Chapter Text
to see if i still bleed
There are certain things you don’t do at work.
You don’t date other coworkers.
You don’t sleep on the job.
You don’t call your boss by his first name.
You definitely don’t threaten him either.
“Hunter!”
Seth’s voice, amplified by the microphone gripped with white knuckles in his hands, echoes through the depths of the backstage loud and clear. It’s reminiscent of a thunderclap, the rage before a summer storm really hits. It sounds like the old Seth, the one that maybe, three years ago, Roman would’ve admired for his stubborn independence. The one that didn’t take no for an answer and would never let himself be used for someone else’s gain. The one that demanded attention.
That Seth was the one that had Roman’s, and everyone else’s attention right now, even after he’s vacated the ring. No one is going to forget this.
Not that Roman could ever forget Seth. Even after he’d stabbed him in the back in front of the world, as much as he’d wanted and tried his hardest to, he’d never been able to let him go. Not really. Part of him knew, deep down, that he never would, no matter what.
That was an inconvenience, yeah, but at the same time, Roman is kind of glad that he was never able to let go of Seth. Because now, as he turns the corner and sees him at the end of the hall, he doesn’t really feel all that bad about the swell of happyproudworrylove that rises in his chest.
Seth’s head snaps up the moment he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Samoa Joe’s really done a number on him, but it’s not like Seth has been the most popular guy in the locker room for the past four years anyway. It’s probably routine now, especially with his bum knee being an obvious target.
Seth had been making his way down the hall, one hand on his crutch, the other palming the wall, though when he saw Roman, he stopped dead in his tracks. His shoulders relaxed, but only slightly, and for a moment, he took his eyes off of Roman to direct his gaze at the floor.
“Hey,” he says, sounding tired and low, completely opposite of the growling, angry avenging angel that had been in the ring not too long ago.
“Hey,” replies Roman. “Some show.”
Seth snorts softly, a grin stretching across his face. “I’ll fucking say.”
The crutch trembles –has been trembling- and Seth leans heavily on the wall with a grunt. Roman crosses the short distance between them, reaching out to steady him and help him down when it looks like he’s going to huddle on the floor instead. “Hey,” Roman says, surprised at how gentle his own voice is, “you good? Need to call a trainer?”
Seth shakes his head. “I’m okay. Just…need to rest my knee.”
Roman nods, standing there feeling awkward, eventually opting to just take a seat on the floor next to Seth. He at least remembers to keep an acceptable amount of space between them, but somehow he can still feel Seth shaking.
“What’s going on?”
Seth looks at him. “Huh?”
“You’re…uh, you’re shaking.”
Seth’s eyes widen slightly and he immediately looks at the ground, looking sheepish. “Oh.” He bends his knee, the good one, up to his chest, stretches out the bad one further to find some comfort. “Adrenaline, I think.” He laughs softly. “I’ll be honest, my heart was beating a mile a minute out there. I’m not scared,” he adds sharply, like he’s betting on Roman insinuating a fear of Triple H following through on his threat, “more like…excited? Like, this is it. This is it. I’m about to go head-to-head with biggest name in the industry. This is what I’ve been dreaming of since I was, like, six years old. I’ve done a lot of shit to get here, but…I made it.”
Seth nods once, twice, like he’s trying to reassure himself. “I’m gonna make it count.”
Roman eyes him slowly, carefully. He knows better than anyone how shitty some of the things Seth has done are. He’d been involved in most of them. But still, no one could deny that despite the road Seth took to get to where he was had been less than humble and honest, he’d worked damn hard to be there. He was going to make it count, he said.
“I know you will,” he says.
Seth looks up at him like he wasn’t expecting Roman to come out and tell him that in some degree, he had his back in this. He blinked, once, twice, and then nodded.
Then they settled into silence, Seth leaning his head back against the wall with his eyes closed, and Roman sitting next to him listening to Seth calm his breathing. Eventually, he stops shaking, and just looks exhausted. Roman remembered an injury of his own back in FCW, remembered how tired he always felt when he was doing anything but resting. Seth had come out and basically sealed his own fate in nerve-wracking fashion on a previously injured knee –Roman was willing to bet he was beyond tired.
“You should go home,” he tells him.
“I will.”
“And rest.”
“Yeah.
“On the couch. Not in a gym.”
Seth laughs softly. “You know, out of all the things I miss from back then, your mothering isn’t one of them.”
His eyes are still closed; Roman can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
Roman finds himself struggling to find words suddenly, like what he wants to ask has become lodged in his throat. Deep down, he knows why; he’s scared of what he’ll hear, the answers he’ll get if he does ask. Seth’s never been shy about cutting off pieces of anyone ever. For everything that was good about him, his ability to tear you down with some well-placed words was the worst in him.
“Did you mean it? What you said out there?”
Seth sighs out, long and deep, like the question itself tires him out and the answer bores him.
