Road to Wrestlemania 2020: A Buddy Murphy Fanfiction

February 19, 2021: The Beginning of the End?

I looked at the wall and cocked my head to the side. "You know, I just noticed that you had 'Finally Admitted We Like Each Other' written on that." I pointed up to the framed piece Murphy had gotten me for Valentine's Day. "I guess I just thought that was normal when I first read it."

I felt Murphy shake as though he was trying not to laugh, "you just noticed?"

"I never said I was smart." I chuckled lightly. "I also just realized that you used our Disney date as our first date."

"One, you're very smart. Two, I figured that date was more fun to remember than our 'first' date, at which you nearly died."

"You do have a point." I looked over at him. He was flipping through channels, looking bored out of his mind. "How did you remember the day we met? I didn't even remember the exact date."

He clicked off the TV and turned toward me. "I actually asked Alexa if she remembered. We just kind of figured it out from there. January 3rd is the date we are most sure about."

I smiled. "That was a lot of effort. You're the best."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It had been nearly a week since Valentine's Day. Things around home had been tense, to say the least. We were both, very obviously, avoiding the talk that we knew we had to have. He had seen every mild panic I'd had over the past couple of months when marriage came up, and I was delusional to think he had written them off as nothing.

Still, I didn't want to burst the comfortable, loving bubble we'd created for ourselves. Aside from the jealousy, I felt toward the whole thing with Aalyah, our relationship had been perfect. At least, up until now. In that bubble, he'd shown me a whole new world of love and kindness that I didn't want to lose. I couldn't. It would actually kill me. Death by broken heart was definitely a thing.

It already felt like it was slipping away though. He stopped inviting me to the gym every morning. We usually passed the days with endless sarcastic banter, but this week we'd barely spoken except at meals and when we were getting into bed. This was the first time Murphy had sat down next to me in the middle of the day all week.

It was almost like it used to be. In early 2020, we stayed in separate hotel rooms, talked only when we were in the car together, touched only when we were on-screen, and excluded each other out of as much as possible.

My chest ached at the thought. I blinked, trying to get the comparison of then and now out of my mind. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away and pushed myself off the couch.

I felt Murphy's eyes on me as I left, but I ignored it and walked up to our bedroom. I wanted nothing more than to be next to him on the couch with his arm around me, trash-talking the characters of whatever stupid show we were watching. But I couldn't do that when we were barely speaking.

Tears continued to stream down my cheeks as I sat on the floor next to our bed. The last time I cried over him, we had also needed to have a difficult conversation. That talk had resulted in us finally admitting that we had feelings for each other. I doubted this talk was going to end so well.

The door opened and I wiped my eyes. I didn't want Murphy to see me cry so I looked down at my legs. He sat across from me on the floor. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, "do you want to tell me why you're crying?"

I shrugged.

Yes!

That annoying inner-voice of mine was already on my nerves. But, this time, she was right. I did want to tell him. I wanted us to talk this out and be okay. I just knew it wasn't that easy.