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He was a failure. He had tried so hard, and he had won, really, he had! He had won, and then that meanie Seth came out of nowhere, suddenly very not injured, and stole the title right out from under him. It's not right. He's sitting in a locker room, he thinks it's his, staring at the wall and picking at his nails. It was all too much, the shouting of the crowd and Seth's face making him feel like he was lost at sea, stuck somewhere with no escape. He had done so good. He had tried his hardest like he said he was going to, like he had promised Drew and Aj he would before they sent him off with a kiss on either cheek, soft smiles on their faces. They had believed in him, and he had ruined it all. Some voice deep in his brain is telling him that he's wrong, that they'll never be disappointed in him no matter what, but he just can't shake that feeling. He wants his mama and his dada but he's too scared to get up, to face the outside world. To possibly run into Seth-
Sighing, he grabs a hoodie out of his bag and pulls it over his head, temporarily protected from the outside world. Nothing can get him now, with the hood pulled down over his eyes, and he groans, trying to un-tense his shoulders as much as he can, because the muscles there are starting to twinge. He jolts, hissing at the pain that spreads through his body, scared by a sudden noise that turns out to be his phone ringing. He pulls it out of his bag, barely able to see the phone screen through his tears. When did he start crying? He sniffles, reaching up to wipe the tears away from his face. His phone has stopped ringing when he glances back at it, the screen now dark and showing his reflection. He looks just like the failure he feels he is, his face crestfallen, staring back at him through the screen. He doesn't check who called him, instead choosing to shove his phone back into his bag with a frown.
That familiar fuzzy feeling is creeping its way into Punk's head, but it feels different this time. More intense, like he's smaller than usual. Usually he would like that feeling, but he doesn't right now. He feels too alone. He can still feel the weight of the belt in his hands, the coolness of it pressed against his chest as he tried his hardest not to sob in joy. He had tried his hardest, he had been so good-
And it wasn't enough.
Maybe it never would be.
Maybe this is payback, some form of Karma. It makes sense if it is. For what he did to Drew all that time ago. It feels like a lifetime, honestly. The same Drew that he took the title from feels so different from the Drew that tucked him into bed the other night, who sat next to Punk and read him a bedtime story while running his fingers through Punk's hair. He wonders if this is how Drew felt. If he felt this alone, this defeated. That just makes him feel worse, the growing pit in his stomach twisting. He's just about to lean forward and let himself fall to the floor, maybe close his eyes for a bit, when knocking echoes through the room. He groans, clenching his hands against his chest. If he ignores it, it'll go away.
“Punk, I know you're in there.”
Or maybe not. He knows the voice, he thinks he'd be able to recognize that Scottish accent even with amnesia. It's one of the only things he wants to hear right now, but also the last thing he wants to deal with. He doesn't want to have to face their disappointment, their crushed hope.
“I heard your phone ringing. Punk, baby, please.”
He doesn't move. He doesn't want to, even though he desperately wants to curl up in Drew's lap and just sob, but he can't bring himself to. He's still slightly leaned over, teetering on the edge of the bench, when the door suddenly flies open with a bang. The loud noise makes Punk gasp, throwing his hands up to cover his ears, scrunching his eyes closed. It's almost too quiet now, and his head starts to spin before he feels large arms wrap around his wrists, gently holding him. It takes some effort to open his eyes, he's terrified of what he's going to find there. Drew's never yelled at him before, never even really raised his voice, but maybe this would be different.
“Oh, baby. My boy, what did he do to you?” Drew's frowning, concern covering his face. He brings a hand up to gently rub his thumb under Punk's eye, wiping away a few of the tears that had fallen.
Punk can't think of anything to say, anything to make this all better, except for an apology. “ ‘M so sorry-”
His breath hitches at the end and he fully leans forward against Drew, thunking his head against the Scotsman's chest. He grabs onto the fabric of Drew's shirt, shaking his head. “So sorry, so so sorry, sorry-”
“No no no, you have nothing to be sorry for-” Drew sighs, frown deepening when Punk starts to shake his head. “I mean it. You did so good out there, you made us all so proud.”
