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Chapter Text

Theory made his way backstage, smiling dropping the moment he walked through the curtain. He was met in the guerilla with a group of crew members, light and sound tech, some men in suits from the business side of things. And Triple H himself. Hunter glanced up at him when he entered; his face was a mask of disapproval. 

It made his heart sink. 

Theory quickly moved to the exit, face burning red with shame. What the hell was that out there? He chastised himself, hurrying back to the locker room. He’d beaten Cena, but at what cost? A low blow. Cheap tactics. Was that all he’d ever be known for?

He felt a sinking weight in the pit of his stomach at the thought of going out in front of the crowd on Monday Night RAW. Cena had been right - win or lose, the crowd was going to eat him alive.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, walking briskly down the hall. He passed by Drew, dressed in his black tie best - he wasn’t wrestling tonight. He was adjusting his suit in the mirror, but he glanced over as the champion approached. 

“Nice match, Theory,” Drew said gruffly, eyebrows raised. 

Austin hesitated, licking his lips and taking a shaky breath. “Can we- talk?”

Drew tightened his ponytail and walked past him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he went. “Sorry. I don’t converse with cheaters.”

Theory felt a lump growing in his throat. He gave a jerky nod. Fresh tears welled up, stinging his eyes. He made it the rest of the way to the locker room.

He opened the door and was met with the sight of the Alpha Academy, sitting together and watching one of the TVs. when they saw Theory, they stood, quickly making their way to the door. “Guys - c’mon, you can stay. I wasn’t…”

Otis just shook his head, lumbering out without a word. Chad Gable went to follow him, then paused, glancing back. He took a deep breath. “Not your best work, man.” The door closed behind him, and Theory was alone.

He turned back, staring at the empty locker for several moments. It was silent, save for the TV still blaring in the corner. He shook his head, taking off the championship belt and walking over to the couch, collapsing onto it. The belt lay beside him, gleaming up at him. It seemed to taunt him; he looked away.

What was the problem? It wasn’t the first time he’d used underhanded tactics. He sure as hell wasn’t the first person to have done so. Why was everyone acting like it was the end of the world?

Theory sat there for a long time, replaying events in his mind. He just couldn’t understand why everyone hated him. Everyone . His boss, his peers, the fans. 

Am I really that horrible of a person?

Hell, even Roman had used low blows and the help of his family to win matches. To help him keep the championship. And he was revered for it. 

Theory sat up, frowning. Roman was a champion, just like him. He was celebrated; Theory was mocked. He wasn’t pretending like he was just as good as Roman Reigns - the experience gap alone was enough to give him pause. But he was better than Roman was at his age. Better on the mic, especially. The whole reason he’d been paired with Heyman in the first place was because he couldn’t talk to save his life. And the crowd knew it, too. They’d hated him for it.

He paused. The crowd used to hate Roman, too . For years and years. Champion or not, they booed him out of the arena. And he wasn’t even a heel.

Reigns went through years of ridicule and mockery. He lost friends over it. Sure, he had his family now, but just a couple months ago Zayn had done no better than flipped him off and walked out.

The Undisputed Champion had had his share of loneliness. 

Theory rubbed his hands slowly, glancing at the United States Championship. A title Reigns had once held himself. The crowd had hated him then, too.

He leaned back on the couch, exhaling deeply. People were fickle. Why should he try to please anyone but himself, anyway? He knew he was great. In time, others would come to know it, too.

Whether they wanted to or not.

Chapter Text

Xavier Woods clapped his hands as the cameras shut off. “Got it!”

The rest of the small group cheered, stances relaxing. 

“Do you think we’ll need another take?” Liv asked, trying to peek at the computer.

“Let’s find out.” As Xavier moved around to pull up the footage, a knock sounded on the door of the studio. He opened it curiously and broke into a grin. “Seth Rollins. What can we do for ya?”

The Architect cleared his throat, looking around. “Is Tyler in here?”

Xavier nodded, looking back. “Breeze!”

The blonde’s head looked up, brightening and bounding over. “Seth! We just finished filming your 2k23 simulation!”

Seth smiled and shifted. “Ah, yeah, speaking of… I had some questions about my ring gear - for my match-”

Xavier clapped Tyler on the shoulder and went back to review the footage. 

Tyler watched him and the others for a moment before tilting his head, glancing back. “Are you wearing it?” He tried to peek between the cracked door. 

