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himbos-hotline · 6 months ago

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can i request, Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise, for hangmega?

Talk to me (talk to me, talk to me)

Wordcount: 4771 words Ship: Hangkenny Triggers: self harm, Negative self talk, Implied/refrenced alcoholism, blood, implied/refrenced past relationship, panic attacks, throwing up/puking READ ON AO3

Adam really isn't sure if it's his blood that he can taste dripping down from his lips as he lays in the middle of the ring, breathing heavily and swallowing the heat from the lights as his lips part. He swallows, thick and heavy and he follows the feeling of the blood twisting its way between the gap in his teeth. On his knees, he spits at Kenny's feet, watching how the lights glitter in the small spreading pool of redness.

The lights burn when they catch Adam's eyes, filtering through a tangled mess of hair like sun peaking through the gaps of trees; he breathes, hands on his knees as Kenny's fingers knot between his matted curls. He gasps and the crowd follows suit, gazing at him as Kenny drags Adam to his feet, leaning against the ropes. He feels the side of Kenny's hand jab between his chest and it feels like Kenny is trying to dig through the fat on his chest to dig blunt nails into Adam's ribs. Pain skates from the splitting skin and Adam almost finds it ironic in a way, Kenny; a God in the eyes of many, a burning star in the eyes one, trying to carve himself anew from the bones of someone he reduced to ashes a long time ago.

Adam ignores the biblical aspect of the moment to soak in the pain, letting it twist like veins over a gravestone as he gazes up at Kenny as he knees and chops, all frantic and unprepared and as he sinks his teeth the curve of Adam's forehead, he thinks about how rabid coyotes fight because they know they're dying. He growls through the pain, hands digging into Kenny's shoulders and he shoves, harder than what he meant too because Kenny goes tumbling through the heavy air, arms reaching upwards towards nothing until he crashes against the floor outside with a thud that makes Adam flinch inward. The crowd, faceless and painfully quiet stare in nervous excitement as Kenny screws his face up, hand grabbing at his shoulder.

Adam knows it's his time, that he could get an upper hand. He shakes his head, letting the guilt sink down his throat as he climbs the ropes, feet in perfect timing with Kenny and Adam falls after Kenny, not looking to see if he'll catch him. He lands on Kenny; stomachs pressed together, knees colliding into the side of Kenny's chest and Adam ignores how familiar it must feel for Kenny; to have someone he once loved fall through the sky, giving him everything apart from the gentleness that he has been so starved of. Adam shoves his hair out his eyes and grins, breathes through the pain like a panic attack and his feet shift, unsteady but focused.

The wood of the table is cold under his fingertips, the metal creaks just a little as Adam pulls the legs up feels the satisfying pop in his hands and he turns the table, looking over his shoulder to glare at Kenny; on his knees blinking up at Adam almost, like for once, Adam is worthy of being looked at. He breathes in the taste of sweat and copper, drags his fingers carefully across the end of the table and he walks back to Kenny, he stares at him, breathing through his teeth as he hurls him up onto his shoulders, legs dangling either side of his shoulders and Adam pretends that the red on his face is from the heat of the lights, and not the burning of memories floating through his head like a steady stream.

The table folds around Kenny like bones, sharp edges press into his shoulders drawing blood from his back and Adam spits blood at his feet again, finally the angel has fallen; man-made wings lay discarded, no longer a part of his body. Kenny winces again and opens his eyes slowly, eyelashes gluing together until the last moment when blue eyes, dark and unfocused glare up at Adam, tracing the twitching muscles in his back as he climbs back into the ring.

There's something almost sick about the way that Adam stares down at Kenny, tongue pressed deep into the corner of his lips. He thinks about his next move, about the aching in his chest and the pain that tangles itself around the base of his spine like a vine. He squeezes his hands tight, locks his fingers between one another and squeezes as hard as he can and the pain almost feels like praying, that the ache is something holy just under Adam's skin; his sweat holy water that bathes him in a sinful desire of hurt, of aching, of meaning.

