i literally have not watched wrestling in months but i see things on here and i read articles and the implication of things alone was enough to inspire this brainrot
warnings for mentions of past self-harm and current depictions of eating disorders
Dominik Mysterio is wandering around backstage looking for his girls, looking for Liv or Roxi or Raquel, when he hears it, the obvious sounds of distress coming from behind the nearest door, and while he recognizes that the odds of it being any of them are very slim, it still rings familiar enough to have him rushing into the bathroom.
He slams into the largest stall, the lone and sole occupant still hunched and heaving over the toilet, and Dominik doesn't need to see their face to know exactly who it is.
He comes to a screeching halt, the door ricocheting off the wall behind him, and Rhea Ripley whips around in surprise. Her eyes are wide and wet and bloodshot, her cheeks painted with unavoidable tears, and there's bile and spit and a chunk of something unidentifiable smeared around her chapped lips. She scrambles back, her already pale skin going grey with horror and fright, and her gaze darts frantically around the stall as she continues to wedge herself deeper into the corner.
It stirs something within him, some longing tenderness he'd thought forever buried, but his heart still breaks at the sight of her so distraught and afraid. He approaches her slowly, like a lion with an injured paw, and he goes to his knees in front of her, heedless of the dirt and grime on the floor. He reaches out carefully, his thumb swiping at the mess around Rhea's mouth, and she jerks away, her eyes still wandering and terrified.
He rocks back onto his heels, something new and forgotten shattering in his chest, and he remembers a time when Rhea would have leaned in to his touch, a time when she would have expected it, would have craved it, but those days are long gone.
Now, Rhea just stares distantly over his shoulder, her body tense and defensive, as if she's still waiting for someone else to barge in, and Dom heaves a heavy sigh. "Rhea, baby, what are you doing to yourself?"
Rhea's awareness finally shifts to him, her attention seeming to zero in on him for the first time, and her brow creases in confusion. "Isn't this what you always wanted?" she asks, more crystalline tears spilling over the edges of her sapphire eyes as her expression crumples. "For me to be more feminine?"
It hits Dom like a fistful of bricks, the accusation, the realization that he did this to Rhea, he set all of this in motion, nearly two years ago, at Summerslam, when he publicly chose to be with Liv. He knew about Rhea's past history with self-harm, he knew about her previous struggles with eating disorders, and yet, he never once thought that his betrayal would trigger her relapse.
Rhea's so strong, so powerful, so formidable she could almost be considered invincible, and Dom was selfish, sure, he was petty and he was cruel, but he knew that Rhea would be okay, he knew that Rhea would find herself and become champion again, and she did, she did! Dom just didn't see how much she was still quietly suffering.
He sees it now though.
He sees it in the shadowed bags under her eyes, in the hollowed gauntness of her face and neck. He sees it in the slim muscles of her arms and the trim softness of her stomach. He sees it in the thin definition of her thighs and the slight curve of her calves. She's noticeably smaller than she used to be, than she was when they were together, and while she still looks fit and athletic she also looks... almost... delicate.
Frail.
Like one false move would crush her to bits and Dom isn't prepared to do that.
Not again.
He reaches out again, with both hands this time, her clammy skin tacky and cool where he wipes away at her drying tears, and he cradles the back of her head. "No, Mami, no," he swears, and Rhea chokes back a sob at his use of her old nickname. "This isn't what I wanted."
"Why did you do it then?" Her voice is still thick with emotion, her throat full of bubbling grief and phlegm, and she grabs onto his wrists to keep him in place. "Why did you leave me? Why did you take away my family?"
Her grip is as firm as it ever was, her palm crinkling and dry like tissue paper, and Dom swears he can feel each individual bone of her long artists fingers. It makes him not want to answer, makes him want to run, makes him want to lie and deny just how brittle and vulnerable she's become, but Dominik owes her an explanation.
A real one.
"Because you're too perfect, Rhea. You always have been. And I just couldn't live in your shadow anymore." She flinches at his harsh words, though whispered and softly delivered they may be, and Dom can feel his own eyes beginning to burn with moisture. "I knew that if I stayed, if you stayed, then you would always come first. It would always be Rhea and Dom, never Dom and Rhea, and I was okay with that because I wanted you to succeed, I wanted you to shine, I wanted you to be champion, and I still do. I just- I wanted all of that for me too. And that was never going to happen if we were together."
They're both crying now, glittering trails of diamond regret, and maybe Rhea never stopped, maybe she's been crying openly and silently since August 3, 2024, and maybe Dom is only now allowing himself to witness it.
He keeps wiping at her face, her damp skin shining like porcelain beneath the overhead light, and he traces the trembling curve of her bottom lip. "What about Liv, huh? You don't feel like you're living in her shadow?"
The question is but a breath against his flesh, something easily caught and captured and restrained, and her words rattle around in his palm like an invisible butterfly. "No," he sighs, shaking his head. "It's easier with Liv. She doesn't command attention like you do, she doesn't own the room. She's beautiful and talented and cunning, to be sure, but she's not you, Rhea. She never could be."
Dom does something incredibly stupid next, not that he's ever been accused of being the brightest bulb in the tron, and he's leaning in to kiss her before he can think better of it.
She smells strongly of vomit, the taste of it acrid and acidic against his lips, but that hardly matters to him because it's Rhea, and god, he's missed her so fucking much. He wants to devour her, wants to chomp and chew and consume, but she's not his anymore, and he's pretty sure neither of them is ready for that anyway.
He forces himself away, lingering in her air space for only a moment longer, and his gaze bores into hers with unflinching honesty. "I love you, Rhea. I always have and I always will. Nothing can change that. Not my own ignorance or my ego or my selfish pride. Nothing. And I know that you still love me too." She tries to turn away then, tries to hide from the truth of what he's saying, but Dom won't let her. "What I don't know is why you're doing this, okay. I don't know if it's to punish yourself or to spite me, but I know that you can beat this, Rhea. You've done it before and you can do it again."
His hold on the back of her neck tightens and he shakes her once, twice, to emphasize his words before using his grip to guide them both to their feet. He pulls her toward the sink where he grabs a few paper towels to clean and dry her face, and then he turns her toward the mirror. He stands behind her, his tattooed hands stark against the alabaster of her shoulders and her traps take up merely a fraction of the space he remembers.
"You're beautiful, Rhea. You're valid. In any form, at any size, in any shape, and I'm so sorry that I made you feel differently about yourself." She tries to look away again, tormented by the stark reality of her own reflection, but Dom won't let her. "You're better than this, Rhea, okay. You're stronger than this demon, more resilient than this nightmare, and if you can't do it for yourself then do it for Iyo. I know she's crazy about you."
Rhea stiffens at the mention of Iyo's name, her body and expression going granite hard, and Dom takes a step back in case Rhea decides to lash out. He's not afraid of her, not more than he ever has been, but he doesn't want her to feel threatened. That's not what this is about.
It's about recognition, acknowledgement, the forging of a path that just might one day lead to forgiveness, and Dom locks eyes with her in silver backed glass. "I'll see you around?"
Rhea widens her stance, her arms crossing confidently over her chest, and her old-time bravado slips into place like an automatic muscle memory as she tilts her chin up in defiance. "I look forward to it."