Seth shook his head. “Well - not all of it. I’m, ah… can you just come with me?”

Tyler glanced back. “Well… I dunno if we’re finished filming this, but-” He broke off upon seeing Seth’s pleading face. “Okay.”

Seth’s shoulders slumped in relief; he opened the door enough to let Tyler out, revealing his outfit.

Tyler let out a happy squeal at the sight of Seth in his hot pink pants. “The color looks even better than I imagined!” he gushed. His eyes followed the fabric up to Seth’s hips, then further, gaze falling on his bare chest. He blushed and tilted his head. “Where’s the harness?”

“Harness? That’s a bit generous, don’t you think?” Seth scratched the back of his head, looking around. “I… I need you to help me figure out how to put it on.” 

Tyler clapped, delighted by this request as he nodded quickly. “Let’s go, your match is soon!” He took Seth’s hand and allowed the brunette to lead the way down the twisting halls, ending up in the makeup area. 

Some of the other superstars were getting dressed and ready; the makeup artists were hard at work. Tyler nearly fainted when he saw Rhea’s stunning makeup look. She winked at him as they walked past, leaving Tyler actually feeling faint for several moments after and setting off butterflies in his stomach.

Seth stopped in front of his table. The rest of his gear was laid out nicely, but the size alone had the red overcoat spilling over its entire length. 

Tyler, however, was more interested in what lay on top. He grabbed the pink harness and turned to Seth. “Does it fit?”

Seth shrugged helplessly. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to put it on.”

Tyler shook his head and smiled. “Come here, Sethie.” He unclipped the three buckles - two large ones beside each other and a separate, smaller one near the top - and looked up. “Okay,” he began, “we’re gonna start with these two. They wrap around you like this.” He took the harness and slipped his hands around Seth’s already oiled chest. 

The Architect grinned sheepishly. “Figured it would be too hard once everything was on.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Tyler wrapped the harness around and brought the buckles to the front, where they sat on his stomach and lower chest. “So these buckles here…” He did so, nodding approvingly as they fit snugly around Seth’s torso. “And then this part…” He took the remaining straps that draped down and lifted them, placing them on his chest. “Hold that and turn around.”

Seth obeyed, holding the straps in place.

Tyler stood on his tiptoes and brought the last buck up around his neck, clasping it into place. “Ta-da!”

Seth released the straps and turned to look in the mirror. He turned a bright pink. “Ty, this is - like - practically BDSM gear. Finn’s gonna murder me.”

The blonde scoffed, waving him off. “I haven’t even seen him here. His match is tomorrow night, anyway.” Seth turned to look at him incredulously. Tyler giggled. “C’mon, Sethie, I know it’s a bit out there, but - well, you like it, don’t you?” His smile dropped slightly, biting his lip. 

Seth glanced in the mirror again. “It’s insane, Ty.” He met Tyler’s gaze in the mirror and grinned. “I love it.”

“Really?” Tyler’s stance relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief. “It really does look amazing on you.”

Seth smiled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Ty. Now…” He turned to the table, where the giant coat of red sat with the rest of his outfit. “Help me put the rest of it on?”

Tyler nodded quickly, beaming. He grabbed two small pieces of fabric, silky red with gorgeous white lace trim. Wiggling his eyebrows, he held them up to Seth with a grin. 

“Gloves next.”

Chapter Text

“Seth.”

Fuck. He hadn’t even been backstage five minutes. Slowly turning around, he saw Finn standing in the doorway of the locker room, a small smirk on his face. 

The Irishman was dressed in a gorgeous crimson suit and tie, hair and beard neatly trimmed as always.

“H-Hi, Finn-” he began.

Finn didn’t let him get any further than that. Hand raised to quiet him, he stepped forward, letting the door swing closed behind him. “Congratulations on your match.”

Seth swallowed hard, giving a quick nod. 

“You seem nervous,” Finn mused, slowly walking up to him. Seth shook his head, going to speak but breaking off as Finn’s hand came up to cup his chin. “Your ring gear was… really something. Tyler designed it, I presume?”

Seth nodded rapidly, stuttering in an effort to say anything. “Mhmm… tell me, Seth, did you really think you were going to get away with wearing that?”

“I-I don’t-”

“Don’t play dumb.” Finn’s hand slid down, fingers twisting in Seth’s beard. He gave a firm tug, causing Seth to gasp quietly. “You know exactly what it looked like.”

