A short fic written by yours hated for his headcannons and strange feeling of connection to the narrator/mc @buyazze
WHAT IS IT? sort-of angst I guess, just because Laredo gets emotional and is mental bc I said so
WHATS INSIDE? Lucha Libre, Cruiserweight Championship, steadily growing rivalry, written in LK’s view (first-person) after May 2 Lucha
SUMMARY! Follows Laredo’s reflection on his journey to becoming CW Champ and his current conflict with Rey Fénix. LK falls down a dark and emotional spiral because he’s mental and is more pressured than he thought by Fénix and his feelings about him, as well as jealous…
Sure, Fénix held the Cruiserweight belt once in his career with Triple AAA. That was well over four years ago, the last time I had the belt in my possession. He pinned Taurus in a five man match between him, myself, Taurus, Bandido, and El Hijo del Vikingo. He would later surrender it just a year later because his “schedule was too busy.” Too busy? If you’re so busy that you can’t hold a championship longer than the year you did, then why compete for it in the first place? That’s rather unlike the great “Man of a Thousand Lives”, or whatever he was. Now he’s coming back to take it from me, from the real man who has fought tooth and nail for months—years—to earn this belt around my waist again.
These were my thoughts as I sat in the back of a cab to the nearby hotel I was staying at, not wanting to drive a whole day back home in Nuevo Laredo after wrestling in Querétaro. The hotel was only about thirty minutes from the arena, giving me plenty of time to wind down with my playlist of favorite songs playing in my headphones. The taxi driver was quiet the whole ride (well, towards me anyway - he was on the phone with his mother the whole time?) and kept his eyes forward, the occasionally bumpy otherwise smooth road seeming to roll beneath the car as I watched the view pass me by. The car smelled faintly of some aroma from the cheap air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror, the only other smell being the blood in my nose and the sweat clinging to my jacket and bottoms; I didn’t bother getting fully changed before leaving, just zipping a jacket on to my bare torso and stuffing my mask into the waistband of my bottoms, my bag of extra gear and other necessities at my side and taking up the rest of the backseat.
On the sidewalk was a vendor's stand selling mask replicas of popular luchadors as we stopped at a streetlight, the only one catching my eye being La Parka’s. La Parka was currently one of the hottest and most beloved luchadors in the industry right now alongside Fénix and his brother, WWE Intercontinental Champion, Penta. As if with intention rather than the shuffle function doing what it does, “Amen” by Halestorm began to ring through my ears, a great song sounding bad with my current mindset. I always give Fénix a hard time about his jealousy over me and how his brother was being rewarded more than he was, but in all honesty…
It was hypocrisy.
I was being a hypocrite for saying he was the jealous one.
If anyone was jealous, it was me, and simply for the fact that I had no one. All I had and all I’ve ever had was myself in this business. Ever since I became Cruiserweight champ, I was alone. What hurt the most was that I used to work with the Lucha Brothers years ago in tag team matches. Thinking back on those times stung a bit more than my bottom lip from the hit I took in the ring, the faint taste of copper lingering on my tongue mixing with that sharp pain forming in my chest. Just another day, I guess.
———
My lip remained a bit swollen as I looked at it in the bathroom mirror, but it wasn’t as bad as I had thought. Shutting the sink off after brushing my teeth and washing my face, the fatigue of the day really began to seep into my bones now that I was bathed and comfortable in a loose tee and sweatpants. I didn’t bring many casual clothing since I would only be in town for about three days, in which each day would consist of work. My suitcase remained open where I had left it on my bed before showering, my mask still folded on it next to my bottoms and phone. Neatly storing my gear away and putting my suitcase on the floor, I slid beneath the thin cotton sheets of the hotel bed and reached over to turn the lamp on my nightstand off, my phone in my lap sinking into the covers. This was probably the next best thing to wrestling: having no other worries but resting for the next day. But something ate at me inside, something I couldn’t put my finger on but knew I had to find.
I slid an arm beneath my pillow for more cushioning as I turned onto my side, unlocking my phone and opening Instagram, my fingers seeming to move on autopilot, as if they already knew what it was that I needed to see. The first thing on my feed was a story posted by the Triple AAA page, posting news about all the matches from tonight. It was nearly midnight by now, and the story was a little over an hour old. Mindlessly tapping through each photo, I froze once I got to that one that I needed to see. The match card of my match with Fénix. Whatever was eating away at me must’ve bit a nerve, my fingers faintly trembled and my throat began aching as soon as the clip began playing. It was after Fénix had pinned me and began trying to help me to my feet, and I remember vividly how his hands felt on me. In this business, physical contact is obviously needed. But the way he helped me, it was too friendly. Too close. I quickly retaliated before I got too used to the warmth of his fingers, the lingering residue of his tape on his skin mixing with sweat, that cologne he seemed to always spray on his skin before each match I had with him. It was too much.
I let my phone fall on the mattress just as fast as tears began sliding down my face. Are you serious, Laredo? Are you fucking crying? Over your rival?! He’s been making your life hell for over a month now, constantly taunting you over that belt! Without that belt, what are you? I know I used to be a bit of a crybaby, but that was when I first started wrestling, nearly 20 years ago. I’m too damn old to cry over things now! I pushed my face as hard as I could into my pillow, my hands gripping at the thin pillowcase so tight I could feel each stitch straining in my hands. That ache in my throat and chest only grew worse with the raspy sobs that were choked out of me, the only things playing in my mind being every interaction I’ve ever had with Fénix. Nobody had ever made me so vulnerable like he has, regardless of my mask being on my head or not. I knew damn good and well that he wanted my belt after seeing how he was so quick to come and “congratulate” me at Rey de Reyes. As quick as he was to clap, he was quick to challenge. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be where he is today! If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have so much heat and popularity on social media like he does now.
If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t know what this feeling is.
