaning up the mess that Sami made when he threw his fit. It's mortifying to think about honestly. Solo muttering curses under his breath as he wipes up spilled refreshments, Roman having to make an apology to the workers of the establishment who had to witness their fight. The catalyst probably continuing to sit and do nothing.
"Relax," The Uso reads his mind. "Nobody's mad."
"I feel a-awful."
"Don't," Jimmy starts walking, nudging Sami along with him. "Go to your room, take a shower, watch Maury, and get some sleep 'fore tomorrow."
That sounds good. Rinse off the day and drift off to the sound of marital disputes. Maybe he'll even wake up and realize this was all just a tragic nightmare. That Jule is actually not Jey Uso, that they're not over, and he has been texting him this whole time begging for him to finally respond.
But that's ridiculously hopeful, even for an optimist like Sami. This horror show is real, Jule is Jey, they're broken up, and he hasn't received a text since Tuesday evening.
Maybe it doesn't have to stay a trainwreck forever, though. The impossible is possible. Sami wasn't a believer until Jimmy dug deep and retrieved a shard of hope from within his fractured soul, something he couldn't find on his own.
It could be just enough to mend their broken hearts, or at the very least, get them on the right track again. Or it could earn him a plot in a graveyard and a feature on Dateline, but he'd never forgive himself if he didn't try to win back the thing that made his life the brightest.
"What's Jey's hotel room?" Sami asks after a minute.
Jimmy raises his eyebrow, feeding a festering pit of embarrassment in Sami's gut. "I don't think that's a good idea, Sami."
"We need to talk."
"You really think it'll be that easy?" Jimmy questions.
"It's important," Sami urges. "You said it yourself, Jimmy. You can't give up on someone when times are tough, you need to work it out together."
"Yeah, but..." He trails off with a sigh. "After this afternoon, I don't trust y'all bein' alone in the same room."
Sami becomes too aware of his bruised nose, the subtle ache turning into a sharp throb from the attention. Showing up at Jey's door could be a mistake. He could walk away with more than a busted bridge. Jey may need to actually call for that hearse. But it's a risk he's willing to take.
"Please?"
The silence that follows is seemingly his answer, Jimmy trying to prevent liability for whatever his twin will do in close proximity with the redhead. It doesn't bother Sami as much, already racking his brain for who to ask next, someone who isn't aware of the mounting tension and will happily hand over the room number without question.
They're walking into the lobby five minutes later, Sami deep into drafting a text message to Kofi Kingston in his head when Jimmy finally responds.
"Four twenty-seven."
It comes during a mental debate over whether a period or exclamation point is more acceptable. "Huh?"
"Jey's room," Jimmy says. "It's room four twenty-seven."
Sami's not sure when exactly he had the change of heart, but he's elated nonetheless, trashing the message and hiding his joy behind a small smile. "Thank you."
"No problem," He nods slowly, interrupted by a sharp inhale, a sign regret is setting in. "But if in two hours I hear that y'all got kicked out--"
"I promise we won't."
"Pinkie swear," Jimmy extends out his finger as they pause by the elevator.
Sami hooks them. "Pinkie swear."
Jimmy's anxiety isn't completely satisfied, exhaling too hard when they release, still regretting opening his mouth about Jey's room the entire ride. He even hesitates when the elevator doors open at his floor, eyeing Sami with concern, wondering if he'll see him next behind bars or in a morgue.
All Sami can do is wordlessly assure him, wiggling his pinkie as the doors shut, offering a smile. It falls from his face the moment Jimmy's out of view. Because truthfully, Sami's not positive this will go swimmingly either. He promised to control himself, but Jey is a loose canon, just begging for a chance to explode, and Sami's presence is enough of a reason.
He's really playing with fire here. Everyone knows it. He wouldn't be surprised if Jimmy's scrambling to warn the others, maybe calling the hospital to see if they take reservations. But none of that will deter him. Not until he can say he at least tried to earn back his Jule, regardless of who it really is.
Standing at Jey's door like a lost puppy or crazed stalker is really the ridiculous thing. He wouldn't be caught dead waiting on Jey Uso like this before today. It would honestly make him laugh when he'd see that fans spent their hard earned money and waste their precious time for a glimpse of the motherfucker. But here he is, doing just that.
He tries to play it cool, lean against the wall and scroll through his phone like he's got better things to do. It's truly pitiful how quick he looks up when he hears footsteps approaching, always forcing a smile to the poor soul who meets his eyes.
But the real icing on the cake for this embarrassing act is when he's caught by Solo, voice utterly confused and a tad irritated.
"Sami?"
It makes Sami regret everything for a couple seconds, almost shooting a prayer to the gods above to be taken right then and there and avoid this whole conversation.
"Solo, hey!" He masks his shame with faux delight. "I wanted to apologize about dinner, I'm just so--"
"Why are you at Jey's door?"
Okay--right, nothing gets by Solo. The blond cocks his head and squints his eyes, waiting for a response Sami can't formulate.
"Are you tryna start another fight?"
"No," Sami answers quickly, easily, honestly. "I'm really not, I just want to talk this out."
"That's what we tried to do at dinner."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I got overwhelmed and frustrated a-and--" He sighs. "Jimmy and I spoke and I feel like I can try to get back on the right track with Jey."
"Y'all were never on the right track."
"Well, I--"
"Look, Sami, he ain't comin' up here for another hour or so," Solo shakes his head. "And this ain't a good idea anyway, so you should just go back to your room."
Shit! Sami's desperate, but not stand here like a sitting duck for sixty plus minutes desperate. He's itching, jittery, anxious. He needs to do this now. "Where is he?"
"Yeah, right," Solo scoffs. "Go back to your room and get some rest. We can try again tomorrow."
"Solo--"
"Goodnight, Sami," He calls over his shoulder even though it's just five at night, walking off with no intent to continue humoring Sami.
The day can't end like this. Sami won't make it another night trapped in the purgatory of his mind. He could come back to this door every half hour until Jey returns, but that's too long of a wait. Too taxing on his crashing mind. Jey's in this hotel somewhere, evident from Solo returning, and Sami's not going to waste another second without him.
As unbelievable as it is, some part of Jey makes him indescribably happy. A part he's only sure exists because he witnessed it online. And maybe somewhere in his fucked up head, Jey feels the same.
So Sami could spend the hour pacing himself into the ground, or he could potientally convince Jey into agreeing they want each other--need each other--and spend the hour in absolution.
There's not a lot of places in the hotel Jey would spend an hour in. Cell phones make the business center obsolete. The swimming pool requires a bathing suit that Jey would have returned to his room for. Shitty hotel coffee from the breakfast nook isn't good enough to drink for that long.
The only real option is the gym, which actually tracks seeing that Jey's everyday clothes are normally athleisure anyway, negating the need to change.
Sami feels like a caged animal during the elevator ride back down to the lobby, cursing himself for not just taking the stairs, tapping his hands impatiently against his thighs as he descends far too slow.
It's not like Jey has anywhere to be right now, so those extra thirty seconds the elevator take from him won't be detrimental in getting to Jey. But it still feels too long, too wasteful, thirty seconds of time he could better spend persuading Jey to give in to the feelings he's repressing.
And Sami knows he's repressing them. The moisture in Jey's eyes during the tail end of dinner. The tight clench of his jaw that still failed to hide the shaking muscles. The way he won't meet his eyes, the way his usual anger swelled with unmistakable passion.
There has to be some sort of desire left inside him. Fueling his raging fire. Leading him to mask his vulnerability with rage. Becoming a homicidal machine if anyone comes too close to his truth. That desire is in there somewhere, and Sami's willing to get burned, to get beat, to get killed--all in the name of proving its existence.
He's a dead man walking. A prisoner of his own hopeful delusions facing a hopeless demise. Taking one last stand before Jey, the judge, jury, and executioner, praying his sentence will be changed.
His fate is out of his hands, entering the gym with nothing more to lose and everything to gain. And his everything is in here like he anticipated, in front of an empty wall, away from the mirrors and door, hoodie up and head down, curling a dumbbell.
Sami can't see his face, maybe better for the both of them, but he's never wanted to see it more than now. It's weird to even have that thought, creating an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, a slew of conflicting thoughts flying into his head, causing him to hesitate four steps away.
"Jey," He says in an exhale, losing his ability to refill his lungs when Jey freezes.
It wouldn't matter anyway, the air is noxious with resentment and anguish, impossible to breathe. Sami's heart pounds against his ribs hard enough to break them, watching nauseously as the dumbbell slips from tan fingers, thudding hard against the floor. Neither of them jump; too many other bodily reactions to experience, too many thoughts to focus on.
"We," Sami swallows past a lump--more like a boulder--in his throat. "We need to talk."
Jey doesn't want to. Sami doesn't need to see his face to know that. He spins fast on his heel and rushes to the door, knocking hard into Sami on the way, causing the older to stumble back.
"Jey, stop," Sami pleads. "Jey...Jey, please."
Sami has to hear him talk. He's desperate for an answer, for an explanation, for closure in any regard. It's unbearable to spend another second like this. But his begging is ignored, Jey's hand reaching to grab the handle with no hesitation to leave Sami behind.
It can't end like this.
They can't end like this.
Jey can't leave.
Sami can't let him.
He can't lose his everything again.
He won't.
"Jule."
Everything stills. From the air to their hearts. The name hangs over them, settling in the toxic silence. Sami questions every choice he's made in his life, how every choice ultimately led him here, suffocating in these agonizing few seconds.
It feels almost conflicting to say that sacred name to...Jey. An oxymoron of sorts. Using the name of his favorite person to get his least favorite to respond.
His head swirls when Jey tenses and sharply looks over his shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time since their split.
He's not sure what kind of figure of speech defines that those two people are actually one person, staring at him with rage and bitterness.
Jey's brown eyes are dark and ablaze; clouded with hate, roaring with misery, coated with heartache. It's like someone ignited the alcohol in his whiskey eyes. His lip is curled upward like a rabid animal, a caution, a warning, a deterrent.
Sami doesn't even need the vocal response he wanted. Jey's body language is all the confirmation he was looking for.
"Please," Sami makes himself small, weak, not a threat, hoping it'll defuse the bomb that's half a second from denoting.
The bomb in question doesn't move aside from his white teeth clicking together a couple times before they're clenched tight to stop it. It's a stress response, and Sami hates knowing he's the stressor.
It's conflicting for both of them, torn between their heart and their head, their love and their hate, their right and their wrong. Sami knows it's his job to steer this ship out of the choppy seas, but he's not even sure what to say anymore.
There's some relief for him in seeing Jey stay and wait, his hand twitching against his thigh and not reaching for the handle.
Deep down, Jey can't bring himself to leave. It was easier to walk away with it was just Sami. But his nickname ringing in his ears painfully reminds him that it isn't just Sami. And he can't find the strength in him to leave Miza behind.
Sami's aware of this. But he knows he can't talk to Jey yet. Jey would snap, yell, kill. It's always been too hard to talk to Jey anyway. He'll just speak to Jule, ramble and vent and grovel for the man he loves, and hope he isn't murdered within the minute.
"I've missed you," Sami whispers. "It's ridiculous, but these have been the hardest two days of my life."
Jey's eyes soften ever so slightly, giving Sami a gentle nudge of confidence in his disarming abilities. If wrestling ever goes awry, he'll just use this moment on his resume and apply for a bomb squad.
"I couldn't understand what I did to lose you," He shakes his head. "And then today, I found out and..."
The rest of the story goes unsaid. It's too lengthy, too painful, too obvious. Just a different version of what Jey endured. There's no need to relive it, lose whatever progress he's making.
And he's making some. Jey's becoming less angry, the emotion replaced with the repressed sadness he buried deep. It's agonizing to watch, tugging at Sami's aching heart strings. He needs to keep going, regain his trust so he can move closer without getting shanked.
"There's nobody in the world like you. I haven't stopped thinking about you even when you left," He dares to take a hesitatant step, heart swelling when Jey doesn't scurry away, transfixed with the words falling from his lips.
"You're funny, you're smart, you're too good for my ego--you're the only one who could make insulting the shit out of me cute."
Every compliment is paired with a step, each growing more confident with Jey's continued stillness. He looks ethereal this up close, a thought Sami wouldn't have even joked a couple days ago.
His skin is clear aside from the texture of acne scars or wrestling wounds. His lips look soft and glazed in some sort of chapstick, slightly going agape as his walls crumble. His cheekbones are high, his eyebrows are low, beard trimmed and faded up his cheeks. He's undeniably handsome, something Sami couldn't understand until this very moment.
Though, the last shred of his discomfort in liking Jey fades when defensive eyes melt under long lashes, brown irises glimmering. From that moment on, Sami knows he's fucked. He's hooked, too far gone. Having his Jule right in front of him, falling for him physically the same way he did online.
There's no longer a way to protect himself if this doesn't go well. He'll crash harder than before. It's a risk he's willing to take, especially Jey's head tilts ever so slightly, silently vulnerable.
"We spent so long hating each other," Sami's warm eyes bounce around Jey's features. "Hating the outside because we'd never let ourselves see the inside."
Jey feels his control slipping. Mind hazy, heart pounding; he's always weak around Miza. Hearing him speak in a velvety tone, feeling the undeniable fuzziness around him. Everything feels so perfect again.
The blinding gym lights crest over messy copper hair, erring on the side of angelic. Brown eyes draw him closer, bushy beard becoming a beacon of safety. Jey feels too cozy, too secure, too willing. He wants to fall again, and for the first time in days, he's ready.
A warm hand tentatively reaches out to cradle his jaw, where a dark bruise blooms on the curve. Jey can't help but lean further into it. His broken heart is beating as a whole, filling his body with the heat and energy he's been lacking.
Every emotion he's been trying to bury is re-earthed far too easily. But he can't be mad, not when there's so much intoxicating love surrounding him.
"I'm sorry for this."
When Sami's thumb runs across the stain on his bronze skin, Jey becomes aware, too aware. He blinks hard, fondness twisting into confusion. It doesn't make sense. Hearing Miza. Looking at Sami.
The dark voice in his head instantly takes advantage of his lapse; chastising him, degrading him, shaming him. It screams at him, consuming him, controlling him like a puppeteer.
"Get away from me!" He yells, shoving Sami back.
Sami's face falls, eyes squinting as pain bursts in the pupils, thick eyebrows furrowing, wobbling lower lip barely covered by his facial hair. It stings more than Jey can put into words, the burn worsening the onslaught of demeaning things bouncing in his head.
"It was nothing!" He growls, backing away from Sami's dispirited frame. "It was nothing, it meant nothing, so just leave me the fuck alone!"
His inner voice tears him down word by word, rebuilding his wall brick by brick. Morphing him back into what he's supposed to be. Guarded. Impassive. Straight.
It doesn't matter what he thought he wanted. It's not who he's expected to be. His fans would hate him. He can almost hear them wail on about the man they used to know. Their perfect prince corrupted.
His family would disown him. Mutter that Jimmy always was the better twin. That Jey was just the bonus baby they didn't even want, that they could easily do without. Just a waste of money, resources, and space.
Or at least, this is all that his mind is telling him. Droning on while he scrambles out of the gym, pressing his hands against his ears like it'd block out the noise.
The fire roars inside him, burning every piece of him that could ever be traced back to Sami, back to Miza, back to Jule. It's for his safety, for his future, for his peace, for his own good. Right?
It has to be this way. He can't be a failure to his fans and the whispered secret of his family. This needed to happen, for his own good. Right?
Being with Sami was a mistake, a part of his history he'll scrub from the records. There's no reason to waste more of his time and tarnish more of his reputation with Sami. Abandoning all that love and warmth and joy was the right choice, it was all toxic at the root anyway. He had to do it, for his own good. Right?
Right?
Notes:
Sorry this chapter was another long wait! I wrote a couple small oneshots while working on this and I got distracted!
I hope you enjoy! Sorry we're still in the angsty parts :(
Chapter 11: Can't Let It Go
Summary:
Sami and Jey struggle to exist with and without each other, making the rest of the Bloodline watch on cluelessly and anxiously as they say nothing
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Hello, Naomi," Paul chirps as he walks by her on his way to the Bloodline room.
"Hey, Paul! Congratulations on your merch!"
"I expect to see them all wearing it," He winks.
"They are, don't you worry!" She calls over her shoulder, beaming.
He can't help but smile, keeping it small and humble, instead shifting his focus toward adjusting his tie and smoothing out wrinkles on his suit jacket.
It's his first piece of merchandise signifying his role in the Bloodline storyline. He's always been grateful to be such a prominent manager throughout his time in the company, but being The Wise Man to Roman really feels like his crowning achievement.
He feels like a vital part of the machine. The storyline has brought out some of his best acting, his best emotion, his best promotions. But it also extends beyond their character work. Just getting to know the family has been a gift in itself.
Roman shocks him with how quick and seamless his transitions in and out of character are. One second, he's berating the group for their 'countless failures', and the next, he's applauding them endlessly for executing the most basic of moves.
The twins have an energy bright enough to put the Vegas strip to shame. They're witty and hilarious, hardworking and tenacious, lively and dynamic. Paul doesn't remember having a fraction of their spirit, even in his prime.
Solo might be his secret favorite, just the sweet, silent teddy bear type. He's unbreakable on camera, wholehearted devotion to his character and kayfabe. But off camera, he's like his brothers--just if they were a tad more mature and focused.
But he's always related to Sami the most, both of them being an honorary member of the greatest family dynasty in World Wrestling Entertainment history. It's a heavy gift to carry, more pressure to fit the expectation of being worthy to hold the title.
And regardless of what the fans think, the family themselves welcome them with open arms, happy to have Heyman and Zayn written in their history books. Well, at least most of the family for Sami.
"Knock, knock!" Paul raps on the door before pushing it open.
"Wise Man!" Roman grins, throwing his arms up. "Look what we got on!"
Blue eyes scan the room, taking in every person wearing the new black shirt, bright bold red letters describing his beloved title. Solo and Jimmy have the same look as Roman, excitement bubbling over. Almost over the top to compensate for something, which tracks seeing that Jey and Sami look desolate in their own respective corners.
Paul lingers on them for a while before brushing it off when Roman's smile starts to falter.
"Thank you, my Tribal Chief," He plays along, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. "And thank you all for wearing it."
"Of course," Solo brushes his hand down the shirt. "It's gonna be a bestseller."
"It is," Roman nods.
"Yeah, and it makes my biceps look huge," Jimmy flexes, giving a couple firm slaps to his skin.
"Look at that!" The leader gestures to the twin, "It even gives the illusion of muscle!"
The group bursts into laughter, Jimmy yanking off his sneaker and throwing it toward Roman's shoulder. He misses wide left, nailing the wall instead, sending them into a fit of hysterics.
Paul takes a second while Jimmy and Solo are distracted, the younger making fun of the older's throwing form, to lean close to Roman.
"What did I miss?" He says through his smile, looking between the two in the back, wallowing in pity, oblivious to the joy around them.
"We don't even know," Roman mutters, pretending to laugh when Jimmy looks over for help.
For someone not directly involved in whatever argument Sami and Jey are in, Jimmy's having a lot of trouble with it. Jey's silent suffering is eating away at him every second, leaving him to stare longingly at his usual vibrant twin, wishing he could fix whatever troubles him.
Giving any attention to the tension only brings them down, so any sort of discussion they have about it is done quietly and casually, hidden from all the Usos, honorary or not.
While Jimmy pleads for Roman to share stories of all the times he's witnessed him throw perfect spirals, Solo's eyes wander to Paul, immediately clocking his buried confusion.
Solo cracks another joke, having Jimmy fall back into his excuses, coercing Roman to agree that he almost never misses. He makes his way over to Paul during the distraction, slinging an arm around his shoulder and running him through the cliff notes.
"They got into a fist fight, we tried to help, it didn't work, they spoke alone..." Solo sighs. "...and now they've been like this all day."
"I didn't think it was possible for them to hate each other more," Paul frowns.
"Nobody got killed, so I'm takin' it as win."
"Have they said anything?"
"Nothin' important."
It's peculiar for either of them to be so reserved. Paul literally had to start packing extra bottles of Ibuprofen just to keep up with the headaches their constant arguments give him. Even in their 'quiet moments', they're at least shooting nasty looks and mumbling crap under their breath.
This is wildly new, wildly different, and he'd almost rather a headache than be in the room with whatever this is.
"Hey, y'all!" A woman opens the door, gathering their attention. "I'm Kelsey, a representative of ABC13 Houston, here to get some footage of y'all in the new shirts!"