The Architect cursed inwardly. Of course he knew what it looked like. He’d said as much to Tyler before the match. He knew he’d get in trouble for it, but he was hardly going to break Tyler’s heart. Besides, even Seth himself had to admit… it had looked damn good.

“Didn’t you?” Finn prompted again, breaking Seth out of his thoughts.

Seth swallowed and gave a slow, careful nod. 

“That’s what I thought…” Finn’s voice was low, carefully controlled as he leaned into Seth’s ear and whispered, “Get on your knees for me, angel.”

He started to protest, then thought better of it and slowly sank to his knees, looking up at Finn with large eyes.

The Irishman exhaled slowly, stepping closer. “What a good boy…” He ran a hand through Seth’s hair. The brunette’s eyes closed as he relaxed under his touch. Finn stooped to kiss him deeply, and Seth’s lips parted to receive it. His mouth opened as Finn’s tongue slid inside.

Seth let out a moan as Finn pulled away, panting softly. 

“Now, I want you to pay very close attention,” Finn said, standing up straight again. His hands came up to loosen his tie, sliding it off in a way that sent shivers down Seth’s spine. He smirked, folding it in half. “I’m about to teach you why I am the only one who’s allowed to bind you like that.”

Forty minutes later and Seth had indeed learned his lesson, shaking and sweating as he laid with his cheek on the locker room couch. His arms were pressed into his back, tied intricately with white rope. The same rope was wrapped around his ankles, his legs and thighs, forcing his legs to remain bent back. His feet were nearly touching his shoulder blades. His legs were spread for… access. His long hair was also tied back and attached to a separate rope. 

It was this rope that Finn gave a firm tug to, causing Seth to let out a quiet sound, eyes fluttering. The Irishman chuckled, standing slowly. “Well, angel?” His voice was soft as he stroked Seth’s hair. “Have you learned your lesson?”

Seth mewled, nodding quickly.

“And what did you learn?”

He shifted, mouth opening to respond, as the door to the locker room burst open.

Roman Reigns stood in the entrance, eyes dark and glinting. “Where is he?”

Finn glanced over and stepped aside, revealing Seth’s predicament on the couch. 

“Oh, fuck , Balor…” Roman licked his lips, glancing up at the Irishman. “Can… can I-”

“I was just finishing up,” Finn said with a smile. He was adjusting his tie back into place. Seth watched helplessly as he turned away from him and walked towards Roman. Finn clapped Roman on the arm. “He’s all yours.”

Moments later, Seth was alone with Roman. The Tribal Chief slowly approached him, letting out a deep rumble. “Seth…”

He shifted on the couch, panting heavily. “R-Ro…”

Roman smirked as he crouched down beside him. He stroked his hair. “Seems like you’re in a sticky situation, huh?”

Seth chuckled softly, eyes fluttered. He nodded.

“Tell me, baby,” Roman cooed, sliding his hand back to Seth’s hair. He grabbed the rope attached to it and yanked Seth’s head back, causing him to gasp. “What made you think you could wear something like that?”

He shuddered at the Samoan’s tone and opened his mouth to reply. “Ah ah-” Another light tug on the rope cut him off. “That was a rhetorical question.” Roman’s hand released the rope; Seth’s head fell forward, hitting the couch with a pant. “And we both know the answer, don’t we?” 

Seth gave a quick nod, unable to help wiggling his hips slightly in anticipation. Roman shook his head and chuckled, pinching his thigh as he stood. “Same as ever, baby boy.”

As Roman mounted the couch, Seth had a fleeting thought, one that made him want to simultaneously kill Tyler and kiss him. The thought that his Wrestlemania gear had hardly been an accident, that Tyler knew , of course he did, and more than that, really, because… when Seth really thought about it… the gear had been made to cause the reaction it got. It was simply… by design.

And the Tribal Chief, wasting no time, proceeded to teach Seth a lesson of his own.

Chapter Text

Dominik walked backstage with Finn and Damian, pulse pounding in his ears. The second they were past the guerilla he tore away from their arms, blinking back angry tears. 

“Ay, Dom, c’mon,” Finn began, walking after him. “I thought you did great, alright? You-”

“Shut up-” Dominik snapped. His fists clenched at his sides. 

“Listen, Bunny stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, that doesn’t mean-”

“So what?” Dominik spun around, tears starting to roll. “Even if he hadn’t, I still would’ve lost. I knew I was going to, that’s why I grabbed the chain.”

