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You need to slow down, amigo.
“Pfft. And he needs to learn to speed up.” Nathan mumbled to himself, tying the laces on his boot. His match against Oba Femi for the North American title was in a few minutes, and he was feeling nothing less than absolutely pumped up–even after his not so savory run in with his partner, Axiom.
Though he couldn’t see the disappointed look on his tag partner’s face, he knew it was there. He knew it was taking every bit of power in Axiom’s body not to scream at him. Not to shake some “sense” into Nathan.
It made Nathan laugh, honestly. Axiom swore up and down he knew more about Nathan’s wellbeing than Nathan himself. On one hand, it was sweet. On the other, it was annoying, because he knew just how much he could take, and him challenging for every title that he possibly could was perfectly okay! Axiom needed to relax.
A sharp knock at the locker room door tore Nathan away from his thoughts, and he rose from the bench to open it. Dressed in the same pale pink top and khaki bottoms that he was wearing earlier, paired with a hot pink mask, stood Axiom, his arms crossed, NXT tag team championship wrapped around his waist.
“Your match is next. Good luck out there.” His voice was low, and though Nathan couldn’t see, he was staring at the ground.
“Thank you, Amigo! I’m going to bring us another title!” Nathan’s smile was big–brighter than Axiom had ever seen him smile before–but…
“Didn’t you say that the last two times? Both for the Speed Title and the Heritage Cup?” Nathan’s smile dropped.
“Well, yeah. But this time is going to be different!” Nathan clapped Axiom on the shoulder, brushing past him into the hallway. “Lighten up, Ax. Have some faith in me!”
Axiom sighed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He gestured into the locker room, where Nathan’s tag title sat on the bench. Something nagged at the bottom of Axiom’s stomach, but he pushed it down and opened the locker room door wider so that Nathan could see the title.
“My entrance is about to start-” He faltered, for a split second, glancing between the title and the long hallway. If he grabbed the title, he’d miss his cue. If he didn’t, he knew for a fact it would be Axiom’s last straw. He sighed, rushing to scoop the title up in his arms. He fumbled with the clasps as he wrapped it around his waist, and then he took Axiom’s wrist in his hand. “Now come on, Ax. I have another title to win.”
Nathan’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Axiom couldn’t help but to chuckle behind his mask as Nathan dragged him down the hallway and into gorilla.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
You need to slow down, amigo.
Nathan was never one to slow down, and he made sure Oba Femi was aware of that as soon as the bell rang, hitting him with a surprise sling blade that actually managed to take the big man off his feet. Nathan knew his strengths, and his pace was one of them–something that Oba Femi wouldn’t be able to match. Oba had impressive reflexes, though, something Nathan had overlooked when studying his matches in preparation, so when he climbed to the top turnbuckle to do a flip, he was shocked when Oba snatched him out of the air faster than he could blink.
A quick slam on the mat, and pain shot up Nathan’s back. Nothing he couldn’t handle, though, and as Oba turned to taunt, Nathan kipped-up, sprinting and rebounding off the ropes and delivering a smooth dropkick to the bigger man's back–and the match continued much like this, a constant back and forth between speed and strength.
As the match drew to its climax, Nathan perched on the top rope, ready to do his finishing corkscrew splash, he took a breath. If he hit this, he would prove Axiom wrong. He didn’t need to slow down. He didn’t need to “take a breather”. He could focus on more than just the tag titles.
Axiom was about to see.
Nathan took one last deep breath, straightened, and launched himself off the ropes. His corkscrew twist in the air was effortless, and he felt the rush as the air tore through his hair.
But what he didn’t realize was that Oba was just an inch–just a hair–too far from where he needed to be. And maybe it was the adrenaline that carried him those extra few seconds as he landed on his feet–maybe it was the thought that he had saved himself from serious injury that kept him going.
Nathan took two steps before the pain set in. His leg screamed from under him, and he collapsed to the mat in agony, clutching his knee. The rest was nothing Nathan could–or rather, wanted to–remember. The ref calling the match off–the sound of the bell ringing, Mike Rome announcing Oba’s retention due to referee discretion. Axiom by his side, a slew of curses in Spanish leaving his mouth. Even Oba, checking on him for a split second, before clutching his title and leaving the ring.
Nathan couldn’t feel his knee. That’s what he knew. He couldn’t feel his fucking knee. They wheeled out a stretcher–why would they wheel out a stretcher? His mind was racing, screaming. He didn’t need a stretcher. He couldn’t feel his knee, but god damn it, he was going to walk out of there. He pushed Axiom away from him, to the shock of everyone–Axiom himself included–and struggled to get to his feet.
He was walking out of here. He wasn’t– He didn’t need–
As soon as he placed his left foot on the mat, pain shot up his leg again, and back down he went. Tears filled his eyes, his brain screaming at him.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Nathan, get on the stretcher. Please.” Axiom seemed to be pleading with him. Why was he pleading? Why did he care?
“I don’t need a stretcher! I can- I can walk! I can fucking walk.” He tried to ignore the tears in his eyes as he shouted as the one person who genuinely cared–the one person who had been there for him through it all. Why was he so adamant on not accepting his help? His advice?
“Nathan, you’re being–” Axiom sighed, placing a gentle hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Ugh, don’t- don’t move.”
“What are you doing?” Nathan asked, wincing as Axiom put his arm underneath Nathan's legs, his other arm around his back–picking him up bridal style.