Paul slips back into work mode, immediately offering out his hand and complimenting her attire. While she distracts herself with Roman, Jimmy, and Solo, Paul takes the excuse to walk over to the depressing end of the room.
"Hey," He whispers. "Hey!"
His sharp whispers gain the attention of Sami first. "Huh?"
"Media time," Paul gestures toward the bright blonde gushing over Roman.
"Oh," Sami swallows hard, pulling himself up. "Right."
Paul cuts him off, shaking his head as he finger combs Sami's messy curls. "Do you even own a comb, Sami?"
"Uh-huh," The Canadian mumbles, waving him off and moving around him. "I'll just put it in a bun."
The manager rubs the bridge of his nose. He definitely missed the part of his contract where it said he'd become the on-the-road father to the group, because it may have hindered him from signing. It's not that he doesn't care for them--he truly does love them like his own--but their occasional childish tendencies can get agitating.
After quick internal regrouping, he's ready to tackle the other brooding man, who still hasn't acknowledged anyone at all.
"Jey," Paul walks over, tapping impatiently on his shoulder. "Jey, there's--"
"I know," Jey grumbles, not even meeting his eyes as he stands.
That pisses him off more than Sami's dismissive fogginess. The redhead wasn't even aware of anything, barely existing through countless consuming thoughts. But Jey isn't disassociating at all, entirely concious through the laughter, Kelsey's entrance, and Paul's attempt at getting them both over. He just choosing to ignore it all.
"Hey," Paul narrows his eyes, pressing a hand against Jey's chest. "Talk to me."
The Uso keeps his head low. "Move, we got media."
"You aren't going in front of a camera like this."
"Then I ain't goin' in front of the camera at all," Jey threatens, meeting his glare, irises cold and empty.
If Paul believed in aliens and clones, he'd love to submit Jey as evidence of an abduction and replacement. In all the years he's known Jey, from seeing him as a teenager around his dad to a rookie in the indies, he's never looked so...dead.
Even in his most serious of promotions, his zest is always there, covered by his commitment to the character--usually pretty poorly if Paul had to say. But there's none of that left in Jey. None.
He doesn't dare dig further, silently stepping aside to let Jey move past him. Truthfully, he shouldn't let Jey get in front of any camera right now. With the way he is, one bad stunt could ruin his entire character. Hell, his entire career.
It's too far out of his hands, though, too far out of even his pay grade. Instead, he stays begrudgingly quiet and lingers around Sami and Jey in case he needs to step in.
Kelsey doesn't seem to notice the lack of energy from them, too enthralled with being two feet away from Roman Reigns, a usual case for many of the reporters. Understandably so, the guy is a fucking statue, a painting, a god.
Roman's always been aware of the oogling, but today, he's playing into it a touch more than normal, working hard to maintain Kelsey's attention and the camera's focus so it stays away from the sad sacks.
"Another question, Roman," She holds the microphone back up to his charming smile. "How do you feel knowing your wise man is getting the love he deserves with this new merch?"
"My Wise Man deserves everything," His eyes lock onto Paul, slipping into character, his usual tone steadying and slowing. "Sometimes I feel like my Wise Man is the only one who's really earned it."
The camera pans across the group, faces sullen. Paul can't hide his pride for Roman's wit, and thankfully, he doesn't have to, smiling big toward the leader.
"Thank you, my Tribal Chief," He folds his hands in front of him, one of his usual stances, as the camera finds him.
Roman is beyond intelligent for working in an insult, causing Solo and Jimmy's expressions to fall just as low as Sami and Jey's. They all blend together now, masks of shame and stone, nobody the wiser over the discrepancies in locker room attitude.
"And where can the other Wise Man supporters buy this shirt?" Kelsey eyes the shirt.
"The only place anyone needs to shop. Shop.WWE.com."
"Should they pick themselves up an OTC shirt while they're on the site?" She questions through a giggle.
His face contorts, furrowed brows, annoyed smile. Slowly, he starts to laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "They should already have one, Kelsey."
"And if they don't?"
"Buy one?" He scoffs, shrugging and gesturing toward Kelsey in confusion. "They need to buy one, buy them all--buy enough so people are distracted by our beautiful shirts instead of their ugly faces."
Kelsey widens her eyes, turning back to the camera, smile still sparkling. "Y'all better acknowledge the OTC and the Wise Man today and--"
"Every day," Roman corrects.
"Every day," She repeats. "And get yourself the merchandise new on Shop.WWE.com! And be sure to head to ABC13.com for a chance to win the new Wise Man shirt!"
The camera pans back to Paul for just a moment, capturing his hands pressed together in front of his face, looking up at Roman with a gracious smile. The lense drops to get another look at the red lettering across Roman's chest before returning to Kelsey.
"After the commercial break, I'll speak with the Honorary Uce, Sami Zayn, to get his opinion on the ongoing tension between the Bloodline and the Brawling Brutes, stay tuned!"
The camera crew steadies for a moment, getting a couple final seconds of Kelsey and her blinding beam. Out of view, Paul falls out of his pose, staring at Roman with now nervous eyes. They were never told anything about Sami having a one-on-one interview, which wouldn't matter if the paler was actually showing signs of life.
Right now, the idea of him going anywhere alone in the direct public eye makes Paul nauseous.
"Sami," Paul tugs him aside once the camera lights fade. "I'll go with you for the interview, okay?"
"It's fine," Sami shakes his head.
It's definitely not fine. He looks like he's been dragged through Hell fifteen times, exhausted and disheveled. Just a shell of the person he's been. Paul wants to fix it; for Sami, for himself, for the family, for the fans. But there's not enough time right now, attention slowly turning onto Sami, so the best Paul can do right now is protect him
"I say this with the utmost respect, but this isn't Sami Zayn they want to interview."
Sami doesn't look entirely there, squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing them with the heels of his hands until he sees stars. "It's fine, I'm fine, I know how to do an interview."
"Look at you," Paul whispers, grabbing his hands once they fall to his sides. "You don't have an ounce of energy."
"I'm just tired, Paul."
"But I've got the gift of the gab. You know I can work whatever feelings you have right now into the storyline seamlessly and then we can talk it all out after--"
"Sami?" Kelsey walks over. "Mind following me?"
Paul shoots one last look, straight face but begging eyes. Sami offers a squeeze to Paul's hands before pulling away--maybe assurance, maybe a thanks--but it doesn't stop Paul's chest from tightening when he walks out with the crew.
The room is quiet for a moment, four sets of eyes staring at the door, one set at the ground, tension breeding in the silence.
"He'll be okay," Roman nods, turning to the group before pausing and cocking his head. "Right?"
"It's outta our hands at this point," Solo sighs. "The worst he can do is start cryin' again."
"A public meltdown isn't a good look, Solo," Paul frowns.
"Better than losin' his job."
"Crying over... god knows what could bury his career anyway."
"He's sad, but he ain't stupid," Jimmy interjects. "Sami won't mess up the interview."
"But why is he even sad?" The manager questions.
Jimmy shifts his weight uncomfortably between his feet, looking at his twin through his peripheral. Solo is less subtle, completely glaring at his brother, watching the older twitch under everyone's gaze.
"I'm goin' to get wrapped," Jey grumbles, rushing toward the door to escape the eyes burning more holes into him.
They've been staring all day; poking, proding, prying. He feels naked and on display, a human sacrifice for his own secrets, falling apart physically just to keep it closed mentally.
It's insufferable, stuck in a lonely loop of his rapid relationship and their second split. He's more wrecked than he'd care to admit, his sinkhole of a heart continuing to grow until he'll inevitably cave in on himself.
In hopes to slow that process down, he's pushing everyone away using anything that works; anger, attitude, apathy. They can't get too close, they'll fall in with him.
Sometimes, he can feel the facade starting to crack; when Roman offers to go get his favorite cookies from catering, when Solo asks if he wants to take a walk, when Jimmy sits beside him and idly rambles between worried looks.
But nothing is worse than when he looks at Sami, the redhead shattered beyond repair. He's pitiful to look at, but it's been impossible to keep his eyes away since he looked last night. It's a nagging sensation only satisfied when he flicks his eyes over, always wincing at the state of Sami before turning away, the itch instantaneously returning.
It's clear they're both unwell. Jey can't stop thinking about Sami; the indulgence of his voice, the heat of his hand, the honey color of his eyes. Worse, he can't stop thinking of his own reactions to it all; weak kneed, euphoric, hopeful.
Every reaction he once had to Miza over the phone, he had it to Sami in person while staring at his cooper hair and crooked nose.
He's even caught himself having a new feeling toward Sami, something tightening in his chest, knocking the wind out of him. It happened first this morning when he heard that Sami caught a ride to the arena with Kevin instead of riding with the group.
Normally, he would've made some sort of joke about how downright elated he is to not have Yukon Cornelius beside him. But instead, a sprout of disappointment grew in his stomach, so foreign that Jey took a mental weedwhacker to it in hopes it'd never return.
But it did return, growing into a full fucking tree when he walked in and saw Sami already tucked into the corner of the locker room, gnawing on his lip in a daze.
He knew exactly when Sami's eyes fell onto him, he could feel it, his heart involuntarily fluttering as blood rushed to his face. His family could tell immediately something was amiss, drilling into them before giving up when neither broke.
At one point, the group left them alone-- purposefully--hinting at the idea of talking it out while they were gone. That was the hardest part of the night so far, tension so thick the air felt solid and heavy. No distraction, no escape, no relief.
They didn't say a word to each other. Jey was too stubborn to speak. Sami was too polite to make him.
"Wrapped?" Solo calls after the younger twin. "You don't even have a match tonight."
The heavy slam of the door is the only response they receive, ringing in their ears for a couple of moments before the echos fade into the still air.
Roman dares to speak first, voice slow and uneasy. "This is...uh..."
"Uncomfortable," Solo finishes.
"Really uncomfortable," Paul agrees.
Jimmy shakes his head. "Yeah."
After exchanging looks with Roman and Solo, who give subtle nods toward the Uso staring at the ground, they hatch a plan to figure out what's going on.
Jimmy has to know more than he is letting on about Jey's state, they're practically conjoined at times, basically clones. It's hard to believe that Jimmy doesn't have a clue what's going on today after thirty-seven years of knowing everything about Jey.
After another couple seconds of silent plotting, Paul is nominated to ask the question they all want answers to. "What's wrong with him?"
"I dunno," Jimmy sighs, running his hand through his dyed hair. "It's killin' me though."
Solo chews on the inside of his cheek, pressing further when Roman nudges his side. "He hasn't told you?"
Jimmy's eyes bounce up and across the group, wide and innocent, unaware of their interrogation. "Nah, not a word."
"Y'all know everything about each other," Roman shrugs. "I'm sure he'd tell you if you asked."
"I already did. He ain't talkin'."
Paul's tired of beating around the bush, sucking his teeth before blurting, "Don't you just kinda...know?"
The Uso is taken aback, blinking hard and cocking his head. "What?"
Nobody speaks, peering amongst each other uncomfortably, biting their nails, squirming under Jimmy's gaze. He's in utter disbelief, eyebrows knit and lip curled, the quiet only fueling his frustration more.
"Y'all do know twins can't read each other's minds, right?" Jimmy groans, throwing his arms up. "It's a rumor!"
"Duh!" Roman nods quick, gesturing to the group. "We obviously knew that--uh--"
Solo crosses his arms. "Jimmy, it would be ridiculous to even think that we--uhm--that we--"
"We did not mean it like that," Paul assures.
They're horrible liars, evident from the way Jimmy mutters, "Dumbasses," under his breath before shaking his head and walking off, leaving them to bicker in hushed voices over where their recon went south.
●●●
Roman winces when Paul gently presses an ice pack against his red cheek. "Wise Man?"
"Yes, my Tribal Chief?" His voices wavers.
Roman's dark eyes fall onto the rest of the Bloodline, packed in and around a black couch beside him. They're all shrinking into the leather like it'll hide them, eyes darting around nervously. Solo stands behind them, unphased and stony faced. He knows he's not in trouble.
"Did I not ask those three last week to take care of the Brawling Brutes problem?"
"You did ask them, sir."
"Then tell me why Sheamus just attacked me backstage?" He questions rhetorically, venomous irritating dripping from his words.
Before Paul can even mutter a response, Roman snatches the ice pack from his hands, nails raking across pale skin, causing the Wise Man to yelp and hug his hand to his chest.
Roman rises and throws the pack against the wall, causing the trio to flinch. "Tell me why!"
Sami swallows hard when the leader stalks toward him. Roman cocks his head, sinking to his level. "Maybe it's because someone doesn't know how to shut their mouth."
The interview Sami did earlier was actually more of a work, offering one final push to the feud between the Bloodline and the Brutes.
The redhead keeps his eyes forward, biting back his fear, eyes bursting with painful emotion.
Credit where credit is due, Sami and Jey have been exceptional filming today, seemingly using their emotion as a tool when the camera's are on. Jimmy was right, they're not stupid enough to let whatever this is get in the way of their work.
"So what?" Roman scoffs. "You get to talk a big game, and I have to pay for it?"
Sami shakes his head, making poor attempts to meet Roman's eyes, always bouncing away soon after under the heat. "Roman, I didn't--"
He's cut off by Roman shoving a hand to his cheek, throwing his head aside, momentum knocking him against Jimmy. The older twin grabs Sami's bicep to balance him, staring up at Roman with resentment.
The chief twists a hand into the bushy beard, causing Sami to grimace, pulling to bring their faces together. "You're going to finish this--for real this time," He demands calmly. "Understood?"
"Yes," Sami breathes, fingers gripping at Roman's wrist, desperate to free himself but unwilling to risk further punishment.
Jey watches from the other end of the couch, bunching his pants up in his fists. He can't understand why he's full of fury at the sight. It's never happened like this, he's always had to pretend to be piqued when Sami was being reprimanded. But today, right now, seeing Sami's features contort into dread, he's wrathful.
It fills him like carbon dioxide in a soda bottle, bubbling and fizzing and spitting, fast approaching a pop. There's too much anger inside him to feel embarrassment or shame over the feelings. He's impossibly jumpy, muscles twitching, aching to stand and knock Roman away from Sami.
Roman becomes aware of the daggers the twins are shooting at him, turning slowly toward them. "Why are you mad at me?" He mutters. "His idiocracy got me hit in the face with a shillelagh."
Jimmy keeps Sami close, wordless support even though he lowers his head from his cousin's berating. It makes Roman chuckle, shifting his focus to Jey, taken aback slightly at the genuine rage in the Usos brown eyes. Like the talented actor he is, he doesn't show his confusion, face twisting into a smile.
"Fine!" He laughs, freeing Sami, causing Jey to release a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That's fine! Y'all want to support him instead of your own blood!?"
Sami runs shaky hands through his beard, smoothing out the coarse strands and massaging the roots. Jey can't take his eyes off him, gripping the fabric of his sweats until his knuckles are white and his fingers burn.
"You two can join him in taking on the Brutes," Roman points to the twins. "In a six man tag match in the main event of Raw next week."
"My Tribal Chief," Paul chimes in. "There's already a main event on Raw."
"And?" Roman furrows his brows, turning to Paul. "I am the double champion, the Tribal Chief, the top dog. I am the only thing people want to see. I am the WWE."
He offers a smile, bitchy and sharp. "So if I say they're the main event on Raw, they're going to be the main even on Raw."
"Of course," The Wise Man bows his head, stepping back toward the door. "I'll go make the call."
"Thank you," Roman sighs, falling back into his chair, rubbing away the pain in his cheek.
"That's a wrap!" The cameraman calls after a couple tense seconds of closing footage.
"I didn't tug you too hard, did I?" Roman jumps up, leaning over the armrest of the couch toward Sami.
"You're fine," Sami assures, looking at the workers packing up equipment. "Are we done here?"
"Yeah, that's our last segment," The leader confirms, slinging an arm around Sami when he rises, leaning close. "I'm really proud of you for doin' so well tonight even though you're not a hundred percent."
"It's my job, Roman."
"I know, but you're struggling bad and I can tell. You know I'm here if you need to talk it out."
"Right," Sami nods, still a bit hazy, yearning to get back to his room so he can be free of eyes and cameras. "I appreciate it."
His dismissiveness is cue for Roman to leave and let him pack up in peace. The younger doesn't seem to be so convinced--obviously, seeing that Sami wasn't at all assuring--but he has enough respect not to press further, giving another piece of praise before walking off to his own bags.
Sami appreciates being left alone for a couple seconds, the temporary weight of keeping it together lifting off his shoulders. But that freedom doesn't last, not when the real burden settles back over his chest, lungs straining, heart racing.
As much as he hated having to hold conversations and fake it for the camera today, being alone in his head has been far worse. It's the most twisted feeling; wishing he was distracted while he's alone, but immediately wishing he was alone when he's distracted. He can't keep up with his own mind, winded as he sprints toward whatever will make it all feel better for the time being.
It's his own damn fault. He was warned going to Jey was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Especially when he felt time slow down inches from Jey's face, hand cupping the curve of his jaw, snapping perfectly together like puzzle pieces. He should've walked away before that, when he realized he was falling too far. But instead, he shed the last of his armor, giving himself up entirely, heart on the edge of Jey's knife.
And for a moment, he truly believed Jey was willing too, that look in his eyes was unmistakable. But Sami couldn't do anything when that brightness clouded over at full tilt. Jey broke him, stabbed him, screamed words that wrecked him; all before he could even blink.
Watching Jey storm out was insufferable. He was in shambles, falling to his knees and sobbing into his hands, worsening when he'd feel residual electricity tingling on his skin from the hand that touched Jey's.
Nothing was truly as pitiful as Sami's overwhelming disappointment at Jey not looking back on his way out the door. Out of everything that happened--the final nail in their relationship, his heart bleeding out, their cosmic bond snapping in the sky--Sami's only thought was how he never got one last look before the door closed.
Sure, The Uso is just a couple feet behind him, alive and visible. But Sami doesn't want to see that Jey, he's seen that Jey for years. He wants to see Jule, that side of Jey that only he got to have; that beautiful sparkle in his eye, that subtle change in his breathing, that rare calmness in his aura.
Sami can't help but glance over his shoulder, attempting to find a hint of Jule in Jey's tense frame. Instead, he just finds himself admiring the Samoan, tracing the tribal tattoos over rolling muscles with his eyes until he realizes he's staring and returns to packing.
He's not sure he can live like this for the rest of his life. The idea of being in love with Jey is sickening, but the idea of not loving him at all makes him feel hollow. It's a lose-lose. Maybe he'll reach out to someone, see if he can betray the Bloodline and make a strong exit from the blue brand, escape Jey and this suffocating crush for good.
But something inside of him won't let him draft the text, type the email, or make the call. Something in him needs to be around Jey Uso, regardless of how his cold shoulder twists the knife in his heart.
Sami can't let this go. He can't let them go. Even if their hourglass is shattered, he'll spend the rest of his life sifting through the sand for the pieces of glass, gluing them back together, hoping to trick the world into believing their time together never passed.
It's pathetic. He needs to move on. Not waste his time on a dead romance.
"Ready to go?" Solo questions.
Sami's head bounces up, the blond stands a couple feet away from him, backpack already slung over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Sami mumbles, zipping up his duffle.
His eyes trail around the room as he follows Solo to the door, daring to land on the only thing he can think about. It nearly stops him in his tracks when the soft brown eyes are already on him. The look doesn't last long. They harden instantly, dark brows furrowing, face scrunching. Before he can process it, Jey's back is to him, leaving him shift his focus back onto Solo.
It's pathetic. But he can't move on. Not when he found signs of life.
Not when he just saw a glimpse of Jule.
Notes:
IT'S GETTING GOOOOOD
I'm so excited for the next chapter, you guys have no idea
I love you all! <3
Chapter 12: Voices
Summary:
Differing degrees of desperation bring Sami and Jey together exactly one week after their inital meeting, down to the odd hour of the night
Notes:
Hi, sweeties!!! :D
I've caught the writing bug, so I'm just rolling things out! I hope you guys enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jey's eyes glaze over as he stares at the sky, stars barely visible from the light pollution. He tries anyway, searching for Leo, squinting to find the sickle or whatever it was called.
This wasn't his initial plan upon returning to his room after the show. He was supposed to shower and go to bed. "Relax and recharge" as Roman said.
It was easy enough at first; standing beneath the spray of hot water, closing his eyes and plugging his ears so it sounded like waterfall, trying to find some peace of mind.
But that fell apart when he actually had to do more than stand. To fill the silence while he washed his hair and body, he blasted music from his workout playlist, all upbeat tempos with empowering lyrics.
