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Roman hadn’t seen Cody backstage.
That was the first thing that felt wrong.
Not the win. Not the noise. Not the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears while people clapped his shoulders and told him he had just made history. He had won big matches before. He knew what this was supposed to feel like.
But Cody was always there.
Even when they weren’t speaking. Even when they were on opposite sides of whatever line they had drawn that month. Cody existed in Roman’s orbit like a constant. Annoying sometimes. Complicated always. But constant.
Tonight, he was just… gone.
Roman stayed longer than he meant to, nodding through congratulations he barely processed. Someone asked how it felt. Someone else laughed and said he was unstoppable.
Roman said the right things. He always did.
Inside, his brain kept replaying the same moment.
Drew’s boot connecting.
Cody hitting the mat.
Not eliminated. Not beaten. Just taken out. Like collateral damage in someone else’s story.
By the time Roman excused himself, the celebration had already shifted into something louder, looser. He muttered something about needing sleep before the flight. Nobody questioned it.
Back in his locker room, the quiet hit him hard enough to make his ears ring.
He grabbed his bag.
And froze.
Cody’s gear was still there.
Folded wrong. Tape shoved halfway into the pocket like he had ripped it off instead of unwinding it properly. Boots missing. Jacket gone. Everything else abandoned.
Like Cody had changed as fast as possible and left before his head caught up with his body.
Roman’s stomach dropped.
He pulled his phone out immediately.
RO 💞
> Where are you?
3:02 AM
He stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering, then typed again.
RO 💞
> I didn’t see you backstage.
> Did you already leave or are you still here somewhere?
3:03 AM
No read receipt.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Drew’s Claymore flashed behind his eyes again. The sound of it. The way Cody folded. The moment Roman realized he wasn’t getting back up right away.
“Fuck,” Roman muttered, already turning toward the door.
Medical.
He moved fast, shoulders squared, like momentum alone could undo what had already happened.
“Anything we can help you with, sir?”
Roman barely registered the voice. He scanned the room. Too empty. Too clean. No Cody. No trainers hovering around someone injured. Just equipment being packed away.
He nodded once out of habit and walked out again without answering.
The corridors felt hollow now. Post-event silence settling in like dust.
His phone was still in his hand.
Roman typed again before he could talk himself out of it.
RO 💞
> I know tonight didn’t go how you wanted.
> I just want to make sure you’re okay.
> You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.
> Just tell me you’re alright when you see this.
3:10 AM
He hesitated.
Then added another.
RO 💞
> I mean it. I’m not trying to fix anything.
> I just don’t like not knowing where you are.
3:11 AM
Still nothing.
The silence started to feel louder than the arena had.
Roman swallowed and typed again, softer this time without meaning to.
RO 💞
> I didn’t like how you went down out there.
3:12 AM
Three dots appeared.
Roman’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.
Then they disappeared.
No reply.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, and headed out to the private exit where his car was waiting.
When the door shut behind him and the city noise dulled into the insulated quiet of tinted glass and leather, Roman finally typed again.
RO 💞
> I’m in the car heading to the hotel now.
> If you’re already there just let me know you made it back okay.
3:18 AM
A second passed.
Then another.
He added one more before he could stop himself.
RO 💞
> Please.
3:18 AM
No read receipt.
Roman leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling of the car, jaw tight.
He told himself Cody was fine. That he was just upset. That he needed space.
Fine enough.
The thought did nothing to settle the unease spreading through his chest.
₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊
Walking into the hotel with both bags felt wrong.
Someone offered to help the Tribal Chief. Roman waved them off without looking. A small group asked for selfies, and it hit him late that he was the Royal Rumble winner now.
He forced a smile. Let it happen. Counted the seconds until security stepped in and cleared a path.
Their room was a double master suite.
Roman dropped the bags by the door and called out, “Cody?”
Not loud. Just enough.
No answer.
Something in his chest tightened.
Roman steps further into the suite, listening.
Silence answers him.
The living area is empty. No lights on except the soft glow spilling in from the bedroom. One of Cody’s shoes is near the couch, tipped over like it had been kicked off mid-step.
Roman’s chest tightens.
He moves toward the bedroom, slower now, like he already knows what he is going to find but needs to see it anyway.
The lights are dim.
The bed is untouched.