“I know what you want to hear,” he says softly. “And yeah, I meant it. I meant all of it. I do wonder if this,” he gestures lazily in the direction of his injured knee, “is what I deserve for everything I’ve done. Like really bad karma, you know? Everything damnable thing I’ve ever done just coming back full force. I wonder if everything I’ve done was worth it. I don’t like what I’ve done, but it’s too late now. Too late for realizations. But…”
Seth’s eyes flicker open then, half-lidded and blinking tiredly at the wall across of him.
“But I still don’t like what I’ve become.”
Roman can feel relief simmering warmly in his chest; that was all he ever wanted from Seth, an acknowledgement. An acknowledgement of what he once had, acknowledgement of what he’d become. An acknowledgement of the truth.
And now here it was and it feels…rather hollow.
He’d only ever wanted Seth to tell him the truth. He hadn’t wanted it to take a career-threatening injury to pry the words out of him. It was bittersweet.
Seth sighs again, only this one sounds more relaxed than tired. “That was cathartic,” he says. “Feels good to get that off my chest. Not stellar, but I don’t quite feel like death warmed over anymore.”
“How long have you been mulling that over?”
Seth blinks thoughtfully. “Probably since the brand split. Maybe a little after the stint with Balor and the Universal title. Started realizing that it’s kind of stupid to trust a guy who was buddies with the dirtiest player in the game. When he Pedigreed me during the match with Owens, that kinda sealed it: Triple H was no different than when he turned on Shawn Michaels years and years ago. Any guy who turns on his own best friend is not the kind of guy you want to trust.”
“Learn from the best, huh?” Roman didn’t mean to say that out loud, but something about slipping in a low blow long overdue feels sort of good. To his credit, Seth doesn’t even wince.
“You’re right,” he says easily. “I was kind of a dick. But let’s be clear, this is not me trying to become a good person. I’m not trying to atone for anything. I know the kind of guy that I am, and I can’t be anything that I’m not.”
A small part of Roman knows that Seth isn’t a good person, never will be. Doesn’t mean it stings less when he hears it said out loud. “Then what are you trying to do?”
Seth’s eyes harden for a moment. “Simple. Get revenge.”
Roman glances at him. “I don’t think anyone’s ever really as good a person as you think.”
“Some people can rise above their base instincts,” Seth explains placidly. “They can be selfless. Y’know, turn the other cheek, be the better man, all that sentimental fortune cookie bullshit. The rest of us just manage. Sometimes it’s better that way.”
“And other times?”
“Other times….” Seth sighs. “It sucks.”
“Do you want to be better?”
“In this line of work?” Seth shakes his head. “That’s suicide. Show any sign of weakness and they’ll walk all over you. But sometimes I think, maybe it would be nice.”
Roman glances at him. “Being the better man isn’t weakness.”
Seth shrugs, continues not to meet Roman’s gaze. “It is if you find yourself fighting a snake.”
“Kill them before they kill you?”
“Lightning always strikes twice. I won’t let him strike me again.”
“Some people would call that paranoia,” says Roman.
“Maybe so. Those people don’t live long enough to tell the story though.”
Roman snorts, shaking his head. “And here I thought Ambrose was the only crazy one here.”
Seth grins. “We jump off of Titantrons for a living, Rome. We’re all a little crazy.”
Roman agrees, but not only because he beats people bloody for a living; he’d have to be crazy to still be this fond of a man who jut admitted to him that he didn’t think it was worth it to be the better man. He was always going to be a liar and a cheat and a cutthroat. Roman shouldn’t be okay with that.
But somehow, it’s all he’s known coming from Seth. In a weird way, Seth has always been like this, it’s just that Roman had been watching from the sidelines. He’d never had it turned on him.
“So what are you now?” asks Roman.
Seth pauses, frozen in place as though he’s debating whether or not to answer. He turns slowly to face Roman, and when their eyes meet, Roman knows Seth already knows what’s coming. “What am I?”
“You said you don’t like what you’ve become. What are you now?”
Seth blinks, then smiles softly. He shakes his head. “Same thing I’ve always been.”
Seth has always intrigued Roman. Everything about him was a puzzle, the way he thought, the way he spoke, the way he moved. It was all calculated, all concealed, like a cloak and dagger operation that never stopped. Like Seth had to keep changing identities, crafting some sort of idea of himself in order to please others, make them trust him, depend on him for stability, friendship. Then, once he had you, once he was finished with you, he cut you off; like severing an artery.
A real assassin.
Or, at least, that’s what Roman thought. He was pretty sure that lots of people who’d come in contact with Seth Rollins probably shared the same idea. He was the worst kind of person, someone who knew how to look into your head and turn you inside out with his eyes and words. Roman had never been quite sure how Seth really saw himself; a liar? A thief? God’s last gift? But now he knew. He suspects he always knew, but had never truly believed that someone like Seth could ever be capable of it.
“And what would that be?” he asks.
It makes perfect sense. Seth blinks, like he knows that Roman is already privy to the answer. He’s half-right.
“A monster.”