It wasn't supposed to happen like this. If it was up to Will Ospreay at all, what might have been his final in-ring moment wouldn't have happened at all. Years of injury had simply added up, making the neck just feel worse and worse. The probability of retirement was scary enough, but Will had been prepared. The Lights Out steel cage match at Forbidden Door was designed to push all the competitors inside of it to their limits. Will had been prepared to be pushed to his breaking point and the moment he had led his team to victory, Will had been prepared for a teary but wordless goodbye on his way to the surgery he knew he needed.
What Will had not been prepared for as he let the rest of his team leave the ring was the unpredictability of The Death Riders.
Later on, the gaps in Will's memory would be filled with the footage he was shown from after his team had left the ring. Without seeing it for himself, he wouldn't have remembered the chair being wrapped around his neck by Claudio Castagnoli after the brutal attack that he and Jon Moxley launched against him. Will wouldn't remember gasping for breath as he lay in the center of the ring while Kenny Omega and the rest of the men that he had teamed with that night attempted to save him from this terrible fate. No, Will couldn't recall anything as his soft blue eyes opened up to reveal the hospital room that he had been transferred to. The only thing that he knew for certain was that there was someone sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed, hands clasped and head bowed as if in prayer, that wasn't supposed to be there.
"Shouldn't you be worried about your ankle, bruv?" Will was surprised by the way his own voice sounded, scratchy and scarce after a chair had been wrapped around his throat. His neck had been stabilized, so he was unable to turn his head to fully look at the man who sat next to him. It was the smell of the other, standing strong against the smell of the sterile hospital room, that let Will know exactly who was visiting. It was leather and smoke, with just the faintest traces of the almond the other man liked to snack on during their car rides.
"Two days, Will," the voice of Swerve Strickland was strained with the tears that had been coming from him over the course of the time he had sat at the bedside of his best friend, "I waited for you to wake up for two days, Billy boy. I prayed to every fucking god who would listen. For a while, man, I…I thought you were…but you're awake now…"
Will didn't like hearing the tears in Swerve's voice. The other man was one of the strongest people he knew. To hear such sadness in his voice, to hear the tears that his situation, no matter how dire, had brought to a man he had started developing feelings for broke Will to an even smaller part of himself than he already felt as he watched the fluorescent hospital lights. "Bruv, I'm so sorry. I-"
Swerve let out a laugh, brushing his locs out of his face, "Did you just apologize for being in a medically induced coma? Man, fuck outta here with that noise."
Will couldn't help the sheepish grin that crossed his face. He wished he could turn his head fully to look at the man he had grown so fond of during their war against The Young Bucks. Even before then, Swerve was something that Will knew he could trust and rely on. "Your ankle. How-"
"It's gonna need surgery," Swerve admitted as he scooted his chair to sit closer to the bed where Will lay. He placed his hand on one of Will's, giving it a small squeeze. He waited on a baited breath, cold brown eyes boring a hole into Will's very being.
"I can feel it if that's what you're waiting on," Will whispered, barely audible over the thrum of medical equipment that was helping the hospital nurses keep him alive, "I'm not paralyzed, bruv."
"I was worried about you," Swerve admitted with a gentle huff, "I thought I was doing the right thing. I trusted those fuckers to help you, and they didn't! Omega, Ibushi, none of 'em!"
"I…I don't…" Will fought for the words to try and tell Swerve he didn't know what was being talked about. He couldn't remember any part of his brutilization. "I'm worried about you, bruv. I'm worried you aren't gonna take care of that ankle. I don't need-"
"I swear to God, Will, if the next words out of your mouth are that you don't need help, I will whack you upside your injured head," Swerve sounded exasperated, squeezing Will's hand yet again. He licked his lips nervously, hands clasped tight around Will's, "I…I need you to come back, man. I need you to come back and…"
Will cleared his throat, but could already feel the tears coursing down the side of his face. He wanted to come back. Hell, Will had never wanted to have to go away in the first place. The thought of having to stay away from the career he loved more than life itself and way from the man he had grown to love was terrifying. He didn't know who he was without the ring. He didn't know who he was without Swerve. He couldn't even reach up to wipe away the tears that now covered his face. He was thankful for Swerve reaching over to, as gently as he could, rub his thumbs over Will's cheeks to dry the tears. "I have to come back, Shane. I have to."
Swerve wanted to be pragmatic and hones with both himself and Will. Just as there was with any injury, there was a chance that neither he nor Will would come back to the ring. On a normal day, Swerve would have been the first to point that out. If it were anyone but his gold, shining Will then Swerve would have told them exactly what he thought of their dewy-eyed hope. Will though? Swerve never wanted to say or do anything that would bring another tear to those crystalline eyes. "You'll come back from this better than ever, Billy boy. And when you do, you know what we're gonna do?"
Will suppressed a hiccup that wracked his neck with pain, "Wh…what are we gonna do?"
"We're gonna fuck up the Death Riders," Swerve bent over to press a kiss to Will's forehead, "you sit tight while I go get a nurse, yeah?"
"Where the fuck do you think I'm gonna go, bruv? You think I'm gonna bugger on off to the cafeteria?" Will joked, before his voice waivered. He could hear Swerve get up from the chair and wet his lips before asking in a smaller voice, "You'll be back, yeah?"
Swerve had barely heard him from his spot by the door, every step an agonizing one due to the pain his ankle was still feeling from his own match with Okada. He hid his own pain, he knew Will wouldn't want to see the look on his face, "I didn't give up on you yet. I never will."