And while it didn't work in changing his mood, it was loud enough to keep his brain from running, and that's all he could ask for.
He slid beneath the sheets five minutes later, not caring to dry his hair more than a quick rub with the towel, which he tossed lazily onto the bathroom tile after he dressed.
It was insanely hopeful of him to think he'd just drift off into sleep without a struggle. The thoughts came spilling back the moment he settled into a comfortable position, echoing in the emptiness, harmonizing with the hum of the air conditioning unit.
Closing his eyes only brought flashes of pale skin and red hair, so he was forced to find ways to keep them open until he knocked out naturally.
And it led him to the armchair by the window, fulfilling the broken promise to Sami all these days later. Something deep inside him warmed at that thought, leading him to tremor in discomfort, pushing it away before he could fully accept it. He couldn't bring himself to move from the chair, still can't, even twenty minutes later.
"Fuckin' stupid," He grumbles, pulling his knees to his chest, skin raised with goosebumps.
How anyone could find a single constellation in a sea of stars is beyond him. How Sami can sit and pick them out so easily is intriguing--did he ever mention where he learned to do that? God, he should have paid more attention that night. He was just too spent after they--
Jey shivers at the memory, blaming it on the air conditioner that's pumping pure ice vapor into the room, turning his back to the window.
He folds his hands under his head, knuckles against his cheek, wiggling around until he finds a comfortable position. Without the visual distraction, his new course of action is getting himself as cold as humanely possible until the only thoughts he can form are temperature related.
While it's pretty fucking cold--his toes are starting to go numb--he's not quite at that level yet, evident from the way his brain drifts back toward Sami almost immediately after he stills.
It's starting to become a form of torture at this point, his own mind turning against him, chaining him up with the memories. But it's getting hard to convince himself of that anymore when he's making the shittiest effort possible to evade them--if he's even trying to at all.
Jey feels his control slipping. Mind hazy, heart pounding; he's always weak around Miza. Hearing him speak in a velvety tone, feeling the undeniable fuzziness around him. Everything feels so perfect again.
His head starts to swirl like it did that night, recalling the exact cadence of Sami's voice, so intoxicating that he could finally see the traces of Miza in Sami. That thought once made him sick, vomit rising in his throat, tears welling in his eyes. But tonight, it's like his only solace, his refuge, his zen. All the anxiety mounting inside starts to diminish as he slips further.
The blinding gym lights crest over messy copper hair, erring on the side of angelic. Brown eyes draw him closer, bushy beard becoming a beacon of safety. Jey feels too cozy, too secure, too willing. He wants to fall again, and for the first time in days, he's ready.
Jey can see him. Like he's right back in that gym, sweltering under those sparkling irises, hypnotized like a moth to a flame. Even in a bun, his hair is in shambles. But somehow, Sami pulls it off every time, disheveled in a charming way. The kind of thing that makes him want to smile and mutter a loving insult as he fixes it.
A warm hand tentatively reaches out to cradle his jaw, where a dark bruise blooms on the curve. Jey can't help but lean further into it. His broken heart is beating as a whole, filling his body with the heat and energy he's been lacking.
Sami's hand fits so perfectly here. His touch, only a handprint wide is successful in heating Jey's entire body. He instinctively meets it, feeling Sami's fingers flex against his jaw, hoping to get as much contact as possible. A part of him hopes it leaves a mark, a print, a stain. It'd undoubtedly be his new favorite tattoo.
"I'm sorry for this."
It's the last thing Sami said to him. An apology, not just for the bruise to his jaw, but to everything that's happened in the blur of the week. The rises, the falls, the physical and mental wounds he's left.
The roughness of his thumb brushing against the grain of his beard snapped Jey out of it last time. He let the voices in his head win, doing what they said mindlessly, allowing them to degrade him for the sadness in his heart over Sami's broken stare.
But they can't reach him now, just muffled shouts in the distance. Sami's captivating light turns them to ashes, keeping Jey safe in the moment. The gentle swipes against his skin ground him, assure him, support him. Maybe he can fix it, rectify his mistake, save them from this living nightmare.
"I'm sorry too," He whispers, nuzzling further into Sami's touch.
"It's okay," The older promises. "You're okay."
This is better than before. He feels complete this time, stronger, like he can stand to face the reality of liking Sami instead of crumbling before it.
All the things he loved about Miza, he hated about Sami. Because of what? His name? His face? His involvement in their family storyline that he didn't even have a choice in?
One bad first impression set the stage for months of hatred. Jey couldn't see Sami the way his family did, his friends did, the fans did. He never once thought to question if he was the problem, not Sami.
It's not until he saw the beauty of Sami through the pseudonym of Miza did he realize he's been looking at the Canadian through jade colored glasses.
He's not an agitating pin popping his happy bubbles. He's not a dark cloud raining on his parades. He's not the ghost haunting his waking hours.
Sami's a fucking angel.
Standing here with Sami, Jey can actually see it, feel it, hear it, understand that he was the pin, he was the dark cloud, he was the ghost. He was the artist painting Sami out to be a monster, so blind to the inner workings of his own mind.
"You're not stupid," Sami hums, as if he can read Jey's thoughts.
But he is stupid. The dumbest motherfucker in the entire universe actually. He realizes he actually likes Sami after he burned their bridge? There's really no going back from shouting in his face and breaking his heart a second time.
Knock, knock, knock
Gentle tapping against the wooden door causes Jey to jump, eyes flickering open, greeted with the dark, moonlit room.
He's not sure when he closed his eyes, exhaustion creeping in enough to make the transition unnoticeable. Obviously, none of that was real, he should've known that. Fixing the mistake from last night is impossible.
Sami and his voice were figments of his imagination, taunting him, opening him up for more cheap shots from the voices now that he's gone.
Truthfully, he's more embarrassed about the way he finds his own hand against his jaw, trying to mimic Sami, replicate the day old contact. God, that's pathetic. He's pathetic. Finding relief from his own actions in the seconds before he took them.
Jey rises from the armchair slowly, careful not to make too much noise. He stands still for fifteen seconds, staring at the door, starting questioning if he even heard it. Maybe it was his rational mind breaking him from that desperate trance, hoping to protect what shred of dignity he may have left inside.
It's too late to worry about it now, hands on the bedside clock ticking toward two-thirty. If he even wants a shot at waking up rested tomorrow for travel, he needed to be in bed... an hour ago, but this should be fine if he can get warm and comfortable in five minutes.
He's only ten seconds into those five minutes when another series of knocks hit his door. It's unmistakable now, someone's definitely outside, trying to get his attention as discreetly as possible, aware of the hour.
The only person who could need him at this hour has his spare key. So realistically, Jey should just ignore it; make calculated movements so they won't hear, pretend he's asleep--he should be anyway.
But the mystery hangs heavy over his head, quelling the noises in his brain that have shamed him relentlessly from the moment he snapped out of the flashback.
He slides off the bed, carpet crushing under his weight as he makes his way toward the door, bright hall lights streaming through the cracks. It's so eerily quiet on the other side that Jey almost thinks the person walked off, but cracking open the door proves him very wrong.
Standing before him in a faded t-shirt and worn sweats is Sami, exhausted eyes aimed toward the floor. He looks worse than earlier, shoulders down in a meek stance, mindlessly wringing out his hands to expell anxious energy.
He doesn't say anything in the five seconds Jey glares at him. It took him an hour to gather the courage to even come here, and the entire walk, he planned out his speech, outlining his feelings and hopes. He was confident until his knuckles hit the door, but at that point, it was too late to turn back.
He mumbled through the words he planned to say while he waited in complete silence, being sure to recall all the points so this risky move wasn't a total bust. But they've all flown out the window now that Jey actually answered the door.
What does he do now? Stutter over some bullshit plea before Jey ultimately slams the door in his face? That's pretty pitiful. His face burns, his skin feels raw from the constant fidgeting, his heart thuds in his chest. There's nothing he can do. He can only think of three words to say to Jey, three words that will surely earn him more than a door in the face.
Sami anticipates a lot of responses from Jey. Maybe a sharp comment about bothering him so late with no explanation. Perhaps a string of swears hissed with hatred. Most likely a grumble under his breath as he leaves Sami in the hallway, staring at a closed door once again.
But instead, Jey spins and retreats back into the room, holding his hand to the door for as long as he can before his fingers slide off the wood. It's an unspoken welcome, one that Sami never thought he'd get. It catches him so off guard that he almost forgets to follow, catching the door right before the metal locks back into place.
Jey's room is like a meat locker, dark and cold, the window open for strips moonlight to stretch across the floor. The Uso crawls back into bed, sitting back against the pillows, face turned away, leaving Sami to shuffle toward the edge of the mattress.
Sami takes an embarrassing amount of time soaking in the little things about Jey he rarely gets to see. For a guy who covers his legs all the time, he's got insane quads and calves. Ink covers most of his skin there too, even trailing up underneath his boxers where Sami can't see.
His mullet is slowly finding its way back into the shape normally has, some parts frizzy from air, some parts still shiny from moisture. The dyed red curls at the back of his neck are vibrant and unruly, sticking up around his ears or down to his neck. His long hair back in the day was fine, but this style fits him beautifully.
Jey starts to twitch under his gaze, pulling the sheets over his lower half, twisting the fabric around his fingers. Sami hates to see him anxious, every tremble of his hands sending a sharp ache into his chest, but he still can't find the words he mapped out two minutes ago.
"What do you want, Sami?"
His voice alone sends a chill over Sami's skin, stomach knotting, a kick in the ass to get this talk going before Jey throws him out the window. Though, the fact that he's been standing so close to Jey, in his room, and is still in one piece has to count for something.
"I don't know," He admits in an exhale, watching Jey fidget, brain emptying carelessly through his mouth. "I know you said that it's over, and we were nothing, and to just let it go."
Certain words make the younger tense up, shoulders tightening upward, jaw clenching. It's too dark to tell anything beyond those subtle movements, and Sami has no idea where his head is at. He could be digging himself into a deeper grave by continuing, but his floodgates have opened, thoughtlessly pouring the last of his broken heart out to Jey.
"But I can't," Sami manages. "I tried so hard but I just can't. In thirty-eight years of my life, the four days I had with you were the best. And I know that sounds so fucking ridiculous but I--I--" His voice dries, trailing off.
Who is he kidding? This is hopeless. Jey still won't look him, he'll barely speak to him--Sami could stand here professing his love for years and it wouldn't matter. It will never matter. What he says, what he does, what he has, none of it is worth a dime. All because he's Sami Zayn, and Jey will never accept that.
"I don't know," He whispers, deflating, lowering his head in defeat. "I just--I--I don't know."
He's out of gas, putting pedal to the metal for days now, chasing after someone who clearly doesn't want to be caught. At least he can say he tried? A (not so) soothing relief to the open sore this will leave him with forever.
An agonizing couple of seconds pass, enough time for Sami to come to grips and drag his feet toward the door. The stillness is interrupted by the groan of mattress springs, the metallic clinks enough to stop him in his tracks.
Back on the bed, Jey has shifted over slightly, from the middle to the right side, freeing up the entire left half. The sheets are kicked downward, another wordless invitation that's juxtaposed with his body language, rigid and closed off.
Sami isn't sold on the idea that this is really happening, giving himself a pinch through his sweats on the way over to ensure he's not sleeping in another hopeful dream. After seven additional pinches for science, he's very aware this is reality, a reality where he's kicking off his slides and crawling into bed beside Jey Uso.
Jey speaks once Sami leans back against the headboard, eyes darting between the redhead and the window. "Do you always wear socks in bed?"
How...odd. A directionless question to fill the heavy air. It feels like everything Sami's ever known about idle chatter escapes his memory. What does he say back? What does Jey want to hear? Why can't he formulate a single response?
They haven't had a normal conversation once in their time knowing each other--well, except when they were texting. But maybe that's what Jey wants. Jey wants Miza--not in the sense of a totally new person--but the side of Sami that he's only given to Jey. To hear him again, to see him again, to feel him again.
"Not normally," Sami shakes his head. "But I thought I'd protect you from my raging, infectious Athlete's Foot."
It earns him a side eye, the contact lasting two seconds before Jey flees. It's one and a half seconds longer than he's been getting, and his heart flutters in his chest. This happened last night too, all the hope building high, all the love swelling, and it only broke him more by the end. A part of him wonders if he should stop, do what he didn't yesterday and walk away in case this goes south.
But that would mean turning his back to Jey Uso. And he's not sure he's capable of doing that anymore.
"Kidding," He says, casually wiping his sweaty palms against the sheets. "I've only got raging, infectious genital herpes."
Jey shoots him the same look, this time lingering, the corners of his lips twitching upward the longer he stares.
"Kidding."
The twin fully smiles, filling Sami with confidence. "Does that mean I got it now?"
"Maybe," Sami shrugs. "But I'm sure the Prep H poster boy wouldn't have an issue becoming the H Clear spokesman."
"Why do you know the name of the herpes cream?"
"Because I'm a supportive trophy husband?"
"Trophy monkey," Jey corrects. "And I'm pretty sure I said I wanted to see those cymbals."
"Rentals, Jey, rentals."
"You're a liar then," Jey sinks lower against the pillows, turning onto his left shoulder to face Sami. "You promised you'd bring 'em."
"And you promised you'd stalk me," Sami fakes a pout. "Guess we both didn't get what we wanted."
It feels a little weird talking to Jey like this, even after he's fully accepted and comprehended he's Jule. For so long, his conversations with Jey--if they can even be classified that way--have led to arguments and bruises. The tranquility in the moment and the brilliance in his eyes is unusual...but not unwelcome, seeing as Sami's not burdened with grief for the first time in days.
Jey hums in discontent, tugging the sheets higher up as he mumbles, "Steven would give me what I want."
He's sure to watch for the way Sami's lively eyes darken, enjoying the jealousy far too much. A couple thoughts slither through the cracks, shaming him for it, causing his smile to waver as his gut twists.
Sami interrupts it before it can get too far, turning his body to Jey and jutting his foot against his shin. The burst of pain causes him to grit out a swear, dropping his forehead against the mattress as he brings his leg to his chest.
"That's what you get. Stop bringing him up."
"He doesn't even exist," Jey groans out, massaging the sore spot.
"Yeah?" Sami mutters, watching him writhe before sinking a hand into his curls and gently rubbing to soothe him. "And that bruise wouldn't exist if you didn't make him up."
Jey peeks up at Sami, propped up on his elbow as he watches on with a smirk, which widens when their eyes meet.
"I wouldn't have to make him up if..." Jey begins, a playful edge in his voice that makes Sami raise an eyebrow and cock back his foot.
"You wanna finish that sentence?" Sami dares.
"...if you could actually get me off."
The older sends his leg forward into nothing, narrowly missing Jey as he scrambles up the bed. Sami position tilts with the power of the motion, falling off his elbow and against the mattress, mindlessly tightening his grip on the dark hair to catch himself. Jey doesn't feel it, forward momentum pulling him in that direction anyway, crashing against Sami's torso as he laughs between mocking jests.
Sami giggles along mindlessly, finding more enjoyment in observing Jey rather than egging him on.
His smile is charming; pearly whites and pink lips, a missing tooth on one side that's uniquely perfect, contorting every so often as he attempts to speak, but too resilient to budge.
The way he can barely hold himself up, head falling onto Sami's shirt, shoulders convulsing as he laughs. His hands splay across Sami's waist and chest, heat seeping through the layers, fingers occasionally tugging at the fabric as he cracks himself up.
It makes Sami conscious of his own hands. One still buried in Jey's mullet, wafts of his shampoo--vaguely medicinal?--and conditioner--maybe coconut?--hitting his nose every second. His other is ghosting Jey's hip, keeping him steady while he works his way through his hysterics.
Sami feels like he's been staring for minutes, time slowing down and warping around them. In reality, it's only been ten seconds, which he realizes is far too fast when their eyes eventually meet.
He can physically see when the reality of the situation hits Jey, the sparkle in his eyes mattifying as his breath catches in his throat.
Every cell in his body wants to pull Jey closer, assure him that everything is okay through soft whispers and gentle brushes in his hair. But he can't risk pushing his luck. One wrong move, and he scares Jey off for good.
The younger climbs off Sami and distances himself back across the bed. Sami's almost positive it's over, that he's going to mumble something about Sami leaving and never speak about this moment again. That the only proof Sami will ever have is in his head and in his heart. That this will be the last good night of the year, of his life.
And while those words don't come in the thirty silent seconds of tension that follow, it's enough for Sami to leave on his own, spare himself from any more heartache--if that's even in the cards anymore.
His feet hit the carpet, arms trembling as he attempts to find the strength and courage to pull himself out of Jey's bed.
"Where'd you--uh--" Jey blurts, eyes blank when Sami turns back to him.
He's got no idea what he's trying to say. His mind was back waging war on his heart, conflicting thoughts tangling in his brain without end. It wasn't until he felt the bed shift under Sami's fleeing weight that his heart won, his mouth opening heedlessly to keep Sami from leaving.
What follows is billows of black smoke spewing from his ears as his head works in overdrive. Trying to come up with something to say against the screaming voices tearing him to pieces.
"Where'd you come up with the name?" He manages, relief washing over him when he watches Sami kick his feet back up and lay against the pillows.
"Miza?" He questions.
The name itself is enough to send a bolt of electricity down Jey's spine, but Sami's voice saying it has the shocks curling around his ribs. He knows he's hated that voice since he first heard it, but he really can't remember why anymore.
Sami has this unique tone, a mix of formal and friendly, precise and warm, clear and engaging. He has an inflection on some words, almost an accent nipping at certain vowels and constanants. Jey feels like he can't get enough of it now, desperate to hear him talk, willing to listen to him read the dictionary cover to cover if that's what it takes.
But he can't say all that. How could he even begin? It's a truth he can barely think about before he runs himself through the wringer for it. He has to settle for something else, anything else--as long as it keeps Sami here.
"Yeah."
If Jey could freeze time for a second, he'd slap himself across the face for how genuinely ridiculous he sounds. Hell, maybe he'll even do it now. Hitting himself in front of Sami can't be more embarrassing than the pitiful squeaky response he just gave. He could probably explain the slap better anyway.
It doesn't seem like Sami's lingering on it like he is, the redhead tilting his head side to side as he lands on an answer.
"It's honestly kinda lame," He chuckles to himself slightly, a tad bashful. "I'm not very creative so I just took the last two letters of my first name, and the first two letters of my last."
Jey furrows his brows, too taxed and exhausted to keep up. "What?"
"Like, when you say Sami Zayn, you get Miza in the middle. Sa-mi Za-yn. Mi-Za."
His nerves--and heart--melt at the brightness in Jey's eyes when it finally clicks. "What do you mean you ain't creative? That's smart. I just did my old nickname."
"Well, I couldn't exactly do that. El Generico isn't the most secretive or seductive of names."
"I dunno," Jey shrugs. "I'd be intrigued."
"Yeah?" Sami smirks. "Should I go dig out the mask?"
"You still have it?"
"Probably not," He turns onto his side, stretching out, releasing a quiet hum of content before continuing. "But I'd find it for you."
Jey's pretty sure Sami isn't intending to be enticing, probably just sore and tired from the day, but it's suddenly impossible to think about anything that isn't that stretch.
It's something about him extending his limbs out; defining the muscles on his arms, far bigger than they appear, the hem of his sleeves tightening over his bicep in a way that's beyond memorable, staining the back of Jey's eyelids.
Or maybe it's the way his shirt rode up his stomach, revealing soft abs and a happy trail that make Jey feel faint.
Possibly, it's the little noise he made unknowingly in delight of the sensation, unaware that it's echoing in Jey's ears.
Regardless, the Uso is completely enraptured, losing grip on his control as he slides down the bed, resting his cheek opposite of Sami's on the pillow.
It takes Sami aback slightly, taking shallow breaths during pauses of his stammering heart, once again overwhelmed by worry of scaring Jey away with any movements he makes.
The younger twin is like a feral cat, it seems; loving and fragile and beautiful, but all buried beneath trauma and fear, wrapped up in anger, and coated with defensiveness.
He's displaying a rare act of vulnerability, teetering on the edge of willingness to give himself up. It's all so close, so tangible, right there for the taking. But it's not that easy, it never is. Sami's walking on egg shells, skating on thin ice, playing with fire, hanging by a thread, throwing caution to the wind, flirting with danger.
This is the biggest risk he'll ever take. One false move and Jey's clawing his eyes out. But if he can play his cards just right, he'll have the greatest reward.
"I still can't believe you think Pixar is mid," Sami whispers.