“Well, Rey deserved it,” Finn muttered, but Dominik felt anything but reassured. 

“Just- just leave me alone, okay?” He turned, half expecting them to chase after him. They didn’t, and the tears flowed. He made his way past the makeup area, brushing past both superstars and crew before they had a chance to stop him. 

“Dom?” He froze, wavering in place. “Baby? Are you okay?”

His vision blurred, swimming with fresh tears. He slowly turned around to see Rhea, sitting in her makeup chair in full ring-gear, ready to perform. Her face was full of concern. 

“Dominik?” Still concerned, but more serious. She sat up straighter, waving off the makeup artist for the moment. “What’s wrong?”

Dom hesitated, taking a big, deep breath, before suddenly bursting into tears. Positively alarmed now, Rhea got out of her chair, hurrying over and wrapping her arms tight around him. His shoulders slumped as his weight fell against her, tears coming thick and fast.

“Alright, alright, c’mere-” Rhea grabbed his hand, letting him lean on her as she guided him over to a nearby couch, somewhat out of the way of the main crowd. “Baby, c’mere,” she repeated, sitting down.

He trembled and collapsed beside her, clumsily, halfway in her lap as his head disappeared into her neck. He sobbed. 

Rhea shushed him gently, arms wrapped around him as best she could. She rocked him slowly. One hand was rubbing his nape, softly scratching his hair. 

After several minutes, his cries slowed. He was still shaking, face a red and puffy mess. His eyes felt swollen and stiff from the drying tears. When he sniffled, he could feel the snot above his lip.

“Hey…” Rhea spoke for the first time in a while, listening to his sobs ease. She reached down with a tissue, wiping up his nose. “Look at me.”

Dominik hiccupped, shaking his head and pressing closer. 

“Baby, look at me. C’mon. It’s alright.”

Slowly, waveringly, Dom’s head lifted, looking up at Rhea with a somber gaze. She gave him a gentle smile and grabbed a new tissue to dab his tears. He looked away, face now burning in embarrassment, but Rhea’s hand cupped his cheek and turned it back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, eyes kind.

He hiccupped, shaking his head slowly. “S-Stupid…”

“Not at all,” Rhea said firmly. “What’s this about?”

Dominik wiped his face messily, leading to Rhea dabbing it clean again. “M-My match…” he whispered. “I did terribly.”

Rhea scoffed. “Terribly? Baby, were we watchin’ the same match?”

“I-I don’t know…” he said miserably.

She cupped his face. “I thought you wrestled brilliantly. Not your fault some stupid rapper-”

“No, but that’s the point!” Dom protested, sitting up straighter. His heart was twisting, he just needed her to understand - “I-It wasn’t just Bunny, I was doing bad before him t-too… Dad was kicking my ass.”

“Hey,” she said, shifting up as well. She met his gaze steadily. “First off, don’t call him that. He lost his right to be your father a long time ago.” Dom glanced at her and nodded. “Second, I don’t care that you almost lost, that you did lose, would lose. Whatever. Y’know why?”

“Why?” he whispered, listening close.

“Cause you went out there and fought the man who did so much crap to you. Who keeps doing it. You went out there, ya looked him in the eyes, and you said no more.” Rhea smiled softly at him. Her words were stern, but full of genuine care and meaning. “You didn’t let him make you scared. You stood up to him. That takes a hell of a lotta guts. Doesn’t matter that you lost the damn match.”

Dominik swallowed, examining her face. He could feel more tears welling up in his eyes, the lump growing in his throat.

She cursed softly, dabbing his eyes. “Dom-”

“Y-You mean it?” he asked, gaze yearning.

Rhea relaxed slightly. “Of course I do. I’m so incredibly proud of you, baby. I would be no matter what.”

His heart fluttered, seeming to lift at her words. His body relaxed in her arms. “That alone m-makes you better than him.”

She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Always,” she murmured.

Dominik glanced up at her, taking a shaky breath. “Sorry for scaring you…”

“Don’t be. I was worried ‘cause I care, baby.” She stroked his cheek. “Are you feeling any better?”

He nodded, hiccupping. “I think… I owe Finn and Damian an apology.”

“Mmm… I bet they’re concerned, too.”

“Didn’t come after me,” he mumbled. “When I was upset. Can’t be that w-worried…”

“Oh, darling,” Rhea smiled, kissing his nose lightly. “They wanted to give you space. I guarantee you they’re worried sick.” 

