His reflection in the mirror shows a man whose face is etched with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Dark circles clung to his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights and days filled with the meticulous rituals of wound care. His normally chiseled frame is marred by the maze of bandages that hugged his skin.
With a heavy sigh, Matt gingerly stands up, wincing as the movement pulls at the tender skin beneath the dressings. Each step is a reminder of the agony he endured in that unforgiving Asylum Match with Maniac at Art of War. As he shuffles towards the living room, his mind replays the chaotic spectacle that had left him battered and broken.
The TV buzzes to life, casting a bluish glow across the room. The audience erupts in cheers as the replay of the Asylum Match begins to play out on screen. The relentless clash of metal against flesh, the explosions from the C4 sending shrapnel piercing into the bodies, the electrifying tension in the air, and the palpable hatred between Matt and Maniac were all on display. It was a battle that had pushed them both to their limits, to the point, neither man nor the ring itself was in any shape to finish the match.
He thought about the interaction with Jeremy afterwards. They had almost kissed. The moment replayed in his head as vividly as the rerun of Art of War playing on his TV. A deep sigh gushes from his nostrils and he chews furtively on his bottom lip in a contemplative fashion.
A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts. He hobbles over, his body protesting with every movement. With a twist of the doorknob and, to his surprise, Sean Parker stands in the doorway. His own body bore the marks of the same event, a testament to the brutal match he had endured with Fallen. A bandage is wrapped around his head and he’s on crutches, his right knee ensconced in a black elasticated brace.
(Sean): Wow, mate, you look like shit.
An involuntary chuckle emanates from Matt as he rolls his eyes and stands aside, allowing Sean to hobble in.
(Matt): Yer not exactly looking like a focking bed of roses yerslef, so you are.
Both men laugh as Sean ambles into Matt’s living room, moving towards the sofa, placing the crutches at an angle against the arm and plonking himself down.
(Sean): What’s the prognosis then?
Matt delicately walks towards the living room too, being very calculated and methodical in his movements as he gently sits down next to Sean.
(Matt): Ach, nothing to write home about, lad. Some burns, a few cuts, I’ll be right as rain, so I will.
Sean glances round at Matt, seeing the pain and discomfort he’s in. You can’t even see any exposed flesh from his neck down, such is the severity of the burns he suffered as well as the cuts and lacerations received thanks to the barbed wire.
(Sean): Mhm, just some burns, a few cuts, my arse. Mate, you look like you could be an extra in the next Mummy movie, I’m half-expecting Brendan Fraser to come bursting through your door any minute.
Matt can’t help but laugh and he holds his hands up in mock innocence.
(Matt): Ok, ok, ok. It’s a bit bad. It’s a pain in the arse is what it is, mate. Can barely move without the cuts opening up, I’ve gotta change these stupid dressings every two hours.
As they talk, Sean's eyes fall on the stack of medical supplies that litter the coffee table. Tubes of ointments, rolls of bandages, and bottles of disinfectant crowd the space, a stark reminder of the relentless care that their wounds demanded..
(Sean): Looks like a damn field hospital.
There is a mix of amusement and weariness in Sean’s voice. Matt chuckles softly, though the movement tugs at his wounds.
(Matt): Tell me about it. The doctor gave me a list of things as big as Hell’s Guardian and I feel like I'm running a triage center here, so I do.
He looks round at Sean, eyes flitting to the bandage around the top of his head and the knee brace.
(Matt): And what about you, hop-along?
Matt tenderly extends a finger, motioning to Sean’s head before pointing to his knee.
(Matt): What’s the damage?
Sean stares down at his knee, gingerly lifting his leg up.
(Sean): Doctor says it’s a sprain on my kneecap, should be ok with a few weeks rest. Said I was lucky it wasn’t a double leg break and that he’s surprised my knee’s still in one piece.
(Matt): Well, ye did a shooting star press from 45 feet in the air, Sean… I mean, Jesus Christ, lad.
Sean looks around at Matt with an incredulous look on his face.
(Sean): Comin fae it! Mr “I’ll just do a double-rotation from the top of a barbed wire-laced ladder onto an exploding ring filled with fire and gasoline”.
Sean scoffs comically as he rolls his eyes..
(Sean): Besides, it’s my napper he’s worried about.
(Matt): What do you mean?
Sean points to his temple..
(Sean): My third concussion in three months. Says if I keep going the way I am…let’s just say I’m not going to have an enjoyable retirement…
Matt looks little worried by the connotations of Sean’s cryptic revelation.
(Matt): Meaning what exactly? Yer not talking CTE?
Sean doesn’t say anything, he just raises his eyebrows subtly. Matt’s mouth goes slightly agape as he leans back on the couch.
(Matt): Fockin’ hell, mate…
(Sean): Hey, it’s not like I actually have it. I’m not going all Chris Benoit, mate.
(Matt): Don’t even joke about that, lad. Look, I know I’m not exactly the poster-boy for telling people to watch what they’re doing in the ring, but ye gotta be fockin’ careful, so you do, lad.
(Sean): Doctors have to say shit like that mate, they’ve got protocols to cover. It’s like when you’re absent three times in six months in the office, you get that warning.
(Matt): Mate, I’m serious. Yer gonna have to be careful. I’m not gonna watch one of my best mates kill himself in the ring before he’s 30. You need to start taking care of yourself in the ring. I know what happened with Fallen was fockin’ horrible and I commend ye on handling it the way ye did, so I do. But think about Michelle, lad. What’s it gonna do to her if ye keep doin’ shite like this. And what about Butch? He’s gonna wrap ye in cotton wool if ye don’t start being careful.