Roman stops in the doorway, eyes scanning automatically, and then he sees him.
Cody is curled into the corner between the desk and the bedside table, knees drawn tight to his chest, shoulders rounded inward. One arm is wrapped around his ribs like he is holding himself together. His head is down, face turned into his forearm.
He is not crying.
That helps. A little.
Roman steps closer and lowers himself to his knees beside him.
“Cody.”
“I’m fine,” Cody mutters immediately, voice muffled against his arm.
Roman does not believe him for a second. “You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t want to talk.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Roman keeps his voice even. “You left your gear. I didn’t know where you went.”
Cody exhales sharply. “I went somewhere quiet. Congratulations on finding me.”
The words land harder than they should.
Roman swallows it. “I wasn’t celebrating.”
Cody lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You won the Royal Rumble, Roman. I’m pretty sure there was some celebrating happening somewhere.”
Roman does not argue. He shifts closer instead.
“You scared me,” he says quietly.
That gets Cody’s head to turn, just enough for one eye to be visible. Sharp. Bright. Angry in a way that looks more defensive than hostile.
“I’m not the one who got hurt tonight,” Cody says.
Roman blinks. “You did.”
“No,” Cody snaps, sitting up a little straighter despite the way his ribs protest. “I got taken out. There’s a difference.”
Roman’s jaw tightens.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says.
Cody laughs again, harsher this time. “You keep saying that like it matters.”
“It does.”
“To you, maybe.” Cody presses his shoulder harder into the wall. “To me it just feels like I got erased so the story could keep going.”
Roman goes still.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Isn’t it?” Cody shoots back. “You won. Big moment. Fireworks. Everyone chanting your name. And I’m on the floor because someone decided I was expendable.”
Roman reaches toward him without thinking.
Cody jerks away.
“Don’t,” he says. “Not yet.”
Roman stops immediately, hand hovering before he lets it fall back to his knee.
“You’re mad,” Roman says carefully.
“I’m frustrated,” Cody corrects, but the word is thin and brittle. “There’s a difference.”
“With me?”
Cody hesitates.
That hesitation says more than anything else.
“I don’t know where else to put it,” Cody admits finally, quieter now. “You were the last thing I saw before it happened. You were right there. Then you were celebrating. And I just… wasn’t.”
The words land heavy between them.
Roman exhales slowly through his nose.
“I didn’t like it either,” he says. “Watching that happen.”
Cody scoffs. “Yeah. I’m sure it really ruined your night.”
Roman’s head snaps up. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I don’t care about you because I won,” Roman says, voice low but firm.
Cody freezes.
The anger drains just enough to reveal something underneath it. Something raw.
“I know you care,” Cody mutters. “That’s the problem.”
Roman frowns. “How is that a problem?”
“Because every time you win,” Cody says slowly, words coming out like he is figuring them out as he speaks, “I feel like I matter a little less.”
Roman’s chest tightens hard.
“That’s not true.”
“I know that,” Cody says quickly. “Logically. I know that. But tonight I didn’t even get the dignity of losing on my own terms. I just got removed. And then you got everything.”
He drags his hands over his face roughly.
“I was ready to lose,” he says, voice quieter now. “I wasn’t ready to be unnecessary.”
Silence settles between them.
Roman shifts closer again, slower this time.
Cody does not pull away.
They sit there longer than either of them realizes.
The anger does not disappear all at once. It thins. Frays at the edges. What is left behind is heavier. Quieter.
Cody’s breathing changes first.
Roman notices it immediately. The shallow pull of air. The way Cody presses his palm harder into his ribs without thinking. The slight sway when he shifts his weight.
“You hurt,” Roman says softly.
“I’ve been worse,” Cody replies automatically.
Roman does not react. He just stays close.
Cody stares at the carpet for a long moment, jaw tight, shoulders still tense from whatever fight he has been carrying since the ring.
Then he exhales.
It comes out shaky.
“I hate when this happens,” Cody mutters.
Roman tilts his head slightly. “When what happens?”
Cody does not answer right away.
His fingers curl against his sleeve, thumb rubbing the fabric in a repetitive motion like he is grounding himself.
“I can feel it,” he admits finally, voice lower now. “Like I’m slipping.”
Roman understands immediately.
The adrenaline crash. The hit to the head. The emotional overload. All the things that push Cody into that softer space whether he wants it or not.
