Work Text:
Wide Awake
A/N: A strange imagery, character study, venting ramble piece about Kenny Omega written to the Katy Perry song “Wide Awake.” A reflection on The Collector arc from the ramblings of a sleepy music major at 2 AM.
Indigo skies were dotted with stars in every shade of silver and gold, thick blankets of clouds providing no warmth as the cool night air rushes sharply against him as he falls. Thunder rumbles as the air becomes quite literally electric, the smell of ozone and fresh rain invading his senses. He couldn’t pin down any one thought, each raindrop falling reflecting a different version of him: the Cleaner, the Collector, the Best Bout Machine, the Golden Lover, the shy Canadian newly moved to Japan, the injured and exhausted former AEW World Champion, the AEW World Tag Champion with a shattering psyche, the man who enjoyed singing karaoke and talking about silly things with his two best friends, the man who loved spending weekends playing video games and cuddling with his pets, the man who let his insecurities drive him to obsessive, manipulative madness. His heart felt like it was going burst out of his chest from the whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to release or express, from the rush of images and memories that had foreshadowed this very moment.
Kenny Omega grasps desperately at the reflections of his past in the puzzle piece shaped raindrops as he plummets down, down, down…
Kota reaching out a hand to help him up after driving away Cody and Adam Page in their attempted chair attack. A new beginning.
Why hadn’t he taken it? Why had he told himself he was dreaming, staring at an impossible illusion that he’d been secretly crying out for five years, that would surely turn its back on him and walk away without a second glance? Why had he felt that he was undeserving of said illusion, much less the real thing? Why had he waited so long to be here, in Ibushi’s arms, letting his love for what he did and who he did it for lead the way instead of his worries and his self-perceived shortcomings? Why hadn’t he cherished that time more, instead of expecting them to last forever, eager for the next match and the next show instead of giving the private moments all of his attention? Why had he let his heart close back up, behind any and every wall he could build, every persona he could wear, every insult and well crafted argument, so much so that he didn’t know how to open up anymore?
Adam rushing towards him on unsteady, battle weary legs, an apology on his lips, after losing the tag titles. The turning point.
Why hadn’t he tried to understand Adam better? Instead of focusing on his bad habits and the mistakes he’d made, the dark headspace he was in, why hadn’t he asked what was wrong, if he could help, even if Adam couldn’t or wouldn’t open up all the way about everything? Why had he let his self doubt after coming to a new environment full of opportunities to grow and succeed, taint his mindset, his friendships? Why hadn’t he caught Adam and said a proper farewell, instead of letting him fall in more than just the physical sense? Why had he been so afraid of his friend’s success, just because his own wasn’t coming as easily as he’d expected?
The Bucks giving him conflicting and hurt looks: backstage, on the road, at ringside for his final title defense in his title reign. The consequences.
Why hadn’t he just been completely honest with them when the darkness got suffocating, when the voices in his head telling him he would never reach the heights he had in Japan, that he would never be good enough for the fans or himself, became so loud they were all he could hear? Why had he forced them into this mold that would forever be beneath him and not equal to him, behind him instead of beside him? Why was he so afraid of them leaving him if he lost, if he admitted to being broken and afraid, when they had always been by his side when he needed them, when they always forgave him for hurting them or pushing them away? Why had he created such a rift between what had been an unbreakable bond that he didn’t know if he could ever fix?
Himself, post surgeries, weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, soul troubled and eyes haunted by all of the decisions he’d made. The crossroads.
Where did he even begin to try and unpack, acknowledge, accept, regret, apologize, weep, shout and scream, wither in shame, sob in apology? Now that he didn’t have to be the Kenny Omega that people knew from Japan or AEW, didn’t have to be in the public eye, did he even know who he was? Underneath all of the layers of armor he’d put on in that time, did he remember what drove him, made him feel, what was at his core? Did the physical, mental, and emotional scars he’d accumulated over the years have lessons attached to each of them: reminders of what not to do, what to always do, who he hurt, who he helped, how life can be so dangerous and damaging, but just as much or even more joyful and rewarding? Or had he really gone through his entire career without growing, learning how to do and be better?
How would he have lived his life differently, knowing what he knew now?
Could he let go of his guilt for just a moment, instead of letting it consume him, so that he could take that first step, that leap of faith, to heal? Could he find the courage, the words, the sincerity in his heart, to apologize, to attempt to make amends, to all the people he’d wronged? Could he find the patience and strength to sit with those he’d been wronged by to find resolution and closure? Could he find the focus and determination to dig down deep and find out what he truly wanted now, after all that had transpired?
Part of him enjoys the suffering, in a twisted way. It was fun to air his grievances and take out his frustrations without worrying about the path of destruction he leaves in his wake. To say exactly what was on his mind without trying to be nice. To jeer and tease and rile someone up to distract from the negativity in his mind and heart. To get his hands dirty. To watch the people who criticize him and stand in his way understand just a fraction of his pain, his never ending struggle, to understand in the smallest of ways what it’s like to be Kenny Omega. He lives for the chaos and catharsis of those moments.
It was a shitty way of hiding all of the things he didn’t want the rest of the world to see, that he didn’t want himself to see, he would admit. He didn’t always like the kind of person he became when that part of him surfaced. He didn’t always make the wisest decisions. He didn’t always remember to forgive himself when he did something wrong, to give himself credit for what he achieved even when it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. He didn’t always remember that he didn’t have to torture himself for his mistakes and failures every sleeping and waking moment, even after they were long forgiven and behind him. That part of him clings to all those things with a vice-like grip because what other way was there to be?
Maybe this fall was the sign he never knew he needed, to put everything in perspective and make him ask himself what truly had to be done next.
Inky black feathers from his crumpled wing form the trail of his demise. The raindrops of memory hit his skin like icy daggers, blue-black strands of hair shrinking his vision until all he can see are the smallest pinpricks of light in an otherwise endless darkness. A shooting star races past, and in that instant he wishes for a fresh start, a chance to make the best of his newfound free time from injury, a chance to rediscover who he is and what’s next for him. To heal in any and every way that he needs to, to help those he cares about heal like that as well. He wanted to do things right this time.
His stormy ocean blue eyes slip shut as he just lets himself feel and take it all in: every thought, every emotion, every sensation, every memory, every question he asks himself, every possibility for the future.
Frigid, unforgiving concrete breaks his fall, rubble and dust flying up around him on impact as all of the air is driven from his lungs, his body jolting from the force of it, and something within him that he can’t quite pinpoint clicks with surprising clarity.
Kenny gasps awake in his bed, eyes blinking away the last traces of sleep and adjusting to the sunrise struggling against the dark cloud formations carrying an early morning shower. He shivers against the chilly breeze blowing in from the open window across the room, and yet there’s a warmth in him that he can’t quite describe that fills him with the urge to get to his feet and move, to start his day with an energy he hadn’t felt in far too long. “Hope” is a word that feels foreign to him, “purpose” even more so, and yet he feels like he’s overflowing with both in this moment. It’s those things that allow him to face the coming days with his head held a little higher, eyes looking forward instead of down.
His path had never been the easiest or most straightforward. He didn’t have all the answers, or even know all the questions that needed answers. But he knows how to put one foot in front of the other after taking that first step. He knows that those steps will lead him back to the people he holds most dear. And he knows that every step he’s ever taken, forwards and backwards, will be worth it in the end.