he looked at his phone in shock even though he shouldn’t be. everyone’s been texting them every other minute since his father got attacked by the inner circle. he wanted nothing more than to jump in the ambulance with him, to be with his father… who clearly needed him right now, but executive duties means that one of them needed to stay on sight ( the good brothers offered to ride with nick, texting him updates as soon as they had them. it had him uneasy, he should trust the good brothers, but he didn’t. ) and that hurts, this whole situation hurts his heart.
adam’s text should’ve made him feel better, but if anything it gave him a headache. he hadn’t heard from adam since that night at the bar, the night they kissed. if adam didn’t feel the same way, Matthew could, and would, one hundred percent understand that—— matthew has been nothing short of an asshole to him the past few months ( or few years ) but at least give a guy some kind of heads up instead of going ghost.
‘i dont know, i haven’t heard anything yet. but no news is good news i guess’
a little morbid but matthew was in a morbid mood.
‘how’s your arm by the way?’
texting him felt weird, this whole situation between him and adam, was weird. and it wasn’t gonna get resolved until matthew brought it up ( cause the window for hangman to ask him about it, had definitely passed )
Adam’s butt vibrated— paused in the hallway outside the locker room he fished his phone out of his back pocket. He stepped aside so a small flock of wrestlers could get at the door. Shoulder leaned-up against the wall he eyed the notification on his lock screen. Two texts from Matt Jackson. Pinch him, Adam must be dreaming, Matt had replied.
The earlier message, asking after Matt’s father was a bit like a smoke signal. A helpless shout into the void to express sympathy and concern. Matt and Nick were close to their parents. A trait Adam shared. If the positions were switched and Adam was in Matt’s shoes, he’d be inconsolable. Texting Matt was the right thing to do but a reply was more than Adam expected.
He opened the messenger app.
The brief exchange felt fragile as glass. Held-up by shoe string and duct tape polite pleasantness. Adam’s opinion on Matt and Kenny and Nick wavered day-to-day, hour-to-hour. Sometimes his jaw set and the blood in the chambers of his heart boiled. Sometimes he was more wistful, dreaming of by gone days. Sometimes he sat in production meeting and tried not to imagine running his hands through Matt’s hair.
‘no news is always good news’ His thumbs typed-out the response and sending it was like a shotgun blast next to his ear. ‘He’ll be fine. Your dad is tough like you.’
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