“You’re okay,” Roman says quietly.
Cody shakes his head once. “I don’t want to fight it tonight.”
That is new.
Roman’s chest tightens a little at the admission.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
Cody swallows. His shoulders drop a fraction.
“I just… don’t want to feel stupid,” he says.
“You won’t,” Roman replies.
Cody lets out a weak huff that might almost be a laugh. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Silence settles again, but this time it is different. Less sharp. Less defensive.
Cody leans sideways slightly, shoulder brushing Roman’s arm before he catches himself and straightens again.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Cody does not argue. He just nods faintly, eyes unfocused now, exhaustion pulling at him from behind whatever stubbornness is left.
Roman watches the moment Cody’s body starts losing the fight.
“You want to move to the bed?” Roman asks softly.
Cody glances toward it like it is farther away than it should be.
“I don’t think I can stand up without getting dizzy,” he admits.
Roman nods once. “Okay.”
He reaches slowly. Cody flinches on instinct, then relaxes when he realizes what Roman is doing.
“I’ve got you,” Roman murmurs.
Cody exhales.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Roman slides one arm behind his back and the other under his knees, lifting him carefully. Cody’s hands grab onto Roman’s shirt automatically, fingers curling tight like muscle memory. His face presses briefly into Roman’s shoulder.
Roman carries him the few steps to the bed and lowers him down gently.
Cody immediately curls around the pillow Roman slides under his arms, knees drawing up, body folding inward like it finally found permission.
Roman pulls the blanket over him.
Cody’s eyes are already half closed, but his fingers catch Roman’s sleeve before he can pull away.
“You’re staying?” Cody murmurs.
“Yeah,” Roman says quietly.
Cody nods faintly and lets go.
Within seconds, his breathing evens out.
Roman stands there a moment longer than necessary, watching the tension leave Cody’s face.
Only then does he turn off the light.
Morning comes too fast.
Cody wakes slowly, the way he always does after nights like that. Not fully aware at first. Just the sensation of warmth, weight, something solid nearby. The pillow is still tucked against his chest. The blanket is pulled up around his shoulders.
For a few seconds, he does not move.
Then memory starts creeping back in.
The ring. The impact. The corner of the hotel room. Roman’s arms lifting him.
Cody exhales quietly and opens his eyes.
Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed, lacing his boots. He glances over immediately when Cody shifts.
“Morning,” Roman says, voice low.
Cody nods faintly. “Hey.”
His voice sounds smaller than he wants it to.
Roman notices. He always does. But he does not comment on it. He just hands Cody a bottle of water.
“Drink,” he says.
Cody obeys without argument, which probably says more than anything else could.
They move through the rest of the morning slowly. Bags packed. Lights kept dim. Roman keeps himself between Cody and anything sharp or loud without making it obvious.
Inside the room, Cody is calmer. Softer. Not fully little, but close enough that Roman can see it in the way he moves, the slight hesitation before he stands, the way his focus drifts.
The shift happens the moment they step into the hallway.
Cody straightens automatically.
Shoulders back. Jaw set. Expression controlled.
Roman sees it happen in real time.
The mask.
By the time they reach the car, Cody is quiet in a different way. Less soft. More tense.
Roman keeps a hand near his back anyway.
₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊
At the airport, the lights are brighter. The noise louder. Too many people moving in different directions.
Cody’s fingers brush Roman’s sleeve once.
Then again.
He pulls his hand back quickly both times.
Roman pretends not to notice.
They move through security with minimal interaction thanks to staff and private access, but the environment alone is enough to make Cody’s breathing shallow again.
Once they are checked in, Roman guides them into a private lounge away from the crowds.
The door closes behind them.
The tension leaves Cody almost immediately.
He sinks into the seat like his body finally gives up pretending. Without thinking, he leans sideways until his shoulder presses into Roman’s arm.
Roman does not move.
For a minute, neither of them speaks.
Then Roman says quietly, “You with me?”
Cody nods against his shoulder.
“Yeah.”
Roman studies him for a moment.
“How old do you feel right now?”
Cody exhales.
It is a long sigh, heavy and tired.
“Don’t,” Cody mutters.
“I just asked.”
Another sigh. Smaller this time.
Cody’s fingers curl into the fabric of Roman’s sleeve.