He looked down. A light headache was forming from all the tears. She was probably right. Hell, she was always right. His head lifted again. “You gotta… get ready for your match, huh?”

“I do,” she murmured. Her hand continued to caress his nape, making his eyes flutter. “But I’ll be with you right after.”

“Don’t- don’t b-be thinking of me, during your match.” Dominik croaked out. “I don’t want to distract you. This match, it’s-”

“Everything,” Rhea agreed. “But I’m afraid you’ll be on my mind regardless.”

“I’m sorry…”

Rhea smiled, lifting his head again and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes closed briefly, kissing back. “Sorry? Baby…” she said, laughing softly. Her eyes twinkled at him as she whispered, “I always think of you. How do you think I always win?”

Chapter Text

One, two, three!

The crowd’s chanting, followed by the subsequent deafening cheers, had Rhea’s head spinning as she lay on the mat. She’d done it. She’d won.

Through the fog of disbelief, she felt the ref grab her hand, helping her to her feet as the announcer called out.

“Your winner… and NEW Smackdown Women’s Champion… Rhea RIPLEY!” She drew the syllables out and the crowd’s screams grew louder, drowning out everything else from Rhea’s mind. The belt was wrapped around her waist, and her hand was lifted in the air. 

The crowd roared, and she smiled wide, laughing and letting out a victorious yell. “YEAH!”

Damian laughed and offered her another shot. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

She took it and knocked it back, slamming it on the table with a grin. “I’m the bloody world champion, Priest. Nothing’s touching me tonight.”

“It might in the morning,” Finn said with a smirk, but he waved down the bartender nonetheless. 

Dom was sitting beside Rhea, admiring the title on the table and occasionally looking at her with an adoring gaze. He’d stolen kisses on her cheek several times already; she thought she could still feel her nerves tingling where his lips had pressed so sweetly.

She glanced at him and smiled, ruffling up his hair. “What’d ya think of my match, baby, hmm?”

His eyes fluttered, body going limp at her touch. “I thought you did great,” he said earnestly. “Best match I’ve ever seen.”

“Of mine, or of all time?”

“All time,” he replied confidently, causing the other three to laugh. 

Damian cuffed him around the head. “Hey, I’ve had some pretty good matches.”

Dom flushed and opened his mouth to respond, but Rhea beat him to it. “But have you ever pinned Charlotte Flair?”

Damian grunted. “No…” 

Rhea raised her shot glass and winked. “He said what he said.”

As they all laughed, Damian shook his head and took another swig of his beer.

The bartender walked up with another round of drinks, including a flight of beer and several more shots. Finn grabbed the flight and Rhea took the shots; Dom, after several sheepishly moments, grabbed the strawberry margarita that remained on the tray. 

Rhea grabbed a shot glass and slid it to Dom. “Do one with me?”

He glanced at it and turned pink. “Oh- I dunno, hard liquor’s not really-”

“C’mon baby, please? It’s my night. Our night.” She softly cupped his chin, pecking his lips. “Mmmm… strawberry.”

His cheeks flushed brighter, and he gave a quick nod. “O-Okay, I’ll do one.”

Damian grinned and nudged him. “That’s my man. Way to represent los hispanos , eh?” Dom smiled at Damian’s encouragement, nodding and grabbing a shot. 

Rhea held hers up to him. “Ready?” she asked.

He nodded again. They clinked their glasses together, tapped them on the table and threw them back. 

Rhea set her glass down and let out a breath as the warmth slid down her throat, turning to watch Dom’s attempt. 

The younger man swallowed his down and coughed. His cheeks flushed, eyes widening slightly.

“All good, Dom?” Finn asked, grinning wide.

He coughed and nodded, shakily taking a sip of water. 

Rhea ruffled his hair and pulled him close with a smile. “That’s my Dom Dom.” He looked over with a weak smile, and she cupped his chin gently, nails lighting digging into his skin. He turned pinker as she lifted his chin and pressed a deep, black lipstick-colored kiss to his lips. 

Dom sat back with a wide-eyed, slightly dazed expression; Finn laughed as Damian wolf-whistled.

Back at the hotel, Rhea gently laid the belt on the large desk, admiring it for several moments.

“I really did think you had the best match,” Dom said softly, already laying in bed. 

