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Hangman had really been hoping to be able to leave soon. There was a bone-deep ache and exhaustion after his match with MJF. His hands shook with the adrenaline crash. Having finished his chat with Mark, he was all but ready to go when he saw The Opps trailing back to their dressing rooms, morose and dejected. They hadn’t even been booked for anything this late in the show.
As soon as Hobbs explained what had happened, Hangman stormed off, determined to find Moxley and missing the half-hearted pleas to stop from the three of them. His hands stilled as they balled into fists. He charged through backstage corridors and threw doors open, hoping to find the Death Riders.
He arrived at the locker room and shouldered the door open in his rage. Scanning it, he found no Death Riders, no Young Bucks, no Bullet Club. Just Kenny Omega, standing silently with his back to the door in front of Will’s locker.
Kenny didn’t move, didn’t flinch, as the door opened and Hangman just froze, any intentions he had disappearing. Words died on the tip of his tongue. They both stood there for a moment as Kenny packed up Will’s belongings. A lump settled in Hangman’s throat.
“Where were you?” Kenny asked, breaking the silence as his back stayed turned.
“Medical wanted to check me over. Then, Tony wanted to talk over some logistics and I had to find Mark and …” His ramble trailed off. “It doesn’t matter. I should have been there.”
“Yeah,” Kenny said quietly, his voice hoarse.
“Is he going to be OK?”
Kenny laughed coldly. He shut the locker with a snap and turned around, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Bloodshot teary eyes met Hangman’s own. “Well, given the state of his neck going into the match?” Kenny shrugged. “That could be his career gone.”
“Fuck,” Hangman said, exhaling.
Everyone knew the few weeks he’d spent away following All In had been tough for Will’s mental health. He’d go from bugging his friends on the roster constantly with texts and memes and, oh my God, the Instagram reels one minute to radio silence for days, an ocean away, the next. Prince Nana had approached Hangman on more than one occasion to ask if he’d heard from Will. The calls he’d missed while he got involved with Briscoe and MJF suddenly weighed heavy on him. It was clear to them all that Will needed this sport. If he couldn’t wrestle? Shit.
Kenny pushed himself off the locker and walked up to Hangman, looking him dead in the eye. “So you just fucked off to get involved in MJF’s shit?” he spat. “Got the gold off Moxley and what? Just weren’t interested in stopping them any more?”
Hangman felt his temper flare. He bridged the gap and lent into Kenny’s space. “And you fucked off to sort things with Okada. Hell, where were you when Moxley won the belt to begin with?”
Kenny took a step back, almost like he’d been hit, the hurt showing on his face. Hangman’s stomach turned with guilt. But after a second, he realised something.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I -”
“Yes, you fucking did,” Kenny hissed, turning to grab the bag of stuff on the bench. Will’s bag.
“Kenny, stop.” The other man made to move past him but Hangman grabbed his wrist. Instead of fighting, like he’d feared, Kenny stilled. “I get you’re mad at me. Fuck, I’m mad at me. I should have been there, you’re right.” He let go. “But, I don’t know if it’s me you’re actually upset with.”
“What?” Kenny stayed where he was, to the relief of Hangman.
“You were there. And it still happened. They kept beating him and what did you do? What could you do?”
Kenny took a shaky breath and Hangman knew he was right. The older man turned and sat on the bench. “I tried.”
Almost on instinct, Hangman approached the bench and sat beside him. “I know,” he said softly. “But the Kenny of 10 years ago could have gotten over the top of the cage.”
Kenny chuckled slightly. “The Kenny of 2 years ago probably could have.” He tilted his head back against the locker and closed his eyes. “But I couldn’t. All I could do was pull at the door.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Ibushi tried punching it so…” A small, fond smile ghosted across Kenny’s face.
Hangman bumped his shoulder into Kenny gently. “Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s kind of a dumbass.”
Kenny chuckled again. “Yeah.” He pulled his knees up to his chest. “I’ve always had a type,” he added, not looking at Hangman, missing how the other man blushed slightly. “He’s gone to the hospital with Will and Tanahashi. I’m dropping this stuff off later.” He gestured to Will’s bag, discarded at their feet.
“How come you’re not there?”
Kenny shrugged. “Ibushi’s worried about me. Wanted me to get checked over by medical instead.”
“And did you?”
“I’m fine.”
Hangman rolled his eyes. “Not what I asked. Should I be worried?” ‘Is it even my place to be worried any more?’ he thought to himself.
Kenny just shook his head and rested his head on his knees. “They got their hands full with Darby.”
“Kenny -”
“I’m really not that bad.”
Hangman knew better than to push. He knew that, between Ibushi and Tanahashi, Kenny would get that later. “Do you want to talk about the match? I know it was a lot going in. With, you know, Gabe and then Matt and Nick and… yeah.”
“It was just another match, Hangman. We’ve both done plenty.” Hangman nodded and stayed quiet, watching closely as Kenny’s breathing became shaky. He started reaching a hand out, froze as he realised what he was doing and then continued, placing it on Kenny’s upper back and slowly rubbing up and down.
Upon contact, he felt Kenny flinch before noticeably relaxing, leaning back slightly into the contact. “It’s hard being in the ring with Matt and Nick. Always is after everything.”
Hangman hummed in acknowledgement.
“And, when everything happened to Will, it was after the match. We’d won, the bell had sounded. He was already going to take time off, Hangman. And then, Moxley broke his neck. The Bucks were just watching. Didn’t leave. Didn’t help. Just watching and I don’t know how to feel about it. Having them stand by while Moxley hurt someone I care about? I just…” He swiped at his eyes. “Fuck, it was easier when I hated Ospreay.”
“I care about the kid too,” Hangman admits, getting a laugh from Kenny.
“Yeah, he’s annoying like that.”
“It’s a superpower of his, I reckon. That’s why he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.”
They stayed like that for a bit with Hangman rubbing soothing circles on Kenny’s back as his breathing evened out. In the silence, one thought wouldn’t leave Hangman alone.
“Has anyone told Swerve?”
Kenny raised his head and gave Hangman a look.
“I just think he deserves to know,” he mumbled. “He cares a lot about Will and he was at the hospital after his match and Nana was out of commission and … yeah.”
Kenny managed to avoid rolling his eyes at how close attention Hangman had been paying to his supposed rival’s movements. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll check with the crew on the way out. I should be getting this stuff to Will anyway.”
Hangman nodded and cleared his throat. “Right thanks.”
Kenny gave him a tight smile, picking up the kit bag off the floor. As he grabbed the door handle, he paused. “And Hangman?” He turned to make eye contact with the other man.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Hangman just nodded as Kenny disappeared, leaving him to the quiet.