“But I lost it-”
“But that wasn't your fault, you couldn't have possibly known he wasn't hurt.”
“I tried, I p'omise-”
“I know, oh baby I know.” Drew's voice is a whisper, only just reaching Punk's ears. “I know, you tried so hard, we're so proud of you.”
Punk feels like he can't breathe. He's silent for a moment, shoulders frozen, before he un-tenses with a sob, burying his face further into Drew's chest, probably ruining the Scot's shirt with his tears. Drew brings his other hand around to rub circles into Punk's back, exaggerating his breathing to calm Punk down. Eventually, Punk's full body shudders calm down, but he's still scrunching his eyes shut, buried into Drew as much as he can.
“I wanna-” He gasps in a breath, fist tightening around the taller man's shirt. “Dada, I wanna go home.”
He had only just finished his sentence by the time Drew is wrapping his arms around Punk's waist, hoisting him up with a grunt, grabbing Punk's bag with the edge of his fingers, somehow. Punk lets out a rather embarrassing squeak at the sudden movement, and he shoves his face into the crook of Drew's neck, determined to hide from the world. He doesn't want to have to see everyone's faces as the scot carries him out of the arena, he's dealt with enough staring tonight. He's dealt with enough staring for a lifetime.
They make it to the car and Punk separates from Drew with a whine, leaning his head back against the seat with a thunk. He's so exhausted, he can barely keep his head upright, fumbling blindly with the seatbelt before Drew takes the buckle out of his hands, and fastens him in. He doesn't remember much of the drive home, just that he held onto Drew with one hand, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt where the belt would have sat- should have sat. If he had just done better.
He doesn't want to get out of the car. He can hear the other man's accented voice, but the words don't make sense in his brain. They're sitting in the driveway, but he doesn't want to get out of the car. He doesn't want to face Aj. He doesn't want to see her pity, he knows he could have done better, he had tried so hard but it was all so much-
“Punk!” Drew's face is in front of his now, one hand on his face, the other gently unclenching Punk's fingers from his shirt. “Come on, we're home.”
He helps Punk get out of the seat -when did he get unbuckled?- lightly pulling him out of the car, when all of a sudden Punk freezes, digging his feet into the ground as best as he can. “Punk, baby. Come on. Don't you wanna see Mama?”
He does, but he can't, that's the thing. He wants to curl up between them and have them protect him from the rest of the world, from Seth, but it's already bad enough Drew's seen him like this. He's supposed to be strong. He shakes his head, trying to lean back and out of Drew's hand, failing. “No. No, don’ wanna.”
Next to him, Drew sighs. “We have to go inside at some point. Mama and Larry are waiting for us.”
Oh god, is Larry disappointed in him? Can a dog even tell that he's done bad? Now he's convinced he's going to open the door and Larry is going to bark disappointedly at him.
“You'll get sick if you stay out in the cold like this. We have to go inside.” He sounds….not frustrated, but something like that. More concerned, than anything, but Punk can tell that Drew is losing his patience, his jaw clenching as he stares at Punk.
He goes to shake his head again, when all of the sudden Drew is scooping him up in his arms again, carrying him towards the house and Punk screeches. “Put me down! Don’ wanna!”
He's always known that the Scot was strong enough to carry him around, having had it happen many times in the ring, and outside the ring just as often; but he's still surprised at how easily Drew carries him up the driveway and through the front door, even with Punk wriggling around in his arms. He spots Aj first, standing in the kitchen holding a cup of juice, a very concerned look on her face.
“What is-”
“Put me down!”
Drew sets him down on the counter with a huff, placing their bags down on the floor by the doorway.
“What's wrong baby?” Aj's voice is soft, sweet, too sweet-
It's gentle, and all he wants to do is lean forward and bury his face into her neck, let her protect him from his own brain. She places a hand on the side of his face and he looks away, frowning. She's too gentle. He doesn't want to be the reason she's upset.
“He thinks what happened tonight is his fault.” Drew answers for him, crossing his arms where he stands. “Our boy is blaming himself for something out of his control.”
