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When it's over, when it's been hours since their final match, when the dust has settled — Bianca still can't think of anything else.
Her entire body buzzed with energy. It had been since the moment she had successfully defended her title, and was continuing to send shocks through her limbs throughout the mess that followed.
Her hotel room was bleak and almost daunting in comparison to the enormous crowd that had surrounded her a mere two hours earlier. She wanted to stay, wanted to cheer on her friends who would be wrestling — wanted to know who to watch and be wary of — but her mind couldn't stop spinning in circles, enough to make her dizzy, her entire body brimming with an energy she should have dispelled during the match but only seemed to rise to insurmountable amounts in the aftermath.
Becky.
Bianca shut her hotel door behind her, sliding down against the wall. She was still in her tasseled gear, covered in sweat and aching from the match, but a rising migraine ached more from everything that happened.
Bayley, Kai, Io.
Bianca had never been a slow worker — she didn't think as fast on her feet as some of her opponents do, but she was the best, had the championship to prove it, and so she always kept up. But still, seeing Bayley come out as she did had thrown her off balance, and Kai and Io appearing, implying some sort of ruthless stable that Bianca couldn't even fathom taking on alone had a grim realization that she, the bravest, rarely felt.
Her phone buzzed. She slid it out of her pocket.
LIV
Where are you??? Crazy shit just went down, I NEED YOU
Bianca pressed exhausted hands to her eyes. Liv. Liv, who Bianca had made a promise to herself to stick around to support her after what was bound to be a brutal match. Another damn feeling of being inadequate rose in her, and as she gripped her belt closer to her, she knew exactly the reason why.
“Becky,” Bianca whispered to the empty room.
The name had haunted her thoughts enough over the last year that every time she spoke it aloud, it was like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Across their brutal and upset matches since the last SummerSlam, never had Bianca expected what happened.
The moment of suspended disbelief that was held in the air between them, across the crowd — the warring feelings of mistrust and surprise and frustration and damning hope.
Becky's big brown eyes stared at her across that spare foot between them.
Bianca stared at her, trying to parse out the truth.
Useless.
After a long moment, she knew she would reach out. It was Becky Lynch, the Becky Lynch, and Bianca had never once faced her and not been both anxious and excited, nervous and exhilarated, like a kid in front of their crush. Not even after Becky had changed, switched into someone more spiteful, had Bianca been able to deny the admiration she held for the veteran.
So she reached out.
And Becky held her hand.
Bianca's entire body filled with warmth, relief and satisfaction and a fluster in one, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that flooded her when suddenly she was pulled in, into Becky's embrace, and—
Bianca shut her eyes, letting her head fall back to rest against the door.
She couldn't act like the feeling was new, what she felt as she buried her head into Becky's neck, felt that fiery hair brush her cheek. The admiration she had for The Man preceded any feud between the two of them, and, to her growing dread, the events following SummerSlam '21 had not reversed that esteem. It was the opposite. She was suddenly consumed by Becky, seeing her face and hearing her name everywhere around her, from the press to the fans to her dreams. It was all Becky, and, though she'd never admit it to the cameras, each match they had felt like more and more of an assault to her resolution. They were weakening her to Becky, making her doubt herself and second-question everything she felt when she looked at the other woman.
Rather than the enemy that Becky was, Bianca could only see someone she wanted to get to know, to learn, to connect with. The ferocity and strength that were ingrained in the core of Becky Lynch were addictive to someone like Bianca, who prioritized nothing more than that type of resilience and determination. She wanted more and more of Becky, even though the Raw Women's Championship was what she had fought so hard for.
Becky's presence knotted up everything Bianca had ever felt that she wanted.
And in the moment that Becky had jumped into the ring, stood next to her against the other three, Bianca was on a teetering high on which she was frighteningly balanced. Suspended only by her win and the lingering feeling of Becky's embrace.
It'd been so long since they hadn't looked at one another as enemies, rivals, stuck in a bitter feud that was taking the air and power out of her every time they were in the ring together.
Bianca could have never prepared for what it felt like to stand next to Becky Lynch as an ally— as maybe a friend.
As someone who Bianca could stand next to in the future.
And Bianca knew something that she'd been burying since WrestleMania — something that had started from the last SummerSlam and had been solidified that night, a year later.
Bianca Belair not only respected Becky Lynch, but she was enraptured by her.
The admission floated around her head for a long while. Long enough that, eventually, she began to settle down. Bianca always worked better with a goal in mind — when she knew what to focus on — and her body reacted in kind.
She swallowed dryly, before pressing off the ground. She would shower, change her clothes, then she would call Liv and have her meet her in her hotel room so they could properly freak out about everything together. If her insides still felt like they were being chopped up, thrown into a blender because of her anxiety about the future, well. Liv would understand that, too.
Bianca exhaled but didn't make it one step deeper into the room when there was a knock at the door.
She paused, turning back around to face the closed door. Setting her belt down on the door-side table, she stepped forward to look through the peephole.
She inhaled sharply.
Before her mind even registered everything, her hand was moving, turning the knob, the door opening.
“Bianca.”
Wide, brown eyes caught onto Bianca's own, and Bianca's lips parted but Becky was already stumbling forward, into Bianca's arms, and Bianca just clutched Becky closer, deeper, and inhaled her and—
And she sensed the future, and her anxiety bled away at the possibilities within it.