“You know,” he says quietly.
“I want you to say it.”
Cody shakes his head once.
“No.”
Roman tilts his head slightly. “Why?”
Cody hesitates.
“If I say it,” he says softly, “it makes it real. And we’re not home yet.”
That is the fear.
Public space. People around. Not fully safe to let go.
Roman nods once, understanding immediately.
“That’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to.”
Cody relaxes a fraction more into him, tension easing just enough to breathe.
They sit there together until boarding is called.
Private access helps, but the transition from lounge to plane still costs Cody more than he wants it to. Roman can feel it in the way Cody walks beside him. Close, but not touching. Controlled. Careful.
Holding it together.
Roman keeps his pace slow on purpose.
Once they reach their seats, Cody drops down immediately, shoulders sagging for a split second before he catches himself and straightens again.
Roman notices anyway.
Window seat for Cody. Blanket already folded there. Pillow tucked against the armrest.
Small mercies.
Cody pulls the blanket into his lap without thinking, fingers rubbing the edge of it in a repetitive motion before he realizes what he is doing and stills his hands.
Roman does not comment.
The engines start. The cabin hum fills the space.
For the first hour, Cody does okay.
He stays upright. Watches nothing in particular. Answers when Roman speaks.
The second hour is harder.
His focus drifts. His head tips forward once before he jerks it back up. He rubs his face hard, like he can scrub the feeling away.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, preemptively.
Roman does not argue. “Okay.”
Another hour passes.
Cody shifts constantly now. Shoulder rolling. Leg bouncing. Fingers picking at the blanket. Restless energy trapped under his skin.
His knee bumps Roman’s leg.
Then again.
Roman reaches over and stills it gently with his hand.
“Hey,” Roman says quietly. “Breathe.”
Cody exhales sharply.
“I don’t like this,” he admits, voice smaller now. “Everything feels… wrong.”
Roman nods. “I know.”
Cody presses his palms into his eyes. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re hurt,” Roman says. “That’s not stupid.”
Silence stretches.
Then, about four hours into the flight, Cody finally talks.
The words come slow at first.
“I was ready to lose,” he says quietly, staring at the tray table. “I really was.”
Roman stays silent, letting him go.
“That part didn’t scare me,” Cody continues. “You winning doesn’t scare me. You’ve always been… bigger than the moment. I knew that.”
Roman swallows.
“But getting taken out like that,” Cody says, voice tightening, “it made me feel small. Like I didn’t even get a chance to stand there. Like I didn’t matter enough to be beaten properly.”
Roman turns toward him fully now.
“You matter,” he says firmly.
“I know,” Cody replies quickly. “I know that logically. But feelings aren’t logical.”
He hesitates.
“I was mad at you,” he admits. “Not because you won. Because you were still standing.”
That lands heavy.
Roman exhales slowly. “I figured.”
Cody glances at him, surprised.
“You didn’t deserve it,” Roman says. “None of it.”
Cody nods faintly. His shoulders loosen a little.
“I hate needing help,” he says. “I hate that my head feels fuzzy and I can’t keep track of things and I just want to lean on you in the middle of an airport.”
Roman’s voice softens. “You can lean on me anywhere.”
Cody huffs weakly. “Yeah. I know.”
The tension drains out of him after that.
His movements slow. His head tips toward Roman’s shoulder without him noticing. Roman adjusts slightly to support the weight.
For a while, they just sit there.
Then, two hours before landing, Cody stirs again.
Restlessness returns.
He pulls back, rubbing his face hard, blinking like the lights are too bright.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I’m fine,” Cody insists, defensive again. “I don’t need—”
Roman reaches into the seat pocket.
Cody notices immediately. “Roman.”
Roman pulls out the headset anyway, untangling the cord with calm, steady movements.
“I’m not a kid,” Cody says, irritation creeping in. “You don’t have to do that.”
Roman glances at him. “I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re doing the thing,” Cody insists.
Roman meets his eyes. “You’re tired. Your head hurts. You’ve been fighting this since last night.”
Cody scowls. “That doesn’t mean I need cartoons.”
Roman’s voice lowers slightly. “It’s just noise that doesn’t ask anything from you.”
Cody hesitates.
His shoulders slump a fraction.
Roman gently sets the headset over his ears before he can argue again.