Kenny crawls back into the ring, barely beating the ten count and Adam feels his heart flip in his chest, the sound of heartstrings pinging back into place like guitar strings finally tightened back into place. Kenny's fingertips grace across Adam's ankle and it almost burns. Almost.

He gathers Kenny onto his knees and then onto his feet, before settling him on his shoulders again but Kenny swats and drags blunt nails across the curve of Adams eyes and the sting is enough for Adam to lose his grip and he feels Kenny lift him onto his shoulders and drive him onto the mat, and there's a few seconds where Adam wonders if Kenny is seeing him as someone else. He digs at Kenny's thighs and he feels his legs shift off his shoulders and as Kenny breathes, wiping sweat from his eyes, Adam knows that for a few seconds he morphed into a ghost that still has Kenny's heart firmly between its fingers.

He watches how Kenny wobbles on his feet, mouth open as he tries to gasp in the chill in the air and Adam knows he could win, that all it takes is just to hit Kenny once more but something settles in his stomach like a stone and it drags his tummy down until it sits at the base of his boots, He wanders slowly towards the apron and stands there watching how Kenny paces, swinging his fists like hes trying to find someone that isn't there anymore; he bares his teeth and throws a punch into the air that Adam almost wonders if it was really meant for him. He shakes his head, eyes catching the flash of fabric down the apron and fear crawls slowly up his spine.

The Bucks stare at him and he stares back, nervousness crossing his face. Matt leans against Nick, hand digging into the corner of his patterned shirt almost like his baby brother is holding him up, holding him together and Adam feels ember of anger flicker just under his tongue; he wants to scream that this doesn't concern Matt or Nick, that this isn't their fight to win. They lost Adam long before Kenny believed they did and now isn't the time for reconciliation but he stays silent and stares, hands gripping at the ropes.

Matt looks at Nick and it's enough of a conversation for them to part, separating themselves like birds being thrown from the nest. Nick stumbles over to Adam's side, cautiously and Adam can only focus on the sound of his breathing and the scratching of Nick's sneakers across the stained padded canvas that hover below Adam; a dark abyss of safety that Adam questions just if Nick will force him to see.

He feels Nick's nails itch against the canvas, gathering flood under the chipped corners and Adam feels the embers sizzle on his tongue, extinguished by the kindness and apology that glows in the blue of Nick's eyes. They squint just a little in the corner under the bright lights and Adam feels his lips split apart in the attempt to do anything other than gasp in tired breaths as he stares at Nick, feet soldered to the metal bar under the thin apron.

Nick smiles, it's small and fleeting and raw; it's meant only for Adam and as he glances over his shoulder at the World title sitting so perfectly behind Don's shoulder, everything makes sense. Kenny wobbles hopelessly in the ring while Matt stares, brown eyes filled with emotions. It hurts Adam just enough to shift his eyes back to Nick, who nods.

It's such a simple action, muscles tensing and relaxing in Nick's neck but its enough to start a fire under Adam's feet and he leaps over the top rope, letting his arm collide with Kenny's throat. "Stay!" Adam gasps into the gap between Kenny's head and the ring canvas, quiet enough that it feels like a prayer; something holy for the fallen angel and the man cursed from the day he was born.

Kenny doesn't answer Adam's prayer, he twists his shoulder weakly over to the side and Adam stares into the lights for what feels like forever, teeth gnashing and sneering at the bright lights until Don's reflection leans over him and blocks out the light and Adam feels himself snap.

Something comes back, hatred or secondhand fear and Adam feels it chill like a second skin over his arms. He slams split fists square into Don's jaw and the scream that he emits as he tumbles onto the floor feels heavenly, Adam gasps and heaves out a tired chuckle as his body starts to cramp.

He's running out of oxygen, his body breaks down its fat as Adam stares at Matt, and he nods, eyes flooded with begging. And it's enough. Kenny doesn't kick out of Adam's second lariat. He simply lays there; broken and free. The crowd erupts around them and Adam presses his forehead against Kenny's shoulder, rubbing the embers of blood across his tacky skin. "Thank you.." Adam whispers, feeling Kenny's fingers dig into the fat of his hip and as someone taps the curve of Adam's shoulder blade, he rocks back onto his knees and breathes out a sob.