She smiled, eyes tired but full of happiness, glancing back at him. “Thanks, baby.” Her hand slid across the belt, fingertips tracing the patterns. “I was pretty proud of it, too.” 

Her heart warmed at Dom’s widened smile. She slipped out of her socks and walked over to the bed, changed into a much comfier sleep tank top and pants. 

Dominik’s arms opened wide, reaching for her. 

She chuckled. “Missed you, baby,” she said softly, climbing in beside him.

His head tilted, shifting to wrap his arms around her and snuggle close. “We were together most of the day.”

“Mhm, but not for our matches.” She reached a hand up, running her fingers through his hair. 

He let out a soft sound and melted. 

She smiled, continuing. “Missed you during my match.”

“Missed you too, bunches and bunches,” he mumbled against her shirt.

“But I got to spend the rest of the day with you, yeah? And it’s alright. Y’know why?”

Dom’s head peeked up, eyes round and soft as they met her gaze. He softly shook his head. “Why?”

Rhea’s smile softened, thumb stroking his jaw. “Because the whole time I was out there, all I thought about was you.”

Chapter Text

The two superkicks connected at precisely the same time, sending Sami sprawling onto the ring floor once again. The Uso twins’ kicks had been brutal tonight, and it didn’t seem like relief was coming anytime soon. 

Kevin had just been knocked back out of the ring. Sami knew he was laid out somewhere nearby; he knew he wouldn’t get up. 

His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his ears. Jey’s hand grabbed his jaw, then his shoulders, yanking him up to his knees. Sami could barely keep himself upright, but he managed as first Jimmy and then Jey hit him with yet another round of superkicks. They gave him another double dose, and he collapsed again.

Sami’s brain was buzzing and he could hardly see straight. Jimmy was sliding out of the ring, going to look for Kevin.

Another superkick to the jaw sent Sami reeling as everything went black.

They’d handcuffed Kevin to the ring ropes. Wasn’t this overkill?

The Royal Rumble had been a downright exhausting night for everyone involved, including Sami. They’d all sat and watched the men’s Rumble from the locker room. There was a certain tension in the air when Cody won. It hit Sami so hard he’d gotten up to leave, but the large, strong hand of the Tribal Chief had gripped his shoulder and forced him back down. Firmly. 

Of course he couldn’t leave. His final test was tonight. 

His final test was staring him in the face as the Bloodline took turns decimating Owens with a series of superkicks and stomps and blows. 

Hadn’t he already passed his final test? Hadn’t that been what Survivor Series was all about? He’d stopped the ref’s count. Low-blowed Kevin to save Jimmy. Even Helluva-kicked him at Roman’s express orders. 

Wasn’t that enough?

Now there was a steel chair. Roman was gripping it firmly, looking over Owens with a sort of sadistic satisfaction. He raised it, and Sami felt something tighten in his chest.

No. 

Suddenly Sami was in front of Kevin, shielding him from the inevitable chair shot. The crowd was going crazy, but he barely registered them. His attention was on the Tribal Chief, and the look that he gave Sami as he slowly lowered the chair.

He stumbled back, pleading with him. Hadn’t it been enough? He’d beaten Owens, and then he’d beaten Owens, and clearly they would never have any issues with him again.

Roman’s tone was harsh, but his words were harsher. 

“This is my family on the line, you understand that?” he snapped, getting into Sami’s face. “This is my whole damn life!” He shoved Sami’s face, barking at him. He slapped him. His eyes were darker than an oncoming storm. He’d never spoken to Sami like this. 

That wasn't true. 

Sami could feel the tears welling in his eyes. Heyman was mocking him from ringside. Roman grabbed Sami’s beard, yanking him closer as he continued to yell at him, to break him down.

And then the chair was forced into his hands. 

That stupid chair. Those decisions, everything that had led to this, rushed through Sami’s mind. He was slumped in the corner of the ring, half supported by the turnbuckle and half supported by Jey.

The younger Uso twin was slapping him, grabbing his beard and pinning him in the corner as he  yelled. He was trying to make Sami feel small. He was shouting about his family. 

Sami heard everything that was said. He felt the sting of the slaps, the concerned crowd noise rising over it all. But he did nothing. 

He took the words, and he took the slaps, and he let himself absorb it all without worry. His eyes were dull and unfocused, swimming with sweat and perhaps some tears as his vision of Jey blurred. 

It hurt. It all hurt. But Sami had long since grown numb to the pain.