(Sean): You’re acting like I’m taking all these risks and putting myself in harm’s way, mate. It’s not like I’m going to be having death matches and street fights every single week! Every one of my head knocks was because of what’s been going on with Fallen and that’s done now. I know I like to take risks but I’m not stupid enough to put my life in danger!
Matt just looks at Sean, his eyes narrowed slightly. Sean sees his look and tries to reassure his friend..
(Sean): I’m serious, Matt. Do you not think it’s a wake-up call for me? Being told I can’t compete because my brain needs to recover? Do you not think I sat in that hospital bed, shitting myself whilst I tried to put on a brave face for Michelle who looked like she was about to burst into tears. I know we all take risks in the ring, you and I especially, because of our in-ring styles, it’s what we do, we’re high-flyers. But I swear, I’m not going to take risks for the sake of it. You think I enjoy having concussions? The dizziness, the vertigo, the queasiness, feeling like there’s someone inside my head hitting the inside of my forehead with a rock hammer? It’s f*cking horrible, mate.
(Matt): Ok, ok, I believe ye, lad, I believe ye. So, tell me, whose scarier? Michelle’s dad or Wisdom?
Both men burst out laughing.
(Sean): I’m not going to even entertain that mate.
(Matt): In all seriousness though, it was pretty great they came to Florida for the event.
(Sean): I know, neither of us had any idea they would be there. We knew they’d be coming to Havoc for it being in Salt Lake City but seeing them in person…seeing them standing in front of me… like that acknowledgement… I dunno man, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.
(Matt): Well, I’m happy for you, so I am, lad. About time you and Michelle caught a break.
(Sean): Thanks mate….and what about you?
(Matt): What about me?
Sean gives Matt a knowing look..
(Sean): Come on, mate, how long have we known each other? You know what I’m talking about. You and Jeremy… what’s going on there?
Matt furrows his brow and dismisses Sean with a wave, albeit labored, of his hand..
(Matt): There’s nothing to tell.
(Sean): Bullshit, I know something happened.
(Matt): Nothing happened!
(Sean): Ok then, something nearly happened.
(Matt): Nothing fockin’ happened, Sean, alright?
(Sean): Ok, man, f*ck, chill. You know it wouldn’t change anything if something did though, right?
(Matt): I’m not gay, Sean.
(Sean): No one’s saying you are, mate, alright? Look, you can’t help you get feelings for, sparks fly and you just gotta roll with it sometimes. Just because you might be attracted to or have feelings for Jeremy doesn’t mean you're gay and you know what? Even if you were, it doesn’t mean a f*cking thing. Who cares?
(Matt): It’s just a lot to process right now, so it is. I like girls, I’ve always liked girls, so this is… it’s very confusing…my head’s spinning in a million different directions trying to figure out what’s going on…
(Sean): And have you spoken to Jeremy about this?
Matt shakes his head..
(Matt): No, I haven’t seen him since they took me to the hospital after the PPV. I’ve written about a dozen texts and deleted them all…
(Sean): You know he’s not expecting anything from you, right? Like if you just stay friends, he’s not gonna treat you any differently and neither will the rest of us. Same goes if you decide, you know what? I do feel something, same thing applies. You’re still our friend, and we still love the shite out of you.
Matt inhales deeply through his nose, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at Sean’s last sentence.
(Sean): Just talk to him, mate. Get it out there, whatever it is you’re feeling or not feeling, talk to him.
(Matt): Easier said than done, so it is, fella. But I appreciate the words, so I do. It means a lot.
(Sean): Just remember what Captain Holt said in Brooklyn Nine-Nine…
(Matt): Hot damn? Bing pot?
The two laugh heartily as Sean tries to control himself..
(Sean): No…remember when Rosa came out as bisexual, he told her ”Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place”.
Matt just smiles and does his best to raise his arm without it hurting and pats Sean on the shoulder..
(Matt): Thanks mate, that means a lot…
There is a long silence, around ten seconds or so without any words until Matt breaks it..
(Matt): Anyway, what about Sensei?! How insane was his match with Nakamura?
Sean’s eyes widen.
(Sean): Mate, it was f*cking mind-blowing! Like we’ve seen him train and we’ve sparred with him but that was un-f*cking-believable!
(Matt): That exchange at the start, the Tiger Suplex from the top, Made in Japan! The Dawn of the Deathstar! I was fanboying like crazy.
(Sean): I know mate, me too! Can you believe one of us and Jeremy are gonna be facing him in his final match?! That’s going to be in-f*cking-sane!
(Matt): I know, lad. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the three of us having to do the triple threat, never mind one of us going to actually facing Sensei himself. Imagine what it’s going to be like when Hans faces him?
(Sean): Or Butch?! If that’s what Sensei can do against someone like Nakamura, can you imagine what those matches are gonna be like? It’s like Christmas wrestling!
(Matt): Do you think we’ll get the chance to face Hans? Jeremy’s match with him was awesome, just gutted those two idiots ruined it.
(Sean): Yeah, that sucked. Jeremy was doing awesome. He won’t be happy with that win at all. They should totally have a rematch and Butch ban those two from the arena.
(Matt): Something tells me they’d still find a way to make it about them. Pricks… anyway, do you wanna watch Sensei and Nakamura again?
Sean grins.
(Sean): Does the pope wear a funny hat?
Matt chuckles as he picks up the remote and rewinds the DVR back to the start of Art of War as the two turn their attention back to the TV screen, watching as they dissect, relive and pop at the match between their Sensei and Shinsuke Nakamura. The scene fades to black.
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