"It is," Jey grins. "You see Encanto last year?"
"Did you see Luca last year?" Sami counters.
The younger narrows his eyes, smile continuing to tug upward on his lips. "Nah."
"You liked it," Sami gasps, sitting up and poking at the tattooed shoulder. "You liked it!"
"Did not!" Jey giggles, swatting Sami away, failing as the Canadian moves into his space, grabbing at him and shaking.
"You don't think it's mid!"
"It was actually the most mid movie ever!"
"You liked it!"
"Did not!"
"Admit it, admit it--Silenzio Bruno!" Sami quotes, ducking to the side when Jey attempts to shove his face away. "Admit it!"
"We ain't suppose to talk 'bout Bruno!" Jey laughs, managing to push Sami back to his side of the bed.
"You can say what you want," Sami sighs. "But I already know you liked it."
"Can't prove it."
The blinding glimmer in his eyes is striking against the deep, indulgent brown of his irises. It's a siren song, paired with a charming smile, luring Sami deeper in attachment.
He feels woozy, the passing seconds melting his brain into a puddle, everything becoming fuzzy around the edges. It's intoxicating, like these two special moments and six unforgettable minutes with Jey Uso were two overpoured cocktails and six shots of tequila. The world slows around him, thoughts blowing away like dandelion tufts until one remains stuck to the stem.
Kiss him.
Jey has steadied back against the pillow now; breathing level, face neutralizing back to round eyes and permanent pout, fingers mindlessly toying with his chain.
Kiss him.
The thought intensifies the more he looks on, a desperate want becoming a crucial need. Like every moment of his life--every choice he's made, every person he's met, every contract he's signed, every triumph and pitfall he's experienced--has all been for this moment right here.
Kiss him.
Sami can't help himself, crossing into no man's land as he leans across the pillow, daring to close the gap between them completely. Just an inch shy of salvation, Jey's breathing hitches and he backs away, staring back at Sami with alarm.
And just like that, it's over again. Sami's heart shrivels inside his chest, face heating as he sits up and stutters over a response.
"I-I-I'm sorry--Jey, I'm sorry--" He shakes his head, blinking fast in hopes the tears stay coating his eyes instead of his cheeks. "God, I'm so, so sorry."
Jey hates the voices in his head a lot. They're persistent and relentless, black widow spiders weaving lies to tangle him up in. They crawl on him wherever he goes, striving to ruin anything he does.
But he hates nothing more than watching Sami scramble over an apology he doesn't owe, voice wavering, thick and throaty as he attempts to dam back the flood of emotions within him.
It's agonizing to watch. Every cell in his body--down to the damn mitochondria--yearning to end this awful display. Jey's back in the trenches, his head taking another stand against his heart, spiders spinning a tale so twisted he's bound to listen.
"That was stupid--so stupid--Jey, I'm sorry," Sami kicks away the sheets. "Fuck, I-I'm sorry."
He's leaving. Jey's weakness--the voices' weakness, a duster brush to their webs, freeing Jey in time to grab a handful of Sami's shirt.
The redhead turns, eyes large and glassy, preparing to spew more apols, maybe brace for a punch. But Jey doesn't let him do either, tugging him into his space and pressing their lips together.
It's a tad awkward at first, both of them surprised with the action Jey took, but neither willing to pull away. There's a couple seconds where the kiss is messy and choppy, working to find their rhythm.
When they do find it, it's dizzying, dopamine rushing, ringing in their skulls like winning the jackpot in a casino.
Sami has to have him closer, hand reaching to cup his jaw, pulling away as soon as he feels Jey's beard, nose throbbing in reminder of the last time he risked doing that.
Jey wants him closer, exhaling sharply when Sami's touch flees. He brings his hands to either side of Sami's head, an invitation, a promise, a plea. The instant compliance of Sami's warmth returning is intoxicating.
Their lips aren't enough, their hands aren't enough. He spent months pushing Sami as far away as humanely possible, and now he's starving to feel him against every part of his body. His hands fall to Sami's shoulders, fingers flexing against the deltoid muscles as he encroaches further into his personal space.
Sami doesn't seem to mind at all, free hand sliding up Jey's hip, along his waist, and settling at the curve of his spine, gentle pressure there directing Jey into his lap. Electricity buzzes in the wake of his path, his skin burning hot but far too cold where Sami isn't touching.
They'd probably kiss until they both passed out if it wasn't for Sami gently unlatching Jey from his mouth, inching back ever so slightly to get a look--confirmation this isn't just in his imagination.
And it's not. Not when he can feel Jey's heart pounding against his chest. Not when he can see his big eyes, lust blown and all pupils. Not when he can hear Jey's labored exhales and subtle whines. Not when he can smell the shampoo in his hair and deodorant under his arms. Not when he can taste the minty toothpaste lingering in his mouth.
This is real.
Jey leans down and connects them back together, fifteen second is not enough to make up for months of hatred. Sami licks at his lips, granted immediate access.
This is real.
Alhamd lilah, this is real.
Notes:
Alhamd lilah: Thank God
THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER!!
YOU ALL CAN FINALLY BREATHE NOW
(I'm cheering because I can finally write them happy again)
Chapter 13: Raising Suspicion
Summary:
Sami and Jey attempt to keep up apperances while still honoring their growing relationship. Jey's subtle change in behavior is enough to put him on Jimmy's radar.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jimmy raps his usual pattern into the door, idling for a second before jamming the keycard into the mechanism. It dings with a glowing green light, the lock sliding out of place and allowing entry inside.
He hesitates in the doorway when he's greeted oddly with the blinding morning sunlight illuminating the room. More suspiciously, the bed is made, bags are packed, and his little brother is wide awake in the bathroom running styling gel through his mullet.
"Mornin'," He says calmly, tilting his head slightly to scrunch the curls in the back.
Jimmy's almost terrified as he enters into the room, setting his bags aside before taking cautious steps into the bathroom.
Jey looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "You 'ight?"
It sounds just like Jey. It looks just like Jey. But this can't be Jey. Absolutely not Jey.
Being awake already? Odd, but it happens sometimes.
Doing his hair? Weird, especially on a travel day, but they always meet fans.
Making his bed and packing his bags, all before ten? Definitely a killer clone pretending to be his twin.
"Who are you?" Jimmy asks slowly.
Jey deflates and rolls his eyes. "Shut the hell up."
The older isn't totally convinced. "What have you done with Jey?"
"Shut up!" Jey groans, grabbing the bottle of gel and throwing it halfheartedly at his brother's shoulder.
Jimmy dodges. "You made the bed!"
"We were raised to do that!"
"But we're in a hotel, you ain't supposed to make the bed!" His eyes widen as he gestures wildly to the crisp sheets. "That's the fun of it! You ain't gotta make the bed!"
"And!?" Jey scoffs, wiping his hands on a towel instead of his shirt, almost enough to cause Jimmy to sob. "Are the housekeepers gonna hunt me down for making their lives easier!?"
Jimmy steps dramatically back when Jey exits the bathroom, gaining another exaggerated sigh. "Where's my brooding little brother?"
"You complain when I'm sad and you complain when I'm happy," Jey mutters grabbing his gel bottle and jamming it into his duffle. "What do you want from me?"
"I ain't mad that you're happy but you're actin' weird, man!" Jimmy frowns. "Look at you!"
Jey stares down at his outfit, carefully picked this morning after he awoke to the smell of Sami still on his pillow. He'd normally just throw on any old pair of sweats and whatever shirt he touches first. But today, he feels rejuvenated, he has a real reason to dress better, look better, feel better.
He really didn't think what he picked would garner any attention over his usual attire anyway. Deep in his bag, he found a long sleeve grey henley shirt and a nicer pair of black joggers he got from Solo last Christmas. It's barely any different, still athleisure, still casual, still inconspicuous.
Well--inconspicuous to everyone but his other half, who knows him better than he knows himself based on the way he scans the attire in disbelief.
"What about it?" Jey plays dumb. "It's a shirt and joggers. Roman wore the same thing last week."
"Yeah, but that's Roman," Jimmy circles around him. "You been wearin' the same hoodie with that toothpaste stain for a week."
This is getting tiring. He waits until his brother is back in front of his face before he questions, "What are you getting at?"
Jimmy pauses, still eyeing Jey up and down. "If you're not an imposter--"
The accusation makes Jey scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which I'm not."
"--then who are you tryna impress?"
The speculation makes his stomach drop in the sort of way that reminds him he's never getting off this rollercoaster of emotions, regardless of if he's with Sami or not.
"That might be more ridiculous than the imposter thing," Jey deflects, rushing away from his brother's eyes to grab his bags. "Stop bein' dumb and let's go."
Suddenly, Jimmy's more pressing than ever, rushing between Jey and his bags with a knowing smile. "Who are you tryna impress?"
"Get out the way," Jey grumbles.
"They were sendin' you those texts on Sunday, weren't they!?" He squeals. "Who is it!?"
God save him. He can't have a single secret around his twin. They Bluetooth connect to each other's brains every time they're together. Which is only fun when he does it to Jimmy. The other way around is just wildly irritating.
"Jimmy, stop! You're excited over nothin'!"
He's lying. Sami isn't nothing. Sami's everything. They spent ten entire minutes connected at the lips last night, his skin is still buzzing at the memory of Sami's hands against it.
He still can't believe he ever hated Sami, that anxiety vented out into whispered apologies between kisses.
And he still can't believe Sami forgives him for it all, just shaking his head and promising it's okay, gently guiding them back together.
As hard as this last week has been for him, experiencing his lowest low, it doesn't hold a candle to how hard it was to let Sami leave last night. They both knew he couldn't stay, the risk of sleeping in too late and being caught by anyone was too great, but neither wanted to be the first to let go.
"It's not nothin'," Jimmy counters. "You've been all upset these last few days and now you're happy again," He finally steps aside, granting Jey some relief. "I just want to thank them is all."
It's almost enough for Jey to give in, explain everything through lovesick giggles, just like how Jimmy did when he met Naomi all those years ago. But he still can't shake the burden of his newfound sexuality, at its heaviest when he's near his loved ones, the scariest people to tell, the hardest people to lose.
"Thank yourself," Jey offers a smile. "You always help me through rough patches."
He hopes it'll be enough to switch the gears in Jimmy's mind, distracting him from rifling too far into Jey's romance. But he's far too hopeful, and his brother is far too persistent.
"Thank you, me," He says fast, raising an eyebrow. "Now tell me who your new boo is."
Jey snags his bags, moving past his brother and out the door. "Don't have one."
"Liar," Jimmy follows behind, grabbing his own on the way.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No--"
"It is ten in the mornin'," Roman's voice projects down the empty hallway, causing both brothers to stop and turn. He peers at them from around the corner by the elevators, a playful grin on his lips. "Why are y'all arguing this early?"
"When are they not arguin'?" Solo pokes his head out beside him.
It's enough to diffuse their disagreement, signature smiles finding the twins' faces as they start toward the others. While Jimmy eagerly begins discussing the oddities in Jey's behavior, thankfully leaving out the last three minutes or so, Jey can't help but round the corner quick, hoping to see Sami hanging behind.
His disappointment almost reaches his face when the landing is clear of any cute redheads. Displeasure rumbles deep in his soul, cursing himself for any time he took spending the entire day with Sami for granted.
They pile into the elevator a couple seconds later, fitting comfortably in their own respective corners. Usually, there's a little bit of tightness when Sami's with them, so standing with his bags pressed to his leg is almost muscle memory. He eyes the group, hoping someone asks where Sami is.
"Are we gettin' breakfast?" Jimmy questions in the silence.
"No time," Solo shakes his head.
"Our flight ain't until noon though?"
"Yeah, but the Houston Airport is always crazy," Roman adds. "I have some snacks in my bag," He pulls open a zipper.
It makes Jey smile watching Roman open up the bag of assorted snacks, Solo and Jimmy crowding around him like hungry pigeons, pecking their hands into the bag until they're satisfied.
"Want anything?" Roman opens the bag toward Jey when his scavenger brothers return to their places.
Jey looks to his siblings, balancing the packages, slipping them into available pockets in their pants and bags. The bright blue wrapper in his older brother's hand catches his eye.
"Yeah," He nods. "Can I have some fruit snacks?"
"Of course," Roman searches in the snacks, eyebrows furrowing after a couple seconds. "I thought I had one more..." He mumbles softly.
After five more seconds, the elevator grounds and Roman peers up at him pitifully, "I think I'm all out."
It almost makes Jey regret asking for the snack at all. He can't stand to see the disappointment in Roman's voice, the sinking of his shoulders, the immediate self soothing method of nibbling at his lips, as if he somehow failed.
"It's alright," Jey assures, turning to frown at his twin. "Gimme the last one."
"No way," Jimmy scoffs. "He offered me the snacks first."
"But you ate all of 'em."
Roman chimes in as the elevator doors open, focused on rummaging through his bag for a replacement. "Jey, I got Fudge Stripes."
"That's not my problem, you shoulda got a pack sooner."
"...Cheez-Its, Goldfish..."
"You got fifteen other things to eat, give me them!"
"They're mine!"
"...Nutri-Grain bars, Cliff Bars..."
"Y'all just never stop arguing, do you?" Solo's eyes bounce back and forth between the Usos.
"You never share! You're so greedy!"
"...Oreos, Ruffles..."
"I been sharin' with you my whole life!"
Solo sighs, no end in sight for the argument. "Come on, Roman," He presses a hand to Roman's back, nudging him past the bickering brothers and out of the elevator.
Roman's still preoccupied in the snack bag, one hand pushing through crinkling wrappers, the other guiding his suitcase as he stumbles along beside Solo.
"Then this ain't new!" Jey reaches for the package, missing as Jimmy dodges out of the elevator. "Jimmy, give it!"
Jimmy holds it behind his back as he retrieves his bags, glaring at his twin the entire time. "I will give it to you if--"
Jey lunges again, pushing Jimmy into the wall for leverage. His brother groans, struggling against him, attempting to wiggle free. He can feel the plastic against his fingertips, but before he can latch on, Jimmy knocks him backward onto his ass.
"If," Jimmy emphasizes, slow and stern, like an adult reprimanding a child. Jey watches from the ground, teeth clenched and lip curled. "You tell me who you're talking to."
It's abundantly clear he's not off Jimmy's radar, the passing minutes and events doing nothing to shake the mystery from his mind. As much as he hates to admit it, he's done the exact same thing numerous times throughout their life.
Knowing Jimmy has a secret he won't share is like forgetting the password to his own account, submitting an endless series of attempts to get into it. Or failing to recall something, the vague idea sticking to the forefront of his thoughts until he can figure it out. Overall, just more annoying than anything.
There's no reason to believe Jimmy is feeling anything different over Jey's secret. They're just one person split into two bodies, halves to a whole, ying and yang.
They function best like that, whether they care to admit it or not, so it disrupts their entire system when something isn't shared knowledge between them.
"There's nothin'," Jey lies.
Unfortunately, this isn't something Jey can just spit out. It's deep rooted and lengthy, far too many layers to peel back in the few moments they have before Solo returns to drag them both to checkout.
Beyond the time constraint, he'd have to come out to his brother, the thought itself causing his heart to race. And sharing their story would out his lover too, and he couldn't do that to Sami.
"You lie like a damn rug," Jimmy frowns.
Jey grunts out a swear as he pulls himself off the ground, snatching his bags with a huff. "I don't even want 'em anymore," He brushes past his twin, masking his shaky exhale by running a hand down his face.
Jimmy doesn't say anything else as they walk toward the front desk, instead choosing to loudly eat the package of fruit snacks while they wait, crinkling the wrapper unnecessarily.
Solo and Roman have already checked out, the younger arranging their pickup while the older continues to look through his bag. Jey's just sliding his keys over the countertop when Roman exclaims out, holding up the ever elusive last pack of fruit snacks with the grandest smile.
"I knew I had one more!"
The anxiety in his chest unravels, walking over to Roman with a matching grin. "I love you."
"I'll buy some more when we get to Cheyenne and keep some in a separate pocket for you," He winks, the weight of disappointment lifted from his shoulders, freeing him to go seek out the car with Solo.
"Guess you were bitchin' for nothin'," Jimmy walks up beside him, smacking on the gummies.
"You're an asshole."
"At least I don't keep secrets from you."
Jey's eyes widen in disbelief. "There's no secret!"
Jimmy shakes the last of the bag into his mouth, balling up the wrapper and jamming it into the mesh pocket of his brother's backpack. "Liar," He mutters, marching off to avoid the protest.
●●●
"Shit!" Jimmy hisses, curling more toward Jey.
They're huddled together as they walk, bracing against the cold wind, the sun shining above doing nothing to warm them.
Unspoken twin rule: All arguments are temporarily forgiven when they're about to die from hypothermia.
"It's kinda jarring going from Houston to this," Roman shivers, jacket sleeves hooked over his hands as he rolls his suitcase down the sidewalk.
"Fuckin' hate the cold," Solo mumbles, head down and hoodie up to protect his face, watching Roman's shoes for guidance.
Jey's eyes dart over at Sami, who walks against the blow entirely unphased, not even trembling under his thin long sleeve.
Sami joined them back in the terminal, where they stole looks at one another, sometimes meeting eyes and having to swallow back giggles. At one point, Jey stood up and announced he was going to the bathroom before the flight boarded, giving a subtle nod to Sami to follow shortly after.
The plan was pretty smart, a way for them both to expell some of their buzzing excitement. But it was over before it could begin when Roman decided he'd tag along, saying something about always having to pee a hundred times before a flight. Or at least that's what Jey thinks he said, he couldn't really hear it over the frustrated screaming in his head.
"I see the car," Roman points to their black rental, a smiling driver standing by the hood in a thick flannel.
"Thank god," Jimmy sighs. "Tell him to turn on the heat!"
Jey nods along, unable to stop his teeth from chattering long enough to vocally agree. His left hand feels numb, fingers locked around his bag, so frozen and brittle they may snap off the moment he attempts to move. Thankfully his right is tucked away in his pocket, safe until further notice.
They're not made for this weather; all of them long-time Florida natives, where the temperatures barely dip past sixty this time of year. Cheyenne, Wyoming is currently sitting in the low forties, wind chill sinking it by a few degrees.
Well--all of them but Sami, who strolls along like it's a beautiful spring afternoon, far too comfortable in the frigid air.
"Come on, y'all," Solo huffs, lifting his bags into the trunk, offering up a hand to the rest.
"Go 'head, Solo," Jimmy nudges him toward the back doors. "I got it."
They're all frentic, speaking to one another in quick breaths between tremulous shivers, trying to get their shit in the car before they freeze.
"Just set your stuff down and warm up," Sami waves them off. "I got the bags."
It's chivalrous, heating a tiny pit in Jey's heart, probably the only warm spot he's got right now.
"You ain't cold?" Jimmy asks, bewildered when Sami shakes his head.
Jimmy hums out in disbelief, grabbing Jey's arm and walking him away from the trunk, mumbling under his breath. "Motherfucker was raised by penguins or somethin'."
He rushes Jey into the back row, pushing on his ass to go faster, nearly knocking him over. Jey takes a second before settling to look back at Sami, piling the bags into free spaces, completely unbothered by the gusts nipping at his rosy cheeks and nose.
For a moment, when Sami reaches up to balance the last backpack onto Roman's duffle, their eyes meet. The twinkle in Sami's irises is enough for Jey's heart to skip sporadically, desire settling deep in his gut when the trunk closes, only satisfied when Sami crawls over Solo and into the back with him.
They stare at each other for too long, practically blowing their cover, entirely transfixed. It's the closest they've been to each other since last night, and it suddenly feels impossible not to reach over and connect at every inch again.
Jey forces himself to look away when Jimmy says something about turning up the heat, remembering how much of a snoop his brother is being. His hands tremble as he buckles himself in, missing the slot a couple of times.
"At least we're only here 'til Tuesday," Roman smiles, a tad pained as he forces back his violent shivering.
"Minneapolis ain't gon' be much better," Jimmy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Think warm thought, think warm thoughts--"
"Jey's right," Solo frowns. "You are dramatic as hell sometimes."
"I can see my breath in this car," Jimmy growls. "That ain't bein' dramatic, that's bein' reasonable."
Mindlessly, Jey exhales, the warmth condensating in the cold air and creating a fog in front of him. It somehow makes him colder, sinking down in his seat, clenching and unclenching his left hand in hopes to send blood there.
His jacket does nothing to warm him, his thickest still being far too thin for this weather, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the hints of heat starting to seep out from the vents.