“Carrying you out of here, since you want to be stubborn.” He bent under the ropes, maneuvering Nathan through them. He refused to drop him. Refused to let him go for even a second.
Axiom made his way up the ramp, referee’s surrounding him “just in case”, and Nathan. He wasn’t even sure how he felt. How he was supposed to feel. He couldn’t fathom anyone caring about him this much, and especially considering how he’d been treating Axiom recently… His heart hurt.
When they passed the curtain into gorilla, Nathan did his best to not look at anyone. There were a few superstars surrounding the entrance, each staring at him with varying levels of concern. Worry. Pity.
It made Nathan feel gross, though he wasn’t sure why.
The rest of the walk to the trainers room was silent, save for the sounds of Axiom’s labored breathing.
He opened the door with his hip, and the sterile smell of the miniature, travel sized doctors office used to treat injuries–if they should happen–hit Nathan’s nose like a truck. Something about it panicked him, terrified him.
His insides churned.
“Ax… Ax, put me down.” He put an arm up, tapping Axiom’s chest repeatedly with his palm. “Please. I’m going to puke. Please-”
Axiom must’ve–had to have–heard the alarm in his voice. With a single swift movement, Nathan was placed onto the exam table, the trashcan shoved underneath him. Nathan gripped the edges of the can and retched, tears stinging his eyes, his throat burning. Axiom said nothing, holding the younger’s hair behind his head with one hand, rubbing circles on his back with the other.
“Let it out. It’s okay.” Axiom said, his voice quiet. Nathan lowered the trash can, and Axiom moved to take it from him, setting it back on the floor. He would make sure to mention it to the janitors later. He didn’t just want to leave it there to surprise them.
“I’m sorry.”
It was Axiom’s turn to falter before he turned around.
Nathan had every reason to be sorry–given how he had been brushing off Axiom, the tag titles, his duties the last few weeks? How he shoved Axiom in the ring when he wanted to be stubborn and walk out on his own? How his tweets got progressively more passive-aggressive, snapping at fans who even dared to ask about Axiom?
He had every single reason in the world to be sorry–yet… Axiom didn’t want to hear an apology right now.
He cupped Nathan’s face with his hand, kneeling before him.
“Don’t be sorry, my friend.” He swiped a tear away from Nathan’s eye with his thumb. “Please.”
The last thing Axiom wanted was an “I told you so" moment. Not when Nathan was clearly so defeated. It was obvious Axiom had been right the entire time–he didn’t feel the need to rub it in.
“No, I have to be. I am. I- I literally pushed you!” Nathan ran a hand through his hair, a few more tears finding their way down his face. “I pushed you away when I needed you. That’s all I’ve been doing. I keep pushing you away, when I really, really fucking need you. And I’m sorry, Ax. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Nathan…” Axiom straightened himself and sat on the exam table, wrapping his arm around the other’s shoulders, pulling him close. “It’s alright. I promise–I understand, even.”
“I’m going to lose who knows how many months of my career because I wouldn’t listen. It isn’t alright.”
“It is.” Axiom smiled beneath his mask, though Nathan–obviously–couldn’t see. “There’s this little thing I like to call ‘living and learning’-”
“Why don’t you hate me?” Nathan interjected, his voice barely above a whisper. The question was packed with fear–like he didn’t want to hear the answer. Because what if he was wrong–what if Axiom did hate him? What if this was it for them? It would be Nathan’s fault entirely, he knew that. And he was terrified to have to face the idea of his best friend leaving him. He was terrified that, if he made the wrong move here and now, he would be alone.
“Why- What?” His eyebrows shot up beneath the mask. “I could never hate you, Nathan. You made some shitty decisions–but you lived through them and now you’re learning.”
He wrapped a piece of Nathan’s hair around his finger and let it twirl off on its own.
“I ignored everything you told me. I let comparisons to my mentor get to my head on every occasion–I strived to be like him in the shortest amount of time possible and I pushed you away in the process.” Nathan was crying now–he couldn’t help it. Everything he had been building up for months was pouring out of him like a waterfall, and he couldn’t stop it. “I felt nothing but pressure since the day I debuted, the day everyone found out I was Seth’s protégé. I didn’t want to let Seth down. I didn’t want to ruin his legacy–everything he worked so hard to build. He took me under his wing, he trained me, he’s been coaching me from the sidelines, and all I want is to be like him, and look what it’s gotten me. I nearly destroyed our friendship over this. Why don’t you hate me?”
The last few words echoed in the room, a sob overtaking Nathan. Axiom… almost didn’t know how to respond. He knew… he knew Nathan had been feeling pressure since his debut on NXT–long before the two had even thought of becoming a tag team. He knew that Nathan had always wanted to be the next Seth Rollins, and he had all of the right assets to do so–he just wanted to do everything Seth had done entirely too fast. Axiom took a breath, and gently turned Nathan’s head toward him.
“I need you to listen to me, Nathan. I will never, ever hate you. I know the pressure you’re feeling. I understand where you’re coming from. But your issue is that you refuse to slow down. That is why you’re here right now. That’s why you’re in this situation. But I will never hate you for that.” He sighed. “I genuinely love you, Nathan, and you being a stubborn asshole will not change that, I assure you.”
Axiom lifted the bottom of his mask, just enough to show his lips, and planted a kiss on Nathan’s forehead.
“I’m going to go find a trainer to look at your knee. Just- stay there.”
And with that, he left a red-faced Nathan Frazer to nothing but his thoughts–and his jumbled mess of feelings.