The title still has Kenny's name on it when Adam gets back to his hotel room long after the match has finished. The Dark Order have long since gone back to their own rooms, smiling as Adam promises that he'll sleep soon. He tries but something still burns under his skin, making his very veins melt under his aching muscles. He prods at the bruises that builds on his shoulder, presses the curve of his blunt nails in the fresh stitches on his chin, pokes at the slice through his eyebrow and the pain only adds to the stinging; Adam feels his arteries melt, blood drizzling slowly over his muscles, carving them down like a waterfall cascading over rocks. His chest heaves with the lack of oxygen and Adam rocks forwards, pressing his head between his temples hard enough that they pulse between his fingers, faster and faster until Adam is trying to claw them out from the sides of his head; yanking at frizzing blond curls just to feel anything.

He feels almost guilty for how his hands tremble; he should feel happy. He won. He's going home, there should be so much joy that floods his sleep deprived mind but as he stares, following the curve of the gold, the sweat stains on the leather, he feels like nothing more than a failure. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, like it's swollen and pressing against the back of his teeth and he gasps around the blockage, choking on the shaking inhale and gagging on the rushing exhale.

The panic rushes and then stills and Adam slumps back against the hotel pillows, gasping for air like he's just cum but there's nothing ecstatic about the tears on his face or the skin that has gathered under his nails. There's nothing orgasmic about being a failure. As he curls up on his side, Adam keeps the world title in the corner of his eyeline almost if he stares hard enough, Kenny will appear under the fleeting moonlight; all rippling muscles and gentle lips. Just behind Adam's eyelids, Kenny reaches down and gently cups his cheeks.

"Cmon cowboy, you think this is champ behavior?" He asks, voice buttery smooth and thick and Adam hiccups in a breath, tilting his head against Kenny's cold fingertips. He blinks down at Adam as he tucks himself closer around his trembling frame, pawing at the stubble on his cheek before one hand floats almost instinctively to the title, stroking his fingers across the nameplate. "You worked hard to get this but it's mine. You know that right?"

"I know.." Adam answers before he realizes that he's talking, his voice feels feather light and the words stick to his accent like honey; gluing them to the back of his throat and Adam coughs a little and flutters his eyelashes open and Kenny disappears behind a storm cloud. "I know." Adam replies again using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that gather just under his eyes.

He sits up almost too quickly, pressing bare feet against the carpeted floor as the room spins, tilting and blurring and Adam hates that feeling is caused by a lack of oxygen and not from drinking.

He should order himself another bottle, he thinks as he wobbles his way to the connected bathroom, feet unsteady and aching almost like the weight of his body is too much to carry the short distance. His shoulder collides with the pristine styles and Adam winces just a little as his body finally betrays him and he kneels, arms wrapped tightly around the toilet as he throws up, it trickles down his nose and there's almost a comfort in the acidic taste that stains the back of his teeth, he spits the last of the bile out of his mouth and shuffles his way like a child towards the shower.

He doesn't even wait for the water to warm up before he curls up under it. The cold nips and bites at the back of his neck and Adam picks at the bile stuck in the ends of his curls, pretending that he doesn't crave the stinging that comes with yanking on his hair until strands tumble and wash away under the water. Tears and lukewarm water settle on his eyelashes, staining them a dark brown and Adam blinks away the sting, kicking his legs out pathetically in front of him.

His fingers find fresh, halfmoon shaped scars on his temples and he traces the shape with his nails until his hair is stained a light pink and red paints its way across the back of his neck, over his shuddering chest until it gathers across the fat of his hips where finally it seems to stop, mixing with hard water and staining the floor below him. The throbbing in his head isn't enough to crave the voice that echoes louder and louder in the back of his head.

"Please just leave me alone!" Adam yells, almost sobbing into the palms of his hands. His legs trembles and as the overhead light flickers off, Adam sits and sobs silently to himself, using the moonlight and a broken disposable razor to carve across the fat of his hips like meat; fileting himself alive for the next person who wishes to dig their teeth into him, the next person who wants to lick his very existence off their tongue as he pants, hands eager behind them. The voice echoes and screams and as Adam's eyes blur and the light flickers back on, it overflows leaving Adam pathetic and empty and alone.