It's hard to control the rattling of his teeth and the quiver of his muscles, a frustrating reminder that he'll have to endure this for another couple of months as autumn passes and winter arrives.
Just as he begins to think he won't find any relief, a warmth drapes over his frozen hand, settling between his fingers and brushing gently over his skin.
He thinks it's a miracle, but it's just Sami's hand laced with his own. Jey stares at him for a couple seconds, overcome with a mix of surprise and fondness. The older doesn't pay him any mind, staring casually out the window, the pink blush rising to his cheeks melting perfectly in with the effects of the cold.
It technically still is a miracle. The tiny pocket of heat in his heart expands rapidly, blood rising to molten temperatures, expedited through his entire body. He flushes from his ears to his toes before turning away, using his free hand to tug his hoodie down over his face.
In all his years of living, in all his years of relationships and flings, the act of merely holding someone's hand has never elicited such a response from him. This reaction is full body; his skin searing, his bones rattling, his muscles twitching, his stomach fluttering, his lungs failing, his mouth drying.
It's almost embarrassing actually, worsened with his nerves spiking at the reminder of his nosy twin, observant brother, and involved cousin all in the car. He keeps his hood over the top half of his face as a fail safe in case any of them happen to look back.
Sami gives his hand a squeeze, silent assurance, mindlessly caressing whatever skin his thumb can touch throughout the car ride. At one point, Jey thinks he's leveled out enough to lift his face, but taking a brave glance over to Sami proves him entirely wrong.
The redhead was already looking at him, just admiring for however long. Sami's features light up when their eyes meet, like a flower blooming.
Jey looks away fast, feeling like a teenager with a consuming crush, every little moment making his heart swell and burst. His eyes stay downcast until the car stops in front of their hotel, his hand unfortunately returning to his side, finally warm but the coldest it's ever felt.
Roman opens his door, wincing as the breeze hits him. "I'll never get used to this."
Solo follows suit, mumbling out a swear, turning to Jimmy as he pouts at his door, still closed. "What are you doin'?"
"It's too cold," Jimmy whines.
"Quit bein' a pussy and get out," The blond mocks before walking off.
It doesn't sway the older Uso, who wrinkles his nose and scans around for another solution. He brightens when he lands on Sami.
"Hey, penguin-boy," Jimmy hangs on the back of his seat, flashing a charming smile.
The Canadian cocks his head, speaking slow in confusion. "Did...you just call me--"
"Never mind that," He waves him off. "Can you get my bags out the back and bring them to my door?"
Sami's still a little lost, but he just nods. "Okay."
Anger threatens to spill from Jey's lips, rumbling in his chest, itching on his tongue. Jimmy treating Sami like a chauffeur makes him sick. He wants to speak up, call out his brother's behavior and defend Sami's honor. It's nauseating knowing he can't.
Thankfully, Roman corrects Jimmy for him, pulling his door open from the outside with a smirk. "I think you'll make it the thirty seconds, Jim."
Jimmy groans out like a vampire in the sun, ignoring Roman's backhanded support as he scrambles to get his shit and go.
"Thanks, Ro," Jey grunts as he hops out from the back. "Thought he was gon' keep me back there with Sami forever."
He makes sure to say it with an attitude--grateful he's learned how to turn it on and off over the years as needed--because Roman's very attentive. Any shift in his tone, regardless of how subtle, will be noticed and questioned. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Roman brings it up to headquarters (Jimmy), and Jey will be cornered like prey between his cousin and brother.
It's imperative he doesn't fuck this up. Too much or too little emotion could send Roman running, and Jimmy already has an inclination that something is amiss. He doesn't need to give his twin any ammunition.
He's lucky that Roman doesn't suspect a thing, smiling at the disgust in Jey's voice. "Such a first world problem."
"If it ain't so bad, you sit in the back wit' him next time."
"The Tribal Chief gets shotgun every time," Roman places a hand over his heart, gripping his jacket in faux agony. "It's a burden I must bear for this group."
"You're an asshole, y'know that, right?"
The older giggles, eyes catching on Sami, who peeks his head around the SUV. "Hey, Roman, I got your bags out!"
He walks the suitcase over, the duffle and backpack balance safely atop, delivering it to their leader as he juggles his own bags.
"Thanks, Sami," Roman beams, looking briefly to Jey with a "How can you hate him?" expression on his features.
That changes quickly when Sami's eyes shift to Jey, as if just noticing him. "Your stuff's still in the back," He mutters coarsely before turning on his heel.
Jey wrinkles his nose and tightens his jaw, forcing down the laughter that tickles up his throat. Normally, he'd say some shit back and stir the pot, but he can't trust himself to open his mouth. Instead, he eyes Sami with as much hatred as his lovestruck heart can muster until Roman chases after the redhead to scold him.
"No matter how hard you try," Solo rests a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention to pass along his bags. "Looks can't actually kill."
Jey grabs them with a huff. "I wish they would."
Thank god they don't.
Notes:
Cut this chapter a little short since I didn't want it to run too long! :) I've got a fun little activity planned for next chapter! Looking forward to finishing and posting that for you guys!
Thanks so much for your love and support, divas! Mwah mwah! <3
Chapter 14: Chipped
Summary:
Jey and Sami finally make good on the dinner date that never was
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jey's stomach does a gymnastics routine as he leaves his room, walking toward the elevator as casually as he can.
It twirls while he waits, flips while he rides, and twists when the doors open to the lobby. He overthinks every little thing from this point on; the resting expression on his face, the cadence of his arms swinging in time with his legs, the path he takes toward the exit.
There's no reason to be so rehearsed. He's not a teenager sneaking out of his house. He's an adult leaving a public hotel on his own free will, barely getting any attention whatsoever. But it still feels like everyone's eyes are on him, looking through him. Like they know why he's leaving, and they're going to race off to the presses the moment he's out of earshot.
The beads of sweat on his forehead turn to ice when he steps into the bitter night. Or, at least it feels like they do, the cold giving him a temporary distraction from his fears.
"Shit!" He shivers, pulling his sleeves over palms and wiping himself free of moisture.
While he walks toward the side of the building, the howling wind cuts through his hoodie like it's nothing, earning another pained swear from his lips.
He told himself in January that he was going to get a nice winter jacket after everything went on sale before summer. But here he is several months later, shivering the same crap jacket that almost froze him last year.
His pace slows as he approaches the corner, taking a casual glance around for any witnesses before he peeks beyond the wall. Sami's there, just like they planned, leaning against the bricks with his hands in his pockets, tapping his sneakers against the pavement.
Ever since arriving yesterday afternoon, they've been brainstorming ways to spend more than just ten minutes in the early morning hours together. Sami wanted to cash in the raincheck on their initial first date, but Jey worried it was too risky.
So, Sami, being the people pleaser he is, mapped out every detail of the date--down to the staggered times they leave and return to their rooms--to ensure their cover stays under wraps and Jey's anxiety stays at bay.
The more good he sees in Sami, the more like an idiot he feels. All those months of toxic lonelines; cold beds, quiet rooms, dark thoughts. All those months plagued by his own hatred. All those months, the poison was the cure.
Sami nibbles on the inside of his cheek, looking down at his shoes, humming along to the rhythm they set.
"Hey," He whispers, gaining the attention of the redhead as he scurries over.
"You made it," Sami jests, immediately wrapping Jey into a hug when he's within distance. "Surprised Jimmy hasn't chipped you yet."
Jey laughs, muscles relaxing as he melts against Sami, heat radiating between them. He would be satisfied permanently residing in Sami's arms until they get the hell out of this godforsaken city. It's still appalling how Sami is almost entirely unphased by the weather, but he's happy to take whatever warmth Sami has to spare.
"I'm sure he has," Jey says. "I knew that beer he gave me two weeks ago tasted weird."
Sami smiles into his hair, unable to stop himself from planting a kiss there. "Well, then let's get going before he notices you're gone."
It's grueling to pull away from Sami, taking every ounce of his courage to do it. Body already craving the connection in its absence, like the only thing carrying him through is the hope they'll touch again.
He's wildly lucky Sami's the same level of clingy, grabbing ahold of his hand immediately after they start toward the sidewalk, silently satisfying them both.
The city is settling down at this hour, the moon rising in the sky, watching over the few cars on the quiet road. Sami swings their arms while they walk, rambling blissfully about when he and Kevin visited Yellowstone years ago.
The story is almost impossible to follow, Sami flying off on seven different tangents and then five more branching off from each of those. But Jey's attention stays on it wholly, laughing along with Sami over memories he wasn't there for, eager to one day be a part of the ones he'll recall in the future.
When the red LED sign comes into view, the chosen location of the fast food date they both promised to have days ago, Jey feels excited electricity twitch at his muscles.
Last Tuesday, he wanted absolutely nothing more than this moment, sitting down across from Miza over cheap food. Last Thursday, he would've rather given himself an unmedicated root canal than have a meal with his most despised enemy.
But here he is now, just as excited for the date with full knowledge it's Sami. Possibly even more excited, especially when Sami releases his hand and rushes to the door to open it for him.
"What a gentleman," Jey muses as he walks in.
"Yeah, I thought I'd try something new," Sami smirks.
He can feel Sami's hand graze his, wishing to reconnect, but it just hesitates in the air around it as they survey the restaurant. It's nearly empty at this hour, most people far too lazy to leave their cars for the inside seating, instead rolling into the drive-thru to satisfy their cravings.
It's better that way. Less people, less attention, more space, more loving. They order together, on one tab, the first of hopefully many date nights. Jey's lovestruck, staring at Sami as he orders his salad, imagining them doing this in the future; with rings, with kids, with canes--
His thoughts stutter to a stop as he forces his daydreams back down to reality.
God, get it together, Jey
"Let me pay," Jey stops Sami as the older grabs his wallet.
"No," Sami scoffs like it's the most preposterous thing he's ever heard.
Jey has a feeling his payment will always be rejected if Sami's around, just like Roman. At some point, he can't help but feel like a freeloader, regardless of their assurance. If he can pay for even one date a month, he'd feel better about himself.
"I'd be my honor to pay for our first date," Jey proclaims.
Sami looks on with a cherishing grin. "Yeah?"
Jey nods, melting under the adoring heat of his gaze. Sami plucks the card from Jey's fingers, tucking it right into his back pocket before pulling out his own and handing it to the worker.
He chuckles at Jey's astonishment. "I'd be my honor to not let you."
"That's messed up."
"I promised I'd pay for it," Sami defends himself, grabbing his card and receipt. "You should've expected that."
"Then I get next time," Jey declares, reaching into Sami's pocket to retrieve his card.
The redhead raises his eyebrows as he does, slapping a hand over his chest in exaggerated shock. "Touching my ass on the first date? Oh my god," He teases, drawing out the vowel.
"Shut up," He shoves him halfheartedly through giggles. "You're so fuckin' stupid."
Sami stumbles laughing against a booth, catching himself before plopping down in the seat. Jey slides in across from him, shaking his head, taking another cautious glance around the room before returning his attention to Sami.
"Technically," Jey begins, fidgeting with the plastic. "Touching your ass ain't the fastest we moved."
The grin on Sami's face tugs higher on the corners of his lips, pale face flushing at the memory of their second night together.
Jey's not immune to it either, especially when Sami's eyes stay on him, brown irises slowly consumed by his pupils
Sexual tension wasn't on the menu. They're supposed to tear into their meals, not each other's pants. Stare at each other with loving gazes, not lustful daydreams.
An overwhelming want starts the ignition in his chest, a desire to take the wheel and drive Sami into the bathroom, riding out every promise they made over text.
But he can't. His mind has put a boot on his heart, stopping him from pressing the gas. It feels so wrong to stare at Sami and feel this way. His once enemy, now current love interest, and a biological man. Regardless of how eager he is, there's always that voice, that road block, that speed bump.
Sami reads into it, evident from the way he straightens and scrubs his face from lechery. "Your chip hasn't started beeping. That's a good sign."
Jey's relieved that the two ton weight has lifted off his shoulders. Yet, he's somewhat disappointed the glint in Sami's eye has retreated. His own inner dialogue is giving him whiplash over it, spinning out, burning rubber in his brain.
"Don't speak so soon," Jey mutters, taking a glance to the door. "He's probably lurking 'round here somewhere."
"Should we plan an excuse out?" Sami questions. "How about 'you were taking me out for a final meal before you kill me'?"
"I'm thinkin' more 'pretended to be your friend just so I could poison your salad and watch you suffer'."
Sami points and nods in agreeance. "That makes more sense. You'd never show me mercy."
"Not in public anyway," Jey hums out just as a worker arrives with their tray, offering a mumbled greeting as she slides it onto the table and walks off.
"So I'll get some in private?" He asks when she walks away, a risky inflection twitching at his words.
The Uso smirks, passion revving back up. "Yeah, you'll get some."
Sami chuckles, tongue swiping over his top lip as he grabs his salad. "That better be a promise."
Jey's heart flutters in his chest, the stupidest besotted smile splitting his pink cheeks. He hides it fast with a sip of his water, as if this feeling is unrequited and Sami will judge him.
Sami doesn't--he never would--not when his skin is shades more scarlet, far too obvious to hide. It's admirable how content he is with that. No shame in his sexuality. No gnawing embarrassment over his infatuation. Just staring at Jey with hearts in his eyes between quick peeks at the salad he's mixing with his fork.
"I think we hit the sexual innuendo quota for this date," Sami jokes. "New rule: the date ends if we make another one."
Jey snags his burger, tearing into the wrapper. "Then I ain't speakin' no more."
"Can't trust yourself?"
The younger shakes his head, shuffling the sandwich around in his hands until he finds the perfect bite. As he chews, Sami drops his fork and covers his face, erupting in a fit of giggles.
"What?" Jey questions through his mouthful, quickly wiping his face with a napkin as he swallows. "Do I got somethin' on my face?"
"No," Sami clears his throat, forcing his features to level. "I can't say it, the date will end."
Jey rolls his eyes, leaning back against the booth. "How are you gon' make a rule and break it within ten seconds?"
"I didn't break it," He defends, stuffing his mouth with leafy greens to avoid further interrogation.
Jey doesn't let up that easy, though, mindlessly eating fries until the moment Sami can reply. "Well, now I gotta know what it was."
Sami brushes him off. "Eat your food."
"No," Jey slides his meal toward the center of the table. "I'm goin' on a hunger strike until you tell me."
"You're such a bitch," Sami grumbles, flinging a tomato across the table, bouncing against Jey's hoodie.
"I'm really good at holdin' grudges, y'know," Jey informs, calmly wiping the fabric free of seeds.
"I'm well aware of that," His fingers reach up to the bridge of his nose where his injury from Thursday has scabbed over.
"Yeah, and I'll put another one there if you don't tell me."
Sami cocks his head, lips twitching into a smile. "Is that a threat?"
Jey leans across the table, grinning. "That's a fuckin' promise."
Last time Sami heard those words, he rushed to Jey with the intent to shut him up. His mind was racing with an overwhelming desire to bust his lips, break his jaw, and shatter his teeth. Anything to make the pessimistic, antagonizing hate he spewed permanently end.
This time is only slightly different. Sami still wants to shut him up, but definitely not forever, and definitely not with violence. He meets Jey halfway and pauses a couple inches from his face just to feel his breathing cease. He cradles the jaw he wanted to break, kisses the lips he wanted to bust, licks at the teeth he wanted to shatter.
The butterflies in his stomach all simultaneously flap their wings when Jey smiles into the kiss, his abdominal muscles tightening to keep them contained. His hand glides across the laminate until it touches the wrapper of Jey's discarded burger.
He pulls away just enough to stare into Jey's eyes. "Shut up and put the meat back in your mouth."
Jey blinks in confusion, blood draining down toward his hips. The parts of his mind that have been forcibly dormant awaken, just aching for the opportunity to front. It's not until Sami smashes the burger against his tingling lips does he understand what's actually going on.
Sami laughs as he swats the sandwich away. "That's what it was!?" He scrambles to wipe the grease from his mouth.
The redhead finds his joke entirely too amusing, crinkled eyes leaking tears as he grips his ribs with one hand and smacks the table with the other.
Jey giggles along too. Partially because Sami's energy is too contagious, but mostly because his elated hits to the table have drawn attention to the plastic container of salad.
Tossed in with the lettuce, tomatoes, and vinaigrette are pecans. While Sami's veganism may make him immune to meat jokes, the motherfucker isn't bulletproof.
He's too eager, snatching a pecan from the mix and grabbing a fistful of Sami's beard as a warning before he jams it past his lips.
"Shut up and put the nuts back in your mouth."
This may be the best comeback he's ever formulated so quickly. It may be the crowning achievement of his life, actually. Coming up victorious and getting to watch Sami's eyes bloom with admiration.
"Alright," Sami says after a moment, washing back his laughter with a sip of water. "Alright, fuck, you got me."
"We ain't ever gonna leave this table if you keep it up," Jey pulls his food closer, swirling a fry in ketchup.
"And that's supposed to make me want to stop?"
The way Sami looks at him will always make his heart stop. An unadulterated amount of affection, an unwavering sense of attachment. It makes him sweat knowing he feels the same way in return.
It's almost like Sami is his teddy bear. His secret most prized possession; hidden from his friends, subdued around his family. He acts like he doesn't care for it, but he'll lose his mind without it. He'd kill whoever dares to pluck its stitches, rip its seams, or tear its stuffing. Nothing would make him happier to hold it with him wherever he goes, but the shame in his head won't let him.
It'd be embarrassing. But why? Everyone has a teddy bear.
"How about a truce?" Sami offers, extending his hand out.
Replacing sexual innuendos with sexual crises won't make dinner any shorter. But Sami's right. Why would he want it to be?
The text vibration in his pocket may be reason enough. If it's Roman or Solo, they'd probably have just enough time to finish their food and make it back to the hotel without a trace. If it's Jimmy, it's already too late. His face is probably already plastered as MISSING on every billboard, TV channel, and milk carton in a five state radius.
He's too scared to check. Too scared to spend more precious time with Sami worrying. So instead, he reaches out and shakes Sami's hand firmly.
"Truce."
●●●
Jey piles their trash onto the tray, carefully balancing it all on the way to the trash can. The rest of dinner went very smooth once they started thinking with the right heads. So smooth, in fact, that it's nearing eleven p.m. and the prospect of a solid night's rest before the show tomorrow is becoming less attainable by the passing minutes.
They decided to multitask to save time. Jey's clearing the table while Sami takes a leak, somewhat of an unfair trade as Jey pointed out, pleased when Sami pencils in time for a couple brain-melting kisses to keep it even.
He lingers around the trash can, staring down the small hallway where the bathrooms are, willing Sami to come out sooner--no rush, but he just wants to look at him again.
Just as his silent wish is granted, Sami returning to his sight with a smile, the rose colored filter shatters in seconds.
"Jey Uso!?"
They both freeze. Jey's muscles tighten so aggressively they may all simultaneously cramp, throat swelling closed, rendering him catatonic.
Sami wouldn't consider himself calm under pressure, evident from his stammering heart and popped lungs. But something about the sheer terror in Jey's eyes, surely a reflection of his own, is enough to keep his train of thought from flying off the rails into a smoldering wreck.
He throws his hood over his head and grabs at the collars of his jacket to tent them over the lower half of his face, appearing like a random figute bracing for the weather. The side door they planned to exit from sits at the end of the small hall, so he keeps his eyes down and hustles out without a word.
He hopes he was quick enough, quiet enough, obscure enough. Everyone always says he looks like a homeless man, and for once, he hopes they're right.
"Excuse me?" A hand taps on Jey's shoulder, tearing his eyes from the door.
They didn't notice Sami, or at least, notice it was Sami. His popularity may have cursed him into being seen, but blessed him into not being outed.
He forces a smile to his face as he spins. "What's up?"
It's a pair of teen boys, bright eyes looking at Jey like he's God, smacking each other's arms in sheer excitement over this moment.
"We love you!" One blurts, brushing dark hair from his eyes. "You're my favorite wrestler!"
"We're coming to Raw tomorrow!" The other squeals, lanky limbs shaking in the mere presence of the Uso. "With our friends!"
"Yeah, with our friends!" He nods eagerly. "They'll never believe we met you!"
"Thanks for comin'," Jey shifts his weight from foot to foot, thoughts still stuck on the man hiding outside. "I'll be sure to show out for y'all."
"I'm Ryan," The tall one beams. "This is my brother, Ethan."
Ethan scans around. "Is Jimmy here too?"
Ryan gasps. "Or Roman!?"