Cody grumbles under his breath but does not pull it off.
“What is it?” Cody asks.
“Something calm,” Roman says.
The cartoon starts. Soft colors. Slow pacing. No sharp sounds.
Cody resists at first. Arms crossed. Jaw tight.
Five minutes pass.
Then ten.
His breathing evens out.
His shoulders drop.
His head tilts toward Roman.
Roman watches carefully, adjusting the headset slightly when it slips.
Cody murmurs something unintelligible and slumps sideways, forehead resting against Roman’s shoulder.
“Still don’t need it,” he mumbles.
Roman almost smiles. “Of course not.”
Cody’s fingers curl loosely into Roman’s sleeve.
Within minutes, he is asleep.
Roman stays awake longer, making sure the breathing stays steady, the tension gone.
Eventually, his own eyes close too.
₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊
The descent wakes Cody slowly.
Not all at once. Just enough awareness to frown and shift, fingers tightening briefly in Roman’s sleeve before relaxing again. Roman pauses the tablet and slips the headset off carefully.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “We’re landing.”
Cody blinks up at him, eyes unfocused. “Already?”
“Yeah.”
Cody exhales, long and tired, and lets Roman guide him upright so the seatbelt can be fastened. The cabin lights feel brighter now. Sharper.
The wheels touch down with a soft jolt.
Applause breaks out somewhere behind them. Cody flinches instinctively and leans closer to Roman again before catching himself and straightening.
Roman does not mention it.
They move through the airport quietly. Roman keeps one hand at Cody’s back the entire time, steering without making it obvious. Cody walks beside him on autopilot, gaze drifting, steps slower than usual.
By the time they reach the car, Cody is barely talking.
The ride home is silent.
Cody curls into the seat, knees drawn slightly up, forehead resting against the window. Roman checks on him every few minutes, just making sure he is still there.
He is.
Just quiet.
₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊
The house feels different the moment they walk in.
Warmer. Familiar.
Roman barely has time to close the door before something large and excited barrels toward them.
Pharaoh.
The dog’s tail is wagging hard enough to hit furniture as he circles Cody, whining with excitement. Cody’s whole posture changes instantly.
“Oh,” Cody breathes, dropping onto the couch as Pharaoh climbs halfway into his lap.
Roman smiles faintly. “Dustin dropped him off earlier.”
Cody buries his face into Pharaoh’s fur, arms wrapping around the dog’s neck.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs. “Missed you.”
Pharaoh licks his face enthusiastically.
Some of the last tension drains out of Cody’s shoulders right there.
Roman watches it happen.
Relief settles heavy in his chest.
He is okay.
That matters more than anything else tonight.
Roman sits beside him on the couch, close enough that their shoulders touch. Cody leans into him automatically, one hand still tangled in Pharaoh’s fur.
After a minute, Cody glances toward the living room shelf.
Roman follows the look.
The basket.
Hidden in plain sight. Blanket draped casually over the top like decoration.
Roman reaches over, pulls it down, and sets it beside Cody without a word.
Cody’s fingers move immediately, pushing the blanket aside, rummaging through the familiar contents. He finds the paci and brings it up without hesitation, settling it into his mouth with a quiet sigh.
His shoulders drop another inch.
Grounded.
Not sleepy. Just calmer.
Roman drapes the blanket loosely over Cody’s legs while Pharaoh shifts between them, content and warm.
“I don’t feel tired,” Cody says around the paci after a moment.
“That’s okay.”
“I just… don’t wanna think about wrestling,” Cody adds softly.
Roman nods. “You don’t have to.”
Cody’s eyes brighten a little. “Can we do something?”
“Yeah.”
“Like play?” Cody asks, hopeful now.
Roman huffs a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh. “Yeah. We can play.”
That earns him a small, genuine smile.
Cody grabs one of Pharaoh’s toys and tosses it a short distance across the room, laughing softly when the dog scrambles after it and brings it back.
Roman leans back against the couch, watching.
The loose posture. The soft focus. The way the tension from the night is finally gone.
For the first time since the ring, Cody looks completely okay.
Roman exhales slowly.
The Royal Rumble win feels distant now. Secondary. Almost irrelevant compared to this moment on the couch with Cody smiling again.
Yeah.
This is what matters.
Chibimomo Wed 18 Feb 2026 07:13PM UTC
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