Aj frowns, and Punk wants to hop off the counter and bolt, burying himself under a pile of blankets and never come out. He's why she's frowning, he's the reason she's upset-
“Punk.” Even the way she says his name makes his heart squeeze. “Sweetheart, you did the best you could out there. You won!”
“Bu’ I didn’-” He shakes his head, still not able to look at her. “I didn’ get to keep it. Didn’ make you p'oud.”
“You make us proud every single day. Belt or not, we couldn't be prouder of what you've accomplished.”
“She's right, Punk.” They're both in front of him now, and he can't look anywhere but at them, so instead he focuses on the floor, glaring at it. “We don't care that you don't have the belt, you're the winner to us. Not that stupid motherfu-”
He's cut off by Aj elbowing him in the gut, glaring up at him. “I agree babe, but language around little ears, please.”
Aj's hand tilts his face up slowly, until he's looking at both of them, a stinging in the corner of his eyes. He feels-
He still feels like a disappointment, but a little bit less.
“You're CM Punk! You're our winner,” her other hand comes up to lightly poke him in the chest. “But most importantly, you're our boy. It doesn't matter what happened out there.”
“And it doesn't matter what happened years ago.”
He looks over towards Drew, confused for a moment before he realizes what the other man is talking about. He shakes his head to disagree, but Drew stops him. “Things happen, and I don't blame you for them. I forgave you the moment it happened.”
He can't stop it now, the tears falling down his face again, and he closes his eyes, leaning forward blindly gently sliding off of the counter to stand. His face lands on Drew's chest and he reaches out until he's holding one of Aj's hands, pulling her closer to them. He feels a sudden wetness on his ankle and opens one eye to look down, seeing Larry gently licking his ankle, and he lets out a wet laugh, sniffling.
“You don't need a title to prove your worth, but I'm sorry it was taken from you baby.” Aj says, low in his ear, as she brushes his hair back, gently scratching at his scalp. “You didn't deserve that.”
“And I will kill that man for even coming near you, you hear me?”
“Drew!”
“What? I didn't even cuss?”
Punk giggles again, nuzzling his head up into the crook of Drew's neck, smiling lightly. “M love you guys.”
They both speak at the same time, a shared “I love you”, when Larry gently nibbles at his ankle.
“Love you too, Lawy.”
Aj chuckles and he looks up at her, still lightly crying, but with the beginnings of a smile showing on his face.
“Wanna go cuddle on the couch?”
Punk nods, swaying slightly against Drew's body. “P'ease mama?”
She takes his hand and starts towards the living room, Drew following them while holding onto Punk's other hand. “The champion of the night gets to pick the movie we watch!”
“I'm not watching another hallmark movie.”
“I wasn't talking to you, Drew!”
“Well I won a match too, maybe I should get a say!”
Larry yips as if in agreement, settling down in Punk's lap the moment he sits down. Punk smiles, shaking his head. “We aaaaaaall know you love da womance mo'ies, Dada. Don’ deny it.”
Drew sticks his tongue out at him, plopping down next to him, letting Aj sit on the other side. “Whatever. Just pick a movie you little punk.”
Drew presses a soft kiss to the side of Punk's head, pulling his head down to lay on his shoulder, while Aj leans onto Punk's side, squishing him comfortably between the two. He still feels bad, still feels upset, like he's a moment away from crying, but he can handle it better now. He was worried about disappointing them, not wanting them to see him differently because he-
He didn't fail, did he? Sure, he didn't keep the belt, but he won. He tried his best. And that meanie Seth doesn't matter here, he's not the winner in this house, not when he's between his favorite people and dog, flicking through his netflix account. He may have the belt, but he doesn't have his mama and dada, doesn't have their love. And that's better than the belt, he thinks. Sure, it would have been nice to have, to get to hold for longer than he did, but he can't change that. Instead he settles back further into the couch, clicking on a movie they've seen before that makes Drew groan, Aj and Punk laughing at him. He's the winner in their eyes, and that's all he needs to be. Being their boy is enough.