Their energy is overwhelming at this hour, the shrill level of their voices is already giving him a headache. As irritating as it is to be nearly caught and completely interuppted on his date, the two boys are as polite as they are eager, and he can't find it in him to be short.
"Jus' me," He shakes his head, lowering his voice. "Don't tell 'em I was here, they'd get mad I didn't bring 'em nothin'."
The boys laugh, promising in between quick, lively breaths they'll keep quiet. "Could we just get a photo, please?" Ethan questions after gathering his composure, hand falling onto the phone in his pocket, waiting for confirmation to pull it out.
"Promise we won't post it," Ryan assures.
"Yeah, we promise!"
"Absolutely," Jey agrees. "Better keep that promise, though. Y'all know how it is with your siblings."
Ethan's arm shakes as he extends his phone out to capture the group, his brother grabbing it from him to ensure the photo is clear. They thank him profusely, walking back toward the counter to get the food they came in for. He thanks them too, because their kind, quick interaction is allowing him to rush out the door back to Sami.
His date awaits him, still covering most of his face as he sits on the curb. Sami jumps up with confirmation it's Jey, immediately grabbing his hand. "Did they see me?"
"No," Jey pulls him closer. "But we should go just in case they got somethin' else to say."
Sami guides them toward the sidewalk. "Maybe public dates aren't the best idea," He squeezes his hand. "I'm sure we could have some pretty nice hotel room dates, though."
"It'd be warmer."
"Warmer?" Sami scoffs. "You keep your room like an ice chest."
"Because there's a big bed and a ton of blankets," Jey groans. "There's no bed and blankets out here."
It earns him a fond sigh and loving attitude. "It's a ten minute walk, I think you'll make it."
Walking hand-in-hand with Sami back to the hotel feels like Tour de Ice Age. He forgot that cold air actually hurts. It's almost a relief to feel his face going numb.
He tries to keep his composure, hold back all his whiny complaints that surely won't end until they're somewhere where the temperature is back above sixty-five. Sami's probably tired of hearing it.
But it's impossible when they pause at a crosswalk, the air seemingly permeating through all two layers of his clothes and three layers of his skin, freezing his bones. Every exhale is now a swear, crystallizing in the frosty air.
Sami isn't so bothered by it, failing miserably to bite back a grin as he opens up his arms. Any embarrassment Jey has over immediately curling against Sami will be dealt with once he's sure he won't turn to ice.
Even when they start walking again, he keeps himself as close to Sami as he can without tripping them both. If almost getting caught wasn't enough of a reason to pause going out on dates, the temperature seals the deal.
Well, to Jey, at least. Sami seems wildly elated over their position, stuck between thanking his lucky stars for the current temperature and praying it gets colder so Jey inches closer.
"Fuckin' hate this," Jey spits, temporarily seeking shelter for his numb face in Sami's beard.
Sami chuckles, staring at the orange hand on the light. "It's really not that bad once you get used to it."
"And how long does that take?"
"Not sure," He shrugs. "I've always been used to it."
"Then that ain't helpful."
The white pedestrian blinks at him, and he gently nudges Jey forward. "Come on, you can do it."
Sami's encouragement falls flat this time, the Uso ignoring it to groan out another swear--the sixteenth one since Sami started counting.
Eventually, it just turns pitiful. Jey's chattering teeth and shaking frame become less adorable in the passing minutes, his true discomfort becoming apparent. Maybe Sami did underestimate how difficult cold weather can be for someone raised in exclusively warm weather.
He's gotten so used to it himself as a Canadian, resistance to the cold is sewn into his DNA. But Jey's practically the physical embodiment of summer. Putting him somewhere below freezing feels like smothering a flame.
"Hold on," Sami whispers, easing Jey away from him.
Jey furrows his brows as he watches Sami shake off his jacket. "What the hell are you doin'?"
"Trying to get you back to the hotel in one piece," He jokes, draping the jacket over Jey's shoulders.
"No, you need it," Jey frowns, stepping aside.
"No, you need it," Sami loops it back around Jey, using it as leverage to pull Jey back to him.
It's not very chivalrous to take Sami's jacket in this brutal weather, regardless of how thick and warm it may be in comparison to his worn hoodie. But it would be rude to deny such a kind offer, especially when Sami's so insistent--and completely unphased by the bitter cold that's nearly bringing Jey to his knees.
"How are you not freezin'?" He mumbles against Sami's collarbone, giving in.
Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe he was raised by penguins. Trained since birth to be utterly resilient to freezing temperatures, then shipped off to Canada after infancy. That's starting to seem like the only logical explanation for how they don't all freeze to death up there.
"I'm from Montreal. This is like summer to me," Sami hugs him tight, resting his chin on Jey's curls. "You got like two more minutes, if that. Keep moving, and don't die on me because I'm not sure how I'll explain it to your family."
Jey hums. "Only 'cause you asked so nicely, penguin-boy."
"What the hell does that mean?"
He laughs himself out of Sami's embrace, the older looking on in delightful confusion. For once, he leads them forward, wrapped around Sami's arm, starting to get warm enough to think coherent thoughts.
"Jim said you must've been raised by penguins 'cause the cold ain't botherin' you."
"Valid argument," Sami begins slowly. "Or, maybe I'm just from a cold region and I'm use to it?"
Jey thinks over it before shaking his head. "I like our answer better. Makes more sense."
"How!? Penguins aren't even native to Canada! They're only in the southern hemisphere!"
"That's why they ship you to and from Antarctica as a baby!"
Sami rolls his eyes. "I think the late stages of hypothermia are starting to set in. You're becoming delusional."
"It ain't hypothermia! Jimmy was thinkin' it earlier when it was warmer."
"Then it's folie á deux between twins, and I'll never win this debate."
"Folie á what?"
"Double madness," Sami translates. "Shared psychosis or delusions between two people."
"Did you just call us crazy?"
"If the shoe fits."
Jey shoves him aside, laughing. "You're such an asshole!"
"Me!?" Sami scoffs, smacking his shoulder. "You dubbed me penguin-boy!"
"The cutest penguin-boy," Jey assures.
"No, no," The older shakes his head. "You can't flirt your way out of this."
Jey returns to his arm, pressing his cheek against Sami's shoulder and batting his lashes. "Wanna bet?"
Sami's jaw tightens to hide the smile he's desperately swallowing back. His resilience is admirable, but Jey knows he's stronger. In the final forty-five seconds of their walk, Jey digs deep into his bag of tricks. He flashes doe eyes and pretty smiles between inciting comments. By the time they return to the side of the hotel, Sami caves, accepting the kiss Jey's been offering to give him.
"Doesn't count since we made it back to the hotel first," Sami declares. "I won."
"That wasn't a rule!"
"There were no rules to begin with!"
"You gave in so I won."
"I technically never accepted the bet to begin with," Sami crosses his arms. "So nobody won."
"Ugh," Jey groans. "You're such a sore loser, just admit I won."
Before Sami can contest, Jey's phone lights up in his pocket, vibrating in the confines. He holds his breath as he pulls it out, letting it out in a vexed sigh with confirmation it's his twin. No doubt Jimmy was the one texting him throughout the night, probably just now discovering he's not in his hotel room.
"Actually, we both lose because Jimmy has you chipped."
Sami's joke makes the irritation of his nosy brother a little more bearable. Their time together is dwindling and neither care to spend it in a debate over nonsense, instead clicking back together like puzzle pieces and trying to absorb the feeling long enough to coast off the high until they link next.
"Thanks for dinner," He mumbles into Sami's shoulder. "But I'm payin' next time."
"I don't think so."
It makes him pull away slightly, enough to shoot Sami threatening look. "I swear to god, I will burn your wallet."
The older just smiles at his attempt. "I got Apple Pay."
"I'll break your phone."
"I always keep an emergency twenty in the case."
"I'll knock you out the second the check comes."
Sami winces. "Please don't."
Jey laughs, bringing Sami to him for one final squeeze. Sami's cold nose nudges his cheek, wordlessly requesting a kiss that Jey grants without hesitation. He loses track of how long they spend like this; wrapped up tight, licking into each other's mouths, minds blank and hearts full.
Another phone call tears them apart. "Go ahead," Sami smacks a final kiss to his cheek before guiding him toward the front of the building. "Before he files a missing person's report."
Jey pouts, begrudgingly starting to take off Sami's warm jacket. "I'll text you."
"No, no," Sami frowns, pushing it back up Jey's shoulders. "Keep it."
"I can't keep your jacket, Sami."
"I have a ton, you'd be doing me a favor," Sami shakes his head. "I get like five each year from my family because it's so fucking cold in Canada."
Jey's thoughts are a tug-o-war between this will get us caught and I get to have his jacket. Sami seems to notice, aiding in the latter with a sweet smile and soft voice.
"I've never worn this one out before tonight," He assures, straightening the fabric out before bringing his hands to cup Jey's jaw. "Besides, you need something other than your hoodie if you plan to make it to our next date."
"You're makin' it impossible to leave," Jey mutters, snared into the alluring trap his siren set.
It feels like trying to get out of bed in the morning; warm and sluggish, trying to move away but always collapsing back into the comfort. And Jimmy's persistent calls are alarm adjacent, shrill and agitating, causing him to jolt back into his lackluster reality.
"Go, go, go," Sami breaks them apart, covering his mouth like he can't trust himself not to relatch. "Before the SWAT pulls up."
The sting of their goodbye is soothed with the scent of Sami's cologne wafting up from the hearty jacket. He hesitates before disappearing around the corner, taking in a final glance of the Canadian, hoping it stains in his brain so he'll never forget this night.
Notes:
Perhaps one of my weaker chapters? I don't know! Sorry if it wasn't too good! I workshopped it for a while so I apologize for the wait! Much love to you all!
Chapter 15: Knees
Summary:
Jey and Sami take the next step in their hidden relationship, while the secret of it all continues to plague Jimmy.
Notes:
Hey! Long time, no see! :)
Missed you! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
I did my best on the Arabic but the translations may be off! I put those all in the end note!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jey taps his keycard against the lock, the light flashing green with a robotic chirp. The jacket that saved him from freezing now constricts him, heat pooling in the fuzz and heart pounding under the zipper. It's probably rude to blame the jacket instead of his anxiety, but he truly can't formulate a single thought without his brain finding its way back to Sami Zayn.
He needs to shake that habit fast--within two seconds kind of fast--because opening his door reveals exactly what he anticipated, Jimmy staring at him with worried eyes masked in agitation.
"And where the hell have you been?" His twin questions, eyeing him up and down before furrowing his brow. "And what the hell are you wearin'?"
"Out," Jey says, kicking off his shoes. "And a jacket, what's it look like?"
"Obviously," Jimmy follows him from the door to the bed, watching as his brother flops on the mattress, expecting more.
"Jimmy, I'm thirty-seven years old. I went where I went."
"You went where you went without answerin' any of my texts or calls for two hours," Jimmy growls. "I was freakin' out."
Jey props himself up on his elbows. "I'm an adult."
"And my little brother," Jimmy crosses his arms. "Forgive me for worryin'."
Jey sighs, giving up his pissy charade to start laying the foundation of his planned lie. The entire trip up to his room was spent formulating what he was going to say to his expectant brother. Coming up with a plausible story is the easy part, he's always been relatively quick on his toes. But convincing Jimmy to buy it? Whole different ball game.
"I was freezin' my nuts off," Jey looks toward the window like the icy chill outside can still be felt. "My hoodie wasn't doin' shit so I bought myself a jacket."
"Bought yourself a jacket?" Jimmy parrots as he narrows his gaze.
Jey widens his eyes in disbelief over the question. "Yeah?"
"A size too small in that pattern?"
Exactly the point. Jimmy notices the things Jey couldn't even imagine he'd have to cover for. The way the jacket fits just a bit tight, the way the dark flannel print is never something he'd reach for first--nothing about the coat screams I, Jey Uso, picked and purchased this and of course, Jimmy's mind settles there first.
"This was the thickest one they had," Jey shrugs. "I honestly didn't give a shit about anythin' else."
"They didn't have nothin' else in your size and style?"
"Not this thick," He mindlessly rubs the fabric, fronting as innocent. "I wasn't gonna make it to Minneapolis with my old hoodie."
There's a silence that follows his statement. Jimmy's attention doesn't fall from him in those few seconds, body tense as he fortifies himself at the foot of the bed, a signal that Jey's not out of the woods yet. It doesn't stop the younger from playing dumb, blatantly ignoring his brother's eyes as he sits up and starts getting ready for bed.
"I don't believe you," Jimmy says once they're both in the bathroom--after he trailed Jey around the room like a parole officer for thirty seconds.
Jey rolls his eyes as he caps his toothpaste. "That's a you problem."
"Jey, what are you hidin' from me?" Jimmy interrogates, staring intently at Jey in the mirror for a moment before he gasps. "You were with your boo, weren't you!?"
His heart swells in his chest, swallowing up valuable space that his lungs need to breathe. It feels nearly impossible to turn his shaky exhale into a groan of aggravation, but he tries anyway, he has to hide this.
"You're delusional," He scoffs through a mouthful of foam.
"I know when you're lyin' to me."
He adds another irritated exasperation for good measure before spitting into the sink and wiping his mouth free. "Jimmy, I'm gettin' tired of this! Stop!" He demands, marching out of the bathroom as he adds, "I'm fuckin' serious!"
Unfortunately, his brother is unrelenting. "I'm serious too," He climbs on the bed, planting himself right in the center with his arms folded.
"What are you doin'?" Jey frowns.
"I'm not moving 'til you tell me everything."
"Get outta here with that shit," He waves a dismissive hand to his brother as he digs through his suitcase. "It's too late, I'm tired."
"Tired from whatever you did with your boo?"
"No!"
The sharpness of his tone is enough to sever the string of pleads and pressure Jimmy intended to continue with. The air thickens with tension, neither brother saying a word. Jey tries to avoid it all by toying within his bag for far longer than necessary, taking calculated peeks in the older's direction, waiting for the moment he'll jump up and leave.
Jimmy doesn't do that though. He isn't even piqued by Jey's avoidance. Instead, he waits until Jey's full attention settles back onto him, the eager spark in his eyes mattifying as he speaks calmly.
"I ain't tryna be invasive, uce," His nails mindlessly rake over the ink on his biceps as his frustration melts into honesty. "I just-- I been with you through everythin' our whole lives. We did it all together and I don't want that to change."
God, this might be worse than Jimmy storming off. A weight heavies on his chest, brain cursing himself for not being harsher in telling Jimmy to go.
He wouldn't be in this situation if he did. He wouldn't have to bear listening to his brother spill the true emotional intentions behind his nosiness. He wouldn't need to be reminded he's his older brother's pride and joy, regardless of the rift his pestering causes.
"I don't wanna know for me, I wanna know for you," Jimmy's earnest tone continuing to eat away at his defenses like corrosive acid. "I wanna be there for you--with you--through whatever's goin' on...just like it's always been."
It has always been that way. The longest they hide things is the month leading up to their birthday and Christmas, and its only hiding what they got one another. Even then, it feels impossible. Itchy and jumpy whenever they're in proximity, aching to alleviate their suffering by spilling all the secrets. Some years, they'd just celebrate early, too eager to make the knowledge common.
A part of him wishes this speech is just a ploy to get him to spill, it'd be easier to reject it. But it's not, Jey knows it's not. It's half past eleven, too late to continue arguing, so Jimmy's conceding by pouring out his heart before they part, entirely unaware that the restraint Jey's been carrying for a week is slipping from his grip.
"And I'm sorry for bein' such a dick about it, but I--" He sighs, scooting toward the end of the mattress. "I guess all I'm tryna say is I care about what's happenin' and I'm here if you ever wanna talk about it."
The world feels off balance. He flies through a thousand thoughts and emotions in the time it takes for Jimmy to rise from the bed. His body and mind are desperate to maintain homeostasis in the most backward sense of it.
He's sweating under his jacket, parched in his mouth, woozy on his feet--but his body doesn't seem to care to correct any of it, solely focused on fixing the disparity between him and his twin.
"You ain't bein' a dick," Jey's words stop Jimmy a couple paces short the door. He continues when his brother turns back, ready to spill.
Spilling to Sami the other night worked wonders. Just finding something to say got them to where they are now. Maybe honesty is the best policy. Maybe he's finally learned his lesson about bottling it up and damaging relationships.
"I'm bein' one and I'm sorry too. I--so I've been--" His mind completely blanks before he can spit anymore out, an involuntarily mechanism for self preservation.
He tries to override it, gears grinding in his head to keep his train of thought chugging. Jimmy waits patiently, moving to linger in the free space around the younger. Eventually, he offers some polite direction.
"You been talkin' to someone, am I right?" He questions, offering a gentle smile. The microscopic glimmer in Jey's clouded eyes is enough confirmation for him, his beam brightens a couple lumens. "Oh, you gotta tell me about her!"
Her.
Her.
The smoking gears that were guiding him into confiding to Jimmy officially burst into flames at the pronoun. His twin probably thought he was helping, unaware the most simple of phrases could force Jey to retreat. Any remaining parts of him that felt driven to share burn to ashes in the heat of his shame and embarrassment.
"No," Jey shakes his head, stepping away. "I told you I ain't talking to anyone."
Jimmy blinks, grin collapsing off his lips as Jey's subtle warmth chills instantly, shutting him out once more. Where did he go wrong? What did he do?
Jey was finally willing to share the mystery that's been relentlessly plaguing him for days. Jey wasn't pressured, ready to do it on his own free will, but just a little hesitant. He thought he'd help, prompt his stuttering thoughts a little to clear up the muck.
But one step forward somehow threw him three miles back with no direction on how to get back to where they just were. And regardless of what lies Jey wants to feed him, the look in his eyes was unmistakable.
There's a lot of things Jimmy doesn't know. He's never been the smartest guy in the room. He's never claimed to be a genius in any field.
But he absolutely knows his twin. He knows every little thing about him. He could write a thousand books about his hobbies, interests, mannerisms, expressions, thought processes--anything and everything about Jey Uso.
So he knows the story Jey starts to spill about whatever's going on in his life is a lie. He's tuning it out, defeated as he watches his little brother continue on.
The way he paces nervously around the room, staying busy but completing nothing. His mouth carries on, years of training on the microphone fabricating details of the lie. Jimmy's more focused on the tense tremble of the muscles in his jaw, the way his eyes stay down and clouded, the mysterious jacket that he rubs occasionally to self soothe.
Eventually, it comes to a stop. His mouth, his lies, his avoidance. The moment he finally chances to meet Jimmy's eyes, the taller just purses his lips and nods stiffly.
"Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here," He repeats, starting back toward the door. "Get some rest, man."
Jey watches him go, finding no relief from running like he had hoped--as he knew. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, tugging the collar of the jacket out enough to sink his nose into the flannel. Comfort floods his senses in the form of woodsy wafts of Sami's cologne, the only thing successful in calming his stammering heart.
He's a coward. A ridiculous coward who's desperate for love in private but can't confront it in public. Sami doesn't deserve to be hidden. His feelings don't deserve to be buried. Jimmy doesn't deserve to be lied to.
Another inhale, another second of relief from his racing thoughts. The tide returns promptly, waves of self hatred and guilt rising back across his brain. It's an endless cycle, trapping him in that position for the better half of three minutes, only freed when his phone buzzes and he takes a nervous glance.
Sami: Made it back to my room. Haven't seen any billboards with your face on it so that's a good sign. Hopefully Jimmy isn't ripping into you too hard, Jule.
He lurches toward the device, a smile splitting his worn features as he responds to Sami; drafting the best response with a full heart, admiration dripping of his words
His hidden love. His buried feelings. His protected truth.
Coward.
●●●
Jimmy rolls out his shoulders, twisting from side to side to stretch out. His eyes stay where they've been nearly all day, trained on Jey. The younger wets his mullet, ruffling the fading red curls to ensure saturation.
Jey hasn't been any more forthcoming about his secret even after a night of sleep and a day spent together signing stacks of photos. Though, he's not nearly as aloof as he was when they parted last night, so Jimmy decided against pushing it.
"Alright, boys," Roman addresses the trio as they finish getting ready, looking into each of their eyes as they peer up. "Be careful tonight."
"Always," Sami nods, scrunching his nose when Jey mutters something under his breath.
They've been ignoring each other for the majority of the day, more for personal protection, as it's become entirely impossible to not smile or blush. It feels ridiculous. Like they're not even in control of their own bodies--a smile unwillingly splitting their faces the moment their lover's face pops into their brain.
Professionally, it's better this way.
Personally, it's absolutely agonizing.
