Work Text:
Love Is The Answer
A/N: The original idea of this had to do with realizing that you aren’t perfect, and that the journey to healing and accepting all parts of yourself is a long, painful, scary, yet worthwhile process. I just let my fingers type until they ran out of words. I don’t think it got across all that I was trying to get at, but it’s the first piece of writing I’ve been able to finish this month, so I’m not going to let it just sit in the Google Docs because of that. Title and inspiration from the breathtakingly beautiful Natalie Taylor song of the same name, with bits inspired by Eight by Sleeping At Last as well.
Kenny was falling.
Something, something broken and pleading, deep inside him, compelled him to climb to the top of the cage, the roar of the crowd drowned out by the impossibly loud thuh-thump! of his racing heart. He’d asked for this match because he had nothing else to lose. Not Don, his friends, his family, not any of his titles. He was completely and utterly alone because all of his choices, every little word and action towards the people he cared about that he’d used to keep them in line, to keep them behind him instead of beside him, beyond the walls of his heart instead of inside them, especially after he’d donned his battered and beaten up armor once again that fateful night against Mox, had finally come back to haunt him.
That had been over a year ago.
And so he was here, flat out refusing to fight for the title because this version of himself—this splintered amalgamation of every facade he’d ever tried to present, the person who couldn’t look in the mirror because every time he did he was torn between sobbing his eyes out or breaking the glass, the culmination of all of his flaws and insecurities and fears turned up to eleven, the terrified and remorseful man who couldn’t remember who he was—didn’t deserve it. Self loathing and guilt eating him up from the inside out was nothing new. The feeling of absolute abandonment was though, and that was something he had no idea how to navigate. It’s why he’d done nothing but spiral for the last nearly four hundred days, why he was trembling as he sat atop the steel cage, trying to slow down his mind enough to think clearly.
Kenny had squeezed his eyes shut as he felt tears run down his cheeks, small dark pink rivers criss-crossing along his flushed skin through the sea of blood on his face. Instead of hitting the One-Winged Angel, like he would have if he wasn’t currently drowning in self doubt and panic, he’d put as much space between himself and everyone’s favorite champion as possible. Adam Page was near unconscious, bruised body splayed out on the ring canvas some twenty odd feet below, bright blue eyes hazy and unfocused as they stared at the arena lights. And yet Kenny still couldn’t move then, couldn’t decide what to do. He had shaken, from adrenaline, fear, and the insane desire to just… fall. A broken body would match a broken heart, mind, and soul perfectly.
And yet…
There had been a small light in all the darkness threatening to swallow him whole, a golden light illuminating the faintest silhouette of a figure whose hands had reached out for him, uttering an achingly familiar name.
Kenny-tan.
He’d opened his eyes with a gasp, turned his back to Adam and looked up, eyes gazing through the roof of the arena, through the night sky, through any imaginable plane of existence until they met a pair of warm and loving brown eyes that he’d know from anywhere, halfway across the world. Kenny had stood, taking a deep breath as he found his balance, almost deathly still as time seemed to stop, just for a moment. And in that moment he’d felt all of the pain of the last year, all the uncertainty, regret, self disgust, anger, and despair overwhelm him before it all disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced with the one emotion that never failed to pull him back from the point of no return.
Love.
Love despite all of his flaws and mistakes. Love despite how hard he pushed people away or to the side. Love despite all of his brokenness driving him to guard his heart from even himself. Love for every part of him, perfectly imperfect, hurting and healing, shattered and whole.
Kenny had felt his last bit of strength flow to his legs, muscles like tightly compressed springs ready to launch him towards the end of the match, towards redemption. Towards rebirth. He remembered closing his eyes, feeling an echo of his true self in its entirety for the first time in far too long, and his body gracefully twisting through the air as he leapt off the cage.
Kenny was falling, but this time he didn’t meet a soul crushing demise at the bottom of an abyss carved out from his lies and poor decisions. His body collided with Adam’s, jolting the breath out of both of them upon impact. Kenny’s vision swam, spots dancing across the blood and sweat stained ring as he laid across his former tag partner, former friend, former family member, chest on fire, muscles and bones screaming at him almost as loud as the crowd was. He registered a referee’s hand hitting the mat. Once, twice, and then a third time. The bell rang. Battle Cry rang out from the arena speakers as every fan shot to their feet in disbelief.
There was no triumphant smirk, no Elite or Bullet Club at his side congratulating him, no celebration for winning a title. There was just a broken man finally, finally on his way to healing and remembering that he was more than just his flaws and mistakes, struggling to take a full breath as he felt his hand being raised in victory. He’d said his apology to Adam months ago, when they were on less than agreeable terms while Kenny was on his road to repairing all the bridges he’d burned. And yet he found himself apologizing again, and again, and again, shifting just enough to say the words in Adam’s ear so that only he could hear him. It’s okay, he got in response. Everything’s going to be okay. Kenny smiled a relieved and genuine smile, feeling his other half mirror it thousands of miles away.
And he knew that it would be.