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Summary
My comfort Fic -
[Post-SummerSlam 2025] Punk is drowning in his sorrows alone in a deserted catering, and it's past midnight. Drew finds him and takes him back to his hotel room, and stays. His first step to healing, and Drew is there for it. In fact, Drew is the one that holds his hand when he takes this first step. And maybe there is hope after all.
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“Going to tell me it’s going to be fine? That it gets better with time?”
“No.” Drew's voice is quiet. “No, I won’t tell you that.”
And Punk wants to be angry, to lash out. Very nearly turning on his stool saying, 'You don’t know. You can’t possibly know how this feels. How everything is hollow and dark and I can't stand it. I want it to stop.'
And then he remembers. Drew knows better than anyone else, doesn’t he? He's been through it. And Punk hates it. Hates that he knows how he feels. Hates that he can relate. Hates that they have another thing in common.