The fact that Jey is just feet away, and Sami can't even risk looking at him for too long is an insufferable feeling. He swore he was going to out them both when Jey started changing into his gear. It was like a moth to a light, dangerously alluring yet fully lethal if he gives in.
Sami's really proud of the way he took less than ten looks at Jey changing in total, but he's more proud of the way he kept cool when he caught Jey doing the exact same. Habitually, he'd tense his abdominals when brown eyes scanned him, as if he's trying to make himself more appealing to a man that already adores him.
The real test of their abilities came just after when their bodies betrayed them--Jey losing his fight against smiling and Sami's pale cheeks staining permanently pink from blushing.
Quick on his toes, Sami started fanning himself with anything nearby, complaining about how hot the lockerroom is, the easiest lie to cover his flushed face. Solo and Roman, both clad in a sweat suits, offered confused glances, while Jimmy and Jey frowned trying not to shiver in their sleeveless shirts.
Jey cleanly played right off of it, using Sami's complaints as the reason for his unrelenting giggles, earning him a couple of wordless warnings from his twin.
With a firmer grasp on their composures, it's far easier to keep up their regularly scheduled hatred. Successfully, may they add, seeing that Roman rolls his eyes at Jey's bitchiness.
"And can we all work as a team too?" He asks his cousin in particular.
"Uh-huh," Jey dismisses, tossing the spray bottle atop his bags and avoiding Roman's glare.
"Don't worry, Roman," Sami interjects. "Jimmy and I can pick up the slack."
"Do we got a problem?" Jey snaps, shooting daggers at Sami.
Sami can't help but grin, tying the mistake into their ruse perfectly. "Not aside from the one you always seem to have with me."
"We're not doing this right now!" Jimmy barks. "Act like professional adults for twenty fuckin' minutes, alright!?"
"Too tall of an ask," Solo says from the couch.
"Hey, it's probably not too late for you to join in instead," Sami offers.
Jey scoffs. "Oh, you really tryna--"
"Enough!" Roman groans. "Fuck, you're both insufferable!"
Sami and Jey shrink, hiding their sheer joy behind heavy attitude. They've done enough for now. Nobody suspects a thing and that's exactly how it has to stay, even if their family goes grey over it.
"You don't have to be friends," Paul adds, appearing with two belts in each arm, handing them off to the twins. "But please be co-workers--for the sake of the business and viewers. They didn't pay to see you two ruin the highly anticipated finale match."
"Couldn't say it better myself," Roman forces a smile, waving them toward the door. "Be safe, have fun, and please behave."
The trio walk out of the room, Jimmy becoming the new authority figure in Roman's absence.
"Just follow the script," He orders, far calmer than the chief, hoping to relax the bickering duo before their match. "I know y'all can bite all of this back 'til that bell rings."
Jey nibbles on the inside of his cheek, silent agreement with a dash of frustration. As they carry on down to gorilla, his twin continues his pep talk.
"Even when y'all were mad on Friday, but y'all did great on camera," Jimmy looks between then. "Tonight ain't any different."
Sami nods along to Jimmy's words, blinking away the flashes of Jey changing that still plague his memory. He's happy to find early relief in running into the Brawling Brutes in gorilla, all gathered by the curtain and awaiting their theme.
"Hey!" Ridge smiles at the trio. "Look at those sharp gents!"
"All color coordinated as usual," Butch admires.
"We try," Jimmy admires their gear like he's never seen it before in his life. "Obviously the twin thing, but we had to get our boy Sami in on it."
Jey's sure to punctuate his brother's statement with a scowl, earning him a subtle but sharp elbow to his ribs.
The Brutes still see it, chuckling to Jimmy's agitation, Jey's agony, and Sami's apathy. Their entrance starts, all six men dialing back into their task at hand, stagehands rambling fast into headsets as they nudge the Europeans to the curtains.
"Good luck, fellas!" Sheamus calls over his shoulder as they walk out, disappearing to the sound of screaming fans and heavy music.
Jey's eyes leave the floor in lieu of his brother, Jimmy's focused brown eyes narrowed at the screen, taking slow breaths to find a moment of peace before the chaos.
Guilt washes over him, watching his twin's mirror features stuck in stress. They've been like this since last night, when he shoved Jimmy away during his spiral. They've been like this since this morning, when he kept Jimmy at arm's length despite his better spirits. They'll probably stay like this for the remainder of the night, while Sami and him keep up their unrelenting bickering.
The secret is taking a toll of their symbiotic relationship. Regardless of if they like it or not, everything they do is intertwined; every decision Jey makes impacts Jimmy, every emotion Jey feels affects Jimmy, every thought Jey has influences Jimmy. Once an imbalance forms, it's felt by both of them, becoming a nagging voice, a merciless itch, a gnawing pit. They both know it's there, even without it being explicitly brought up.
And as happy as he is in his secret little bubble with Sami, he can't stand to see a canyon come between him and Jimmy.
And as much as he loves Jimmy, he can't find the courage to admit a thing--trapped in a cage of his own shame as he watches the strain between them grow.
Their music hits, causing his brother to exhale sharply as he puffs out his chest and lifts up his chin. As usual, Jimmy's eyes land on him before walking past the curtain, a final check before they walk out to a million eyes. He seems almost surprised to see Jey already looking, but it morphs into a fond smile that brings Jey promise their bond isn't faded.
It seems unfair to have to harden his emotions back up after the freeing revelation, but after years in the industry, his body reverts back to factory settings the moment he steps into the lights.
Sami bounces around them like a goddamn meth-head, dancing terribly to their song like usual. Jey walks in time with Jimmy, ignoring the Canadian, more focused on crowdwork and flashing his titles. They pauses at the lip of ramp, putting the ones up and they're announced.
They split at the ring, entering at opposite ends, perfect reflections of one another. All up until their usual pose on the ropes, when Jimmy falls into Sami's gravity and starts dancing along. Jey can only watch in displeasure, publicly hating his brother's liking to the redhead while privately hating his brother's ability to like him so freely.
He jumps down, lip curled and nose scrunched, marching to their corner to hand his belts off to the referee. The expression on his face doesn't change as his eyes shift to Sami still jumping around, burying his dilating pupils with downset brows.
Sami's just meant to be here. His energy, his talent, his delight, his knowledge-- he holds every necessary trait a wrestler could have. The crowd loves him, he loves the crowd. Dedicated to the craft day and night, rain or shine, full seats or empty house.
A handsome smile finds his face when Jimmy smacks his chest to hype him up--like that's even a possibility--radiant in the already blinding lights. Frizzy red curls fall over his shimmering brown eyes as he matches the hype with enough power to rattle the ring. Jey finds himself incredibly lucky to be the recipient of those eyes for half a second; his heart skipping a beat, lungs forgetting a breath, mind losing it's inhibitions.
Sami's just meant to be his. His vibrancy, his willingness, his admiration, his understanding--he holds every necessary trait a lover could have. Jey adores him. He adores Jey. Dedicated to their secret, to their reality, to their past, to their future.
He forces the thoughts out of his head when everyone finds their starting positions, Sami in the corner opposite of Butch.
Well, he tries to.
Usually, he bides his time on the apron watching the spots to stay on script, running through it in his head between character work. He managed that for the first minute or so before he succumbed to the insistent urge drawing him to Sami like a sunflower to the sun.
Lean muscle flexes beneath pale skin, slowly going shiny and red as the match progresses. Jey is captured by the characteristics of Sami he's never found attractive before; broad shoulders, calloused hands, angular structure, body hair.
Warning shots in his head force his eyes way, the running commentary of self-loathing talking over his professional analysis.
"You 'ight?" Jimmy asks.
Jey nods entirely too fast, causing his brother's eyes to narrow. Sami crawls to the corner for a tag, desperation and exhaustion in his eyes. It shouldn't be as hot as Jey finds it--his mind is sure to let him know--and he ultimately turns his back toward the redhead in some final ditch, self preservation effort. Some of the crowd shames him for his discourtesy. He's shaming himself for something else entirely.
Sami makes the tag to Jimmy, rolling under the bottom rope and using it as support to pull himself to his knees. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Jey becomes painfully aware he's not the only one feeling the tension, all too sinful for a televised match.
It's going to be a long twenty minutes.
~~~
Sami tried to ignore it. He really did.
Half hard in his gear after watching Jey in the ring, he rushed off to take a shower at a temperature that nearly froze him.
It worked up until he warmed up in his sweats twenty minutes later and the persistent thoughts worked their magic once more.
He thought he could wait it out. It'd surely go away eventually. But when Jey walked in after his own shower, dressed in only sweats thus far, curls dripping water onto his tan skin, Sami knew he couldn't wait until the hotel to get his hands on the younger.
With Roman and Solo off cutting some backstage promo elsewhere, and Jimmy was still finishing his shower, there's definitely a solid fifteen minutes that they can spend locked at the lips.
So now he paces in a small storage closet, staring at the texts he sent Jey before he walked out of the lockerroom, wondering if he's overstepped.
Sami: Down the hall, to the right, fourth door on the left
Sami: If you want to makeout or whatever
He thinks it's kinda cool. Nonchalant, even. But it's been about two minutes and Jey hasn't walked in, so maybe he's not as slick as he thinks.
Hell, maybe he completely misinterpreted the look in Jey's eyes. Maybe he was so clouded with his own lust, he only saw what he wanted to believe. Is he pushing Jey too far? Too fast? Fuck, he just got him back and he's already screwing this all--
"Sami?"
The whisper comes from beyond the wood. Sami feels his racing mind and heart brake immediately.
"Yeah," He inches toward the door, pausing when it cracks open and Jey slips in.
It takes the Uso a couple seconds to adjust to the darkness, waiting until Sami comes into view before speaking. "I thought you'd never ask."
Sami's face splits with a smile as he reaches out for Jey's jaw, directing their lips together. Jey's so willing, a salve to the anxieties over his own desperation. Those thoughts seem miles away now as the Samoan walks him against a wall and licks into his mouth.
He's happy to follow the pace Jey sets, happy to kiss for as long as the Uso will let him, happy to just have a couple uninterrupted minutes with the man he can't stop thinking about.
When Jey slides his hands to Sami's hips to tug him closer, Sami dares to move a hand to Jey's waist to do the same. When Jey's control on the kiss falters, Sami gladly takes the opportunity to lead. When Jey makes a subtle noise, Sami eagerly works for another.
A couple minutes pass like this, Jey further testing the waters every thirty seconds with Sami never shying away. At some point, Jey's judgment slips off into the thick cloud of lust over his mind, leaving him with the cues of his body that demand Sami in more ways than he has him.
His lips fall to the curve of Sami's jaw, kissing through the coarse beard. Sami's willingness is intoxicating, having no objections as Jey furthers down to his collarbone.
Jey feels weightless, floating by his muted thoughts, guided by pure instinct. Every action he takes feels so automatic, so necessary, feels so inexorable, feels so right.
It just feels so right to leave a mark on Sami's clavicle, it just feels so right to trail kisses down Sami's skin, it just feels so right to sink to his knees and hook his fingers into the waistband of Sami's sweats.
What?
Above him, Sami freezes, quiet and still. His breath catches in his throat, wide eyes locked on Jey, muscles tense and twitching. Jey stares at the bulge beneath the fabric, brain back online in time to question how exactly he's gotten himself here.
And while his mind floods with shame and anxiety that he feels from his heart to his stomach, he still doesn't move from the position. Knees rooted to the ground, unwilling to shift.
Admist the flurry of thoughts, a weight heavies on his head, careful pressure capturing his attention. He peers up to Sami, who gently runs his hand through the damp curls.
"It's okay," Sami assures, entirely breathless and scared to take another. "You don't have to."
The affirmation is nice and all, but it's not strong enough to move him either. It's horrifying to face the fact that he doesn't want to move. The only thing keeping him from being swept away by his chagrin is Sami's trembling hand attempting to comfort him.
It's the only thing that pulls the words from his lips. "I want to," He exhales. "Can I?"
He swears Sami's pupils expand far into the whites of his eyes, consuming everything in their path as he nods. Jey returns his gaze ahead of him, the terrifying thing he's craving on a primal level.
Sami's fingers clutch at the hairs at the crown of his head when his sweats are slid to his knees. It's a dick, just as advertised, hardening with the passing milliseconds. He truthfully expected himself to be more hesitant, more stressed, more panicked. He expected his inner dialogue to break him down so bad he'd shy away before even seeing the damn thing.
And while it's still rambling on unforgivingly, he finds an odd source of comfort in the prospect of sucking a guy off.
In the sense that he already has a dick, he's already gotten blowjobs, and he already knows what feels good-- almost like he's already qualified for the job.
He can't possibly fuck this up more than eating a girl out, not when he's (sorta) experienced already.
Though, he'll probably fuck it up if he thinks for a second longer, starting to feel an icy chill twist down his spine that beckons him to abandon ship. Even through the nonsense his anxiety spews, he knows he doesn't want to leave. He bites the bullet and wraps an hand around the base, taking a couple inches into his mouth.
It's all in the span of maybe two seconds, a tad rushed, his mind still scrambling to keep up with his actions. The concious half of his brain stages a revolt, growing more convincing with the passing moments, enough for him to hesitate and pull back with only his lips around the head.
He almost listens entirely. He almost comes to his senses and flees. He almost believes the booming echos in his head that relentlessly tell him he's hit a new low.
But some heroic autonomic side of him keeps him on his knees for just another few seconds, just to swirl his tongue around and move his free hand to grip Sami's thigh.
"Fuck," The swear blends in with a exhale from Sami's lips.
It's rewarding in the most addictive way, subconcious becoming concious in time to execute the final troubling thoughts from his head. He hums in content and bobs deeper, confidence mounting with his peace of mind.
"Fuck!" Sami hisses, everything simultaneously stiffening impossibly harder; the hand in his hair, the muscles under his fingers, the cock on his tongue.
It all makes him hazy and hungry, senses going fuzzy as he presses Sami further into his throat just to hear what other noises the older can make. Every one fuels him to move faster and swallow harder, earning him a symphony of raspy breaths and stifled moans.
He didn't expect himself to take to it so quickly, but sucking dick is far easier than eating pussy. Pussy requires too much thought and technique. Here, on his knees for Sami, there's not a single thing he could do wrong. The vulnerability comes with complete assurance in his actions.
Embarrassingly, it's far more enjoyable too. His own dick aches in his pants, almost unbearable, causing him to mindlessly roll his hips around for friction that isn't there.
For two people who couldn't stand the sight of one another three days ago, they're completely obsessed with each other now. Sami's starting to whisper tiny comments of praise as he cradles the back of Jey's head. All while Jey is swallowing as much of Sami as physically possible without keeling over from lack of oxygen.
"Fuck," Sami whines, trembling on unsteady legs. "Fuck, wait!" He grips the dark curls and pulls back until Jey detaches.
He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of anything but the Samoan on his knees, willing himself not to finish just yet. This moment can't be over so soon. Why can't it just last forever?
"Ya 'iilahi saeadni," He prays, leaning his head back against the wall and gently petting at Jey's head to assure him. "Law samaht, I-I just don't want to cum yet."
Sami takes a couple deep breaths, waiting for the heat in his stomach to fizzle out, hoping to make it another minute maybe. But it burns white hot when he dares to look down to Jey, a truly lewd sight; on his knees, staring at Sami's cock with starved doe eyes, a hand still at the base while a strand of saliva connects his swollen bottom lip to the weeping head.
"Allaenat eali--nevermind! I need--I--please," He pants, begging Jey to resume, hardly restrianing himself from pushing the younger's head forward.
Jey doesn't notice his insistent guidance, already swallowing him fully before the pleads even finish. Sami loses himself in the sensation, the sight, the sounds; grounding his feet to avoid any movement that will choke Jey.
"You're so good," Sami heaves. "So, so good for me."
The praise pulls a muffled moan from the Uso, vibrations Sami swears he can feel all the way in his bones. He shudders, light-headed, clenching his fingers tighter into the mullet.
"I'm--" He gasps. "Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum."
Jey doesn't heed his warning, continuing to swirl and swallow and suck like it's his fucking job. Sami's lips part to warn him again, but he unravels the moment Jey's eyes bounce up to him.
Those pretty coffee eyes always get Sami. Hypnotic dark pools of sin that glimmer with innocence, staring up through long lashes. One look is all it takes for Sami to cum, the orgasm hitting him like a freight train, writhing and whimpering as Jey slurps every drop of him up.
Jey prolongs it with the knowledge of the gravity of his gaze, enrapturing Sami every time the older peers down. It takes an entire damn minute for Sami to catch his breath, easier toward the tail end when Jey finds some mercy and pulls off.
The taller rises to his feet, sliding Sami's sweats up to his hips, admiring his work with a beam. The hand still cradled at his crown directs him into a hug, Sami pressing kisses to his ear between winded praise.
Jey didn't think Sami had the energy to do more than just that, but he finds himself spun against the wall in the next breath, Sami's praise devolving into filthy desires.
Sami's hands drag along every inch of his body, hips intentionally brushing against his erection. His teeth tug at the gold huggie earring before they nip down his neck
"Sami," Jey grabs the hands that slide down the front of his sweats, causing the older back away. "We don't got time. We got like five minutes, uce."
As horrible as it is to walk around with balls bluer than the ocean, it'd be ten times worse being interuppted halfway through. There's no shot the rest of the group hasn't found their way back to the lockerroom by now, questioning where they are. He knows his twin is always eager to get back to the hotel and relax, especially after a match. They should count themselves lucky that Jimmy isn't already rattling the knob of every door in this building right now.
"I'll do in three," Sami flashes a hopeful smile, eyes sparkling in the darkness.
Jey can't possibly say no to Sami. He may be thinking with the wrong head, he may be risking their entire cover, he may be setting himself up for failure if they're interuppted; but he caves immediately with a nod of his head and bites his lip hard when Sami drops to his knees.
He doesn't even make it three minutes. He barely makes it two before he's cumming down Sami's throat with moans of Oh fuck!, Oh God!, Oh Sami! that never seem to fully end until he's wrapped up in Sami's arms with his dick back in his boxers.
They embrace until their breathing levels, a sense of urgency setting in now with clearer minds.
"I'll follow after you in like a minute or something," Sami says, nodding toward the door.
Jey hesitates, wondering if this will be the last moment they'll have together for the foreseeable future, already yearning for Sami in anticipation of his absence. "Should we say goodbye now or...?"
"Don't worry," The older smirks, far too lovingly. "I'll come visit you tonight, clinger."
"Keep that shit up and I won't open the door," Jey rolls his eyes, playing coy.
"Sure you won't," Sami chirps, pressing a gentle hand to Jey's back to get him out the door, cracking some joke about him coming out of the closet that almost earns Sami a slap in the face.
He's sure Jey will actually slap him for it when they link up later. The Uso never forgetting to deliver a receipt when it's due. And somehow Sami's entirely fine with that.
Anything as long as he's with Jey.
Notes:
Ya 'iilahi saeadni: Oh god, help me
Law samaht: Please
Allaenat eali: Fuck me
Chapter 16: Tension
Summary:
The Bloodline receives a warning from The Wise Man after meeting a prominent figure who’s sure to be a thorn in their side. Tensions stay high between the twins, and Jey begins risking their cover to be closer to Sami.
Chapter Text
"You didn't know I speak Arabic?" Sami knits his brows with a smile. "You really did hate me.”
"'Course I knew it," Jey rolls his eyes. "I meant I never heard you speak it in person."
"Yeah, well," He yawns as he stretches out his sore limbs, circling them back around the Samoan. "I'm surprised I could recall any language in that moment."
Jey scoots closer to Sami with a smile, too tired and lovesick to mask any of it. He'd never imagine himself in such a position...for numerous reasons.
Aside from the fact he's clinging to someone's side, leg thrown over their hips, resting his cheek on their shoulder (he's always on the receiving end of this), he's doing it with Sami Zayn .
It's been so hard to wrap his head around his relationship with Sami. Their turmoil turned temptation has left him in a hurricane of conflicting feelings. Yet, something changed in his brain after tonight, after they've been inches deep in each other's throats, voices still scratchy on the undertones from it.
He feels freed. Like the heavy chains weighing him down have been unlocked, allowing him to float into the beauty of their relationship with a silent mind. Crossing that threshold has flipped the dubious switch in his head that questioned it all.
He surely never saw himself ever cuddling against Sami. He surely never saw himself toying with the copper curls while listening to Sami ramble. He surely never saw himself heating at the sensation of Sami's hands stationed on his waist and thigh.
But here he is, experiencing it all—better yet, with no inner dialogue shaming him for it.
