Erchomai [Ricochet/Adam Cole]

chapter 25: love, trevor

It's the evening three days after WarGames and Trevor is finishing packing for his flight to Kentucky that takes off in a couple hours. He'll be spending Thanksgiving with his mom, and he can't wait to be in the kitchen with her making sweet potato pie, ham, and the works. Though while he's excited, his mind keeps drifting to other things.

By other things, he means Adam.

Ever since the pay-per-view when they shared that embrace, Trevor hasn't been able to get him out of his head. It also doesn't help that their fans are perceptive and have figured out that something bad went down between them. Trevor still posts a lot but doesn't talk about Adam, so of course it makes sense that they would pick up on his absence. Adam himself hasn't posted in weeks. And when Adam Cole isn't taunting his opponents leading up to a Takeover event, there's a problem.

The more he'd been thinking about him these past few days though, the more Trevor had started to realize something. Maybe it was the apology before the show that did it. Or maybe it was Trevor's insane flip off the top of the cage that gave him clarity. Maybe it doesn't even matter. Because Trevor's been going through it enough lately to know he's not angry anymore.

He sits down on the edge of his bed, wondering what to do with that information. His phone is on the nightstand next to him and it'd be so easy to call Adam. But Trevor's not sure his mouth wouldn't fail him in that situation. A text, then? It isn't a terrible idea and would give him more control.

Yet as Trevor grabs his phone and pulls up Adam's contact to start crafting a text, he doesn't get far. Only types a few words, erases them, and then repeats the cycle before stopping.

It's not that he doesn't know what to say to him, but rather that he has too much. Shoving that into a text isn't really Trevor's style.

Trevor tosses his phone on to the bed beside him, rubbing his hands over his face as he sighs. When he removes them, his eyes are drawn to the laptop on his desk across from him that he still hasn't packed yet. With a fleeting glance at his phone, Trevor stands and wanders over to sit in his desk chair.

He blows a huff of air through his lips, staring at the screen of where he was confirming his flight time and tries to push aside the voice in his head saying, "Email him, email him." Come on. This isn't a teen rom-com. What are the chances that Adam still checks his email anyway?

But as his fingers ghost over the keyboard, Trevor's struck with a powerful surge of words that won't stick around in his mind forever. Words that he thinks would benefit both him and Adam. He looks at the digital clock on his laptop and sees he's still got time. So, with that, he pulls up his email, selects Adam's email, cracks his knuckles and types away.

Dear Adam,

I want to tell you the story of you and me from my eyes.

It starts with a lie. Obviously, I don't know that yet. So, we'll say it starts at the baseball game. I tell you I'm only there for the free food, though a part of me can't deny that your company brings back feelings I thought I left behind in the indies. I'm having a good time, of course. I always do when I'm with you, but I don't think about all that. I don't have time to anyway because you kiss me.

We're on the kiss cam and you kiss me without my consent, and those feelings I mentioned earlier are snuffed out in an instant. I'm pissed and you can tell but I have to call you out before you acknowledge it. Later you apologize and we make up and I tell myself you're going to be a good friend. Friend? Yeah. Right.

Pictures of us are posted and they're beautiful to everyone else but not to me because they're fake. You wanna make 'em real for your mom's sake at least. I agree because I apparently can't think of any other shit to do than go along with your scheme.