"You know French too, right?"
"Yeah, I think I'm pretty good at it," Sami chuckles. "But if you were to ask Kev, he'd probably disagree."
"Say somethin'."
Sami's fond smile makes his stomach flip. "Quelque chose."
"What does that mean?"
"Something."
Sami raises a hand in a weak attempt to block the playful smacks Jey hits him with. "You're so annoyin'!"
"Désolé, mon chéri!" He flinches.
Jey pauses his movements, arm still cocked back. "Does that mean sorry?"
"Oui," Sami eases Jey's hand down before returning his hand to Jey's thigh, running it up and down the skin. "It means sorry, my dear."
Jey pretends to think about the apology for a couple seconds, knowing full well his reply is begging to spill from his tongue. "It's okay, la'u pele."
Sami's eyes brighten. "Is that Samoan?" He's practically lighting up the dark room with his beam, somehow bringing Jey even closer to him, melting into each other. "Did you just call me something in Samoan?"
"Mhmm," Jey hums, resting his head down on Sami's collarbone as a way to hide his glowing cheeks. "Called you the same thing."
"What an honor."
"Privilege," Jey corrects. "That I'll take away whenever you're bein' an ass."
"When am I ever an ass?"
"Kidnappin' my card at dinner the other night."
"I thought of it as chivalrous," Sami's frown is evident in his tone, enough for Jey to peer up to get a glimpse.
Kissing the pout off Sami's lips may be counterproductive to his threat, but it'd be unethical not to. At this point, keeping any part of his body away from Sami has become nearly impossible, especially when Sami's reciprocating with equal (or more) desperation.
Their kiss treads in the same direction as the one they had in the closet hours ago; Sami's hands dancing between gliding up Jey's shirt and down into the waistband of his boxers, all while Jey's tongue dips into every corner of Sami's mouth.
The reoccuring fate seems all but sealed until Sami pulls away, readjusting Jey's disarranged attire as he speaks, "I'll never leave this room if we start this tonight."
"Wouldn't be so bad," The younger manages one more kiss before Sami continues with a raised brow.
"Until your family catches us and we have to explain everything."
Jey wrinkles his nose, begrudgingly returning back to resting against Sami. "It ain't like they awake at this hour anyway."
"We shouldn't be either," Sami sighs.
The reminder makes his chest heavy, eyes immediately bouncing to the alarm clock that displays a number just past two in the morning. His time with Sami is dwindling. The redhead always leaves before they fall asleep to ensure their secret stays safe. And while he appreciates it greatly, letting Sami leave each night has been truly agonizing.
His grip tightens on Sami's middle, curling his head inward until Sami's heartbeat thumps in his ear. "Just a few more minutes," He whispers.
Sami agrees silently, moving to lazily massage his scalp. He soaks it all in, living in the too short moment like it'll be their last. There's nothing he wants to forget, nothing he wants to miss. He wants to recall everything. The pattern Sami's nails drag along his head. The texture of the cotton shirt against his cheek. The exact number of times Sami's heart beats before the number on the clock changes.
Jey spends five minutes staring at the clock with half-lidded eyes, counting and feeling and absorbing. It takes him another minute to realize Sami's hand has stopped moving on his head, and the strong beats beneath his ear have slowed and settled.
Maybe it's the wrong choice to keep Sami in his room overnight, but waking him seems like a far worse option. And after years of empty hotel rooms and cold blankets, there's not a single part of him that can bring himself to return to that.
Even with Sami's warning bouncing in his head, he doesn't move—he won't. Being outed seems like an afterthought when he's so exhausted and sore and so warm and safe in Sami's arms. His body sinks against Sami's, falling into rhythm, slipping into slumber.
•••
Sami blinks away his exhaustion, furrowing his brows at the unusual amount of light. It takes him a moment to regain enough consciousness to account for everything, like the fact that it's sunrise and he's still in Jey's room, in Jey's bed, and in Jey's arms.
He tries not to wake the younger as he scans the room for a clock, heart beating exponentially faster with the passing seconds. Sami promised himself Saturday night that he'd always stay aware enough to leave Jey's room before he crashed, regardless of how surprisingly snuggly the Samoan is. And that lasted all of...four days, their secret on thin ice with the threat of Jimmy entering the room at any given time.
The flickering red numbers on the bedside alarm clock quell his concerns when it's only 7:23am, just after daybreak and far too early for even Jimmy to come knocking.
Sami eases back against the pillows, shifting his attention to the man on his chest. It still doesn't feel real that Jey Uso is cuddling against him. That this is same Jey Uso whose lips spit venom at him for years, the same Jey Uso whose hands busted his nose last week, the same Jey Uso whose eyes shot daggers at him with every gaze.
All of that feels like a distant memory looking at him now. Those lips practically kissed him to sleep last night, those hands refuse to leave his body whenever they're in close proximity, those eyes capture him with their rich sparkle.
It'll never feel real to him. Even when he's carding his fingers through the dark mullet, moving so slow he can watch each curl bounce away from his skin.
Beyond his outright shock over romancing and bedding his once sworn enemy, he feels like a complete imposter in the position. Like he's won a prize that he didn't earn. Just an unworthy recipient of God's most beautiful creation. What he did to become so lucky evades him.
He spends far too long staring at Jey, his free hand ghosting different parts of the younger as he admires them; muscles, ink, lips, lashes, jewelry, beard, nose, hands--every reachable feature.
Eventually, the rising sun stretches further into the room, reaching the bed, a blaring signal they're at high risk of being caught. Jey's blissfully unaware of the danger, and Sami intends to keep it that way, doing his absolute best to ease out from his grasp.
It takes him four minutes to free himself, shorter than he expected, the process expedited by the fact the Uso (thankfully) sleeps like a rock. And while Sami thought that leaving the bed quietly would be the greatest struggle, leaving the room itself proves to be far more difficult. He just can't stop taking "one more look" at Jey, always finding some reason to linger a little longer.
But there's only so many times he can adjust the blankets, or fix his hair, or smile like an idiot over the snores and snorts, or giggle at the drool seeping onto the sheets. He only leaves with the comfort in knowing he'll get to see Jey like this again sometime, slipping out into the hallway, carefully easing the door shut as to not wake the taller.
Jey wakes up just six minutes later anyway, to the obnoxious family next door allowing their door to slam shut numerous times on their way to breakfast. He lifts his head from the mattress, furrowing his brow first at the noise, and then at the lack of Sami.
The bed is still warm, the pillow still dented, the sheets still fragrant, and Jey's somewhat peeved that Sami never woke him up to say goodbye. Yet, he's too exhausted to do anything about it, and too grateful he's still got an hour before his alarm to drift back off. So, he settles instead, clinging to the pillow the redhead was laying on while nestling in his spot on the bed. It's not Sami, but it's enough to make his heart swell and body soften, falling back asleep even through the racket of the halls.
●●●
"Alright, we'll touch base later, I need to check out," Paul nods to the producer before resuming down to the lobby.
Like a gaggle of ducklings, the group follows right behind him, just as they have for the entire morning. Paul's urged them to find anything else to do in the time before their car arrives to take them to the airport, but loitering in the lobby was deemed too boring, and a morning lift was a unanimous no among the family. Tagging along to Paul's activities was the only option that sounded somewhat appealing, even if the majority of the time was spent leaning against the wall on their phones while The Wise Man spoke business.
"You're all the clingiest set of thirty year olds I've ever met," He eyes them all as they descend in the elevator.
"Thirty- seven year olds," Solo corrects, smirking at the glare Jimmy gives him. "And one thirty-eight," He nods to Sami.
"And you ain't gon make it to thirty if you keep talkin'," Roman warns.
"See?" Paul gestures in the air around him. "You could've entertained yourselves in the twenty minutes it took for me to run my errands."
"Yeah, but we just wanted to go with you 'cause..." Jimmy trails off, looking to his family for assistance on his bullshitting.
"We wanted to protect you!" Jey comes to his aid with a big grin.
"Yeah!" Roman jumps in. "Nobody messes with our wise man!"
Paul rolls his eyes with a smile. "You're all a bunch of lying idiots."
The chief loops an arm over Paul's shoulders. "Nobody can say nothin' when you've got a Samoan security detail!"
The elevator grounds, chiming that they've arrived to the lobby. Paul tilts his head from side to side, thinking over the new outlook. "I could get use to that. You all can be pretty threatening."
"Yeah," Jey agrees. "And then there's Sami."
"Can we have one day?" The eldest groans at two men in the corner as the elevator opens. "Just one day where you're not bickering like children?"
" I could do it," Sami says.
"Oh, really?" Jey growls.
Solo pushes past Paul and Roman to leave the elevator. "They're already givin' me a headache."
Roman snatches Sami's arm, dragging him away from the younger twin. "All done," He patronizes, following Paul and Solo toward the front desk while Jimmy reprimands Jey paces behind.
Sami takes a look over his shoulder, something quick while Roman's preoccupied. Jey's already watching him, a glimmer of pride in his expression at their fabulous acting skills. It seems their years of hatred actually have some benefit after all. He lingers for a second too long, unaware that Roman's stopped, and bumps right into the taller.
He's fumbling out an apology before realizing Roman's attention is caught elsewhere. Sami follows his gaze to where Paul is being approached by a suited gentleman.
"Paul Heyman!" The man booms.
The Wise Man tenses immediately, forcing a smile. "Look what the cat dragged in," He jests, irritation seeping from every word.
The condescending smirk on the man's face is enough for the group to abandon their frustrations with Jey and Sami, shifting focus onto him.
"I haven't seen you in years ," He emphasizes. "Decades even! I think it was the year I got promoted to executive! And you left that company soon after, right?"
"I did," Paul nods stiffly.
"Why did you ever leave?" His green eyes narrow in faux confusion.
"Look, Lowell, it was nice catching up but I--"
"Oh! You were fired!" Lowell exclaims. "I remember now! I had to downsize the departments when I got the executive position," He frowns with backhanded pity. "It was so hard to have to do that."
The group inches closer to Paul in subtle solidarity, straightening into the forms they'd normally only take in the ring; flexed muscles, puffed chests, lifted chins, staring down at Lowell through their brows.
Lowell takes notice, his smile returning. "I see you've got the whole Bloodline with you."
"They don't go anywhere without me," Paul smirks, taking a quick glimpse that the group.
Sure, they were just joking with him earlier, finding some bullshit reason to explain why they were boredly following him around like lost puppies, a simple gag. Yet, given the circumstances, his boys really are the Samoan (plus Sami) Security Detail they laughed about being.
"How sweet," He gushes. "Guess I'll always know where to find you."
Paul furrows his brow. "Find me?"
"You haven't heard? I'm the newest WWE executive."
The manager can barely hide his true feelings, clenching his teeth so hard they all may crack out of his skull. He swallows back the bile rising in his throat long enough to close out the conversation, hopefully with enough fake chuckles and exaggerated excitement to front as entirely unbothered by the news.
The moment Lowell is out of earshot, the group crowds around Paul with a thousand questions, never ending even when he rubs his temples and walk to checkout without a word.
They don't get answers until they're settled in the SUV, Roman displaced to the middle seat so Paul can ride shotgun. They're all perked up like meerkats—direct words from the Wise Man—eager to listen to the stories and warnings Paul spills.
"He's a scummy, scummy businessman. I'm talking bottom of the barrel," Paul shakes his head. "Lowell Witte," He spits the name like it's poison on his tongue.
"Wait, I've heard of him," Jimmy interjects. "Back when Naomi was makin' her music video."
"Yes. He's everywhere. Like a parasite."
"He seems like a total douche," Roman adds. "Why'd we even hire him?"
"He's connected, he's smart, he's powerful," Paul turns to face the group. "You boys need to be very careful, understand?"
Solo furrows his brow. "He ain't gonna fire us, is he?"
"Not without reason, so don't give him one," Brown eyes land on the far back row, where Sami and Jey listen. "That means no fighting or acting like children."
It's an easy opportunity to make a jab at one another, but the moment is too volatile. Paul's serious. He's genuinely concerned for the fate of his group with the new executive addition, and they're both smart enough to just stay silent and nod along.
"He's got the power to take anyone down for anything," Paul straightens in his seat, nervously fidgeting with his tie. "He'll ruin you in wrestling, in Hollywood, in life," He turns to the window, watching the landscape as it comes and goes. "I've been waiting years for him to slip up so I can finally get him back for all the shit he's put everyone through."
"We'll help you get your lick back, OG," Jimmy attempts to lighten the mood, rallying the group to agree with smiles and reassuring comments.
Paul's nerves loosen, chuckling at their eagerness. "I appreciate it, guys, but just steer clear, alright? I'd get myself arrested if he tried anything with you all."
"And we'll get arrested if he tries somethin' with you," Solo crosses his arms.
They all chirp in accord, with Roman aiding in salvaging the mood of the car by changing the subject to whatever has been hit is playing on the radio. With attention shifted, Sami feels safe enough to slide his hand along the polyester seat until it reaches Jey's.
Jey's fingers lock around his quick, like he's been starved for the touch. They keep their faces level and their eyes apart while their thumbs trace shapes and playfully war for the remainder of ride.
It's like experiencing heartbreak to pull apart when they arrive at the airport. Every part of Sami's body feels magnetized to Jey, physically resisting the urge to connect as they pass through security and walk to their gate.
The plane ride to Minneapolis offers a temporary distraction, with enough time to convince himself he absolutely won't die in the few hours until they can be alone again. But that shred of sanity escapes his grasp when they're back on solid ground and waiting for transport to the hotel, all the Samoans shivering and swearing in the cold.
Jey fishes the jacket out from his bag before he freezes altogether, ignoring the eyes on him as he hurries to put it over his hoodie. While his family all stares, Sami turns his attention to the small kiosks still visible inside the airport and ponders if they sell liquor or blindfolds or straight willpower—really anything to hold it together from the sight of Jey publicly wearing his jacket.
"Where'd you get that thing?" Solo frowns at his brother, his confusion spiked with jealousy.
"It's weird, ain't it?" Jimmy pounces on the opportunity to beat a dead horse, elated someone else brought it up. "Not his style, not his size—"
"I already told you," Jey snaps. "This was the thickest one they had."
"And I already told you that I don't believe that."
"That ain't my problem."
"I wasn't askin' to start this shit," Solo says before Jimmy can bite back. "I'm askin' 'cause I'm cold and I want it."
"I'd like one too," Roman mumbles, mindlessly rubbing his hands up and down his biceps for warmth.
"I'm sure there's a Macy's around here somewhere," Paul sticks his hands in his pockets and watches the line of cars.
"An outdoor store would have better winter jackets," Sami informs, daring to look at Jey before adding. "Probably some that aren't so ugly."
"Ugly?" Jey squints his eyes. "I think I've seen somethin' like this in your closet."
Sami may have broke if it wasn't for Jimmy interrupting, effectively saving him from an awkward explanation on why he's laughing and blushing at Jey's reaction.
Instead, the taller twin steals attention and diverts emotion with his addition to the conversation.
"It wouldn't surprise me seeing Sami in that," Jimmy gestures to the jacket. "But you just look weird in it."
While Jey proceeds to bring up every stylistic failure Jimmy has ever made, the rest of the group's focus is hooked and Sami gets to stare with no consequences.
It's surreal truthfully. He still can't fully wrap his head around the fact that the guy he's looking at is infatuated with him. That this man—the most handsome man created since the Big Bang—is currently bundled up in his jacket. Willing, may he add, regardless of if it's 'ugly'. Sami's never been married, but this sight seems comparable to putting a rock on his finger, like he's called dibs on Jey without a single soul knowing.
He tries not to waste much time thinking about it. It wouldn't lead him to grasp the gravity of that fact anyhow, it never does. So, he bides the rare moment by admiring Jey's features in this setting. Even though they're all stained with frustration, Sami finds them enchanting in this light.
There's joy in seeing the little wrinkles on Jey's nose when he scrunches it at Jim, brows lowering over dark eyes and upper lip curling into a snarl. He's drawn to the way his lower jaw stiffens and extends outward slightly, straining the tendons on his neck. Sami can almost feel them against his lips, the memory of kissing and nibbling over them in their shared moments spilling into his mind.
"Our car's here!" Paul exclaims, throwing his hands up in praise. "I'm saved!"
It's unclear if he means from the cold or the bickering brothers, but he scurries away in record time to throw his luggage into the trunk. Sami follows behind for a worthy distraction while Roman attempts to call the argument a draw.
"Has there been one day we've traveled without anyone arguin'?" Solo questions once they're all seated in the van, the Usos abandoning the fight in lieu of fidgeting with the vents in hopes to get more heat.
"Not when Jey's here," Jimmy starts, sticking his frigid hands under thighs.
Jey rolls his eyes. "You act like you ain't fightin' with me half the time."
"My point exactly," He turns to face the younger. "You fight with me half the time and you fight with Sami the other half. But it's always you that's fightin'."
"'Cause y'all instigate it," Jey sinks down the seat, turning his body toward the window to shut everyone out. "Makin' me the villain," He mumbles under his breath.
Roman stops Jimmy before he says anything else, but it doesn't stop the twin from huffing and puffing over it, crossing his arms and staring out the window like a kid in time out. They both pout in the same manner for the remainder of the car ride, terribly similar even when they don't think they are. Nobody speaks. Nobody comments on the passing infrastructure or billboards or restaurants. Nobody cracks a joke about the cold when they're getting their bags from the trunk.
When Jimmy retrieves his key from the receptionist, he immediately starts toward the elevators without waiting for Jey's spare like usual. Nobody chases after him. Everyone knows their limit.
Sami expects Jey's eyes to find his at some point when they both receive keys to the same floor, but they never come. Jey just hustles off to his room wordlessly, leaving Sami to shuffle into his own pitifully, as if he was the one responsible for Jey's mood.
His fingers hover over his recent text message chains, the few people he has pinned as his favorites. Jey's the most recent, texts from this morning when he woke up and bitched at him for leaving. He itches to text now, ask if everything's okay and offer his support. It seems like the right thing to do, but he's never been anything but the target of Jey's wrath so he's truly not sure.
It's the safer option to give Jey space, even if it's not what Sami himself wishes to do. He keeps his phone close for when he inevitably loses his willpower and attempts to distract himself with his beloved daytime television. He's only halfway through the episode when his phone lights up with a text.
Jey: What room are you in?
Butterflies flutter in his stomach, kinetic energy extending outward all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. He's excited, jittery, barely keeping enough clarity to correct the mistake Jey plans to make.
Sami: You know you can't come here now. Someone will see you.
Jey: Not what I asked
His instincts battle against one another, one wishing to protect their secret and the other willing to risk everything to have him now. The latter is dangerous, but arguing back to Jey when he's in this mood is far more lethal.
Sami: 308
He waits to see if the text bubbles return, sliding to the edge of his bed in anticipation. The knock at his door comes around twenty seconds later, with a hooded figure brushing right past Sami upon answering.
"You okay after earlier?" Sami shuts the door and slowly approaches the younger, who's kicking off his sneakers at the foot of the bed.
It's impossible not to ask. Especially when Jey's daring to sneak off to his room in broad daylight, with several of their coworkers and authority figures roaming about. Sami's always been pretty good at sympathizing, he's even got a bit of a reputation as being his friends' therapist. He knows he could help.
"I don't wanna talk 'bout that," Jey dismisses, turning to grab Sami by the back of the neck and bring him to his lips.
This probably qualifies as helping too. Sure, it's not sitting and discussing complex feelings from a frustrating event, but it's beneficial to improving Jey's mood so it counts for something.
And it seems to be doing the trick. They kiss their way onto the mattress, settling into a comfortable position. The worry of being caught or interrupted stays present in the back of Sami's mind, but he can feel Jey's muscles loosening under his touch so he finds it best to avoid sharing the anxiety.
Instead, he does his best to focus on what's most important; the handsome Samoan in his lap licking into his mouth. He plans to train his brain to always focus on said Samoan, until it's just habitual to make the decision that pleases him best. Because truly, Sami's greatest happiness will always be Jey's.
Notes:
To anyone who doesn’t happen to read the other works I post, I’d like to state this here as well.
My updates may be a tad delayed as I work through the grief of losing my sibling. They always supported my writings, especially this one (I did not actually tell them it was a Jey/Sami fic but I spoke often with them about the premise and updates) and I don’t plan on abandoning these works. I just may need a bit of time.
Or perhaps, I may find myself extremely motivated to write because of them, and you’ll be getting updates constantly.
I do believe it’s the latter, but I wanted to explain myself in case it isn’t.
Much love to you guys!! I hope you’re well!
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