He doesn't look at the title when he shuffles his way back into his hotel room; he shoves his stinging aching frame into a faded pair of sweatpants and pulls a hoodie on quickly, pulling the sleeves over his stained hands. A cloud cuts past the moon slowly and it catches the title like a spotlight and Adam looks over his shoulder at it. He simply stares, hoping that if he just looked hard enough it would disappear and Adam could go back to having something to fight for but the moon doesnt move off the shimmering gold and Adam's hands tense at his side, emptiness flooding over towards anger until he can't feel anything over than the anger, the jealousy that pulses through his torn veins painting his skin in reds and greens and Adam scoffs.

The title is lukewarm between his shaking, blood-stained fingers and Adam drags his fingers across the chilled metal watching how the darkness of his blood captures the lightness of the moon and he chuckles, a little dryly and a little unhappily as he thinks about just how much Kenny loves a star that's still so far out of his reach, how he burns himself alive just so someone else can adore the flames from afar.

Adam hates just how much Kenny Omega has blinded him. How the shimmer of gold barely stained him enough, that somehow he was never enough for Kenny. He growls, lips curled and teeth glinting like knives under the lowering moon as he tosses the title into the bottom of his duffle bag, kicking it until the zipper presses against the wall. He breathes heavy, tests the balance back on his feet and stares down at the floor, the bend of his shoulder aches and Adam barely registers the the stain on his hoodie sleeve until he's clinging to his phone moments later, waiting for room service to leave a bottle of whiskey on his doorstep.

The doorbell goes and by the time Adam can muster up the energy to open the door, the bottle sits discarded on a small silver tray where the glasses, still dishwasher warm, sit upturned and untouched at his feet like an offering at an altar. He sighs and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle and closes the door. Adam isn't a God, he's barely a fallen angel. He's just a man, carrying the curse of being human.

The bottle knocks against the bedside table and the cap cracks between Adam's fingers and he lets it drop and roll on the floor. He follows the cap as it twists, clattering against the carpet as it rolls under the bed. The whiskey burns the fresh wound on his lip but Adam just swallows it down, head tilted back towards the stars blinking down at him, his phone buzzes in front of him and Adam wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he taps against his phone case before tossing the phone over.

The screen flashes with a text from Uno and Adam feels his stomach twist just a little. He promised that he would call if something happened, if for some reason his brain betrayed him and Adam was sitting alone in his hotel room with just an already half-empty bottle of whiskey as a friend. He sighs and swipes the text away, the phone blinks up at him and Adam listens to the phone ring on the other end.

"Huh?" The voice on the other side sounds tired and dry with sleep and Adam stiffles an apologetic smile as he knocks the bottom of the bottle against the hardwood of the table; whiskey splashes and curls its way up up the glass and Adam swears under his breath as it collects, dark and brown on the bedside table, soaking deep into the cracks in the wood. "Adam?" The voice calls, crackling from the phone, still sat cupped between his fingers.

He raises it to the side of his face, simply listening to the sound of another person breathing on the end of the line as tears press against the back of his eyes. "My..my ma said never to cry over spilt milk..." He starts, testing his voice before it cracks and all Adam can whisper out is "help" before the person on the other end of the line sighs.

"I'm coming cowboy..." The line dies and Adam watches as his lock screen stares back at him and then darkness reflects his tired face back at him, Adam searches the eyes that glare back at him and he wonders what people see in him when they cheer for him; he's all sunken, tired eyes and when he smiles, his teeth are crooked and alcohol stained.

By the time there's a knock at the door, Adam had finished the bottle. He rolls it between sweaty fingers and presses his palms against the glass before tossing it to the side as he stands, foggy eyes focused on the door in front of him; he's a captain on a sinking ship, going down into the drink with the only thing he'll ever care about. People won't remember him as a champion, just as that tired drunken wrestler.

A failed art project, tossed aside instead of shown proudly on the fridge, a dog too angry and scared to let anyone brush out the mats from his fur. He wraps his fingers around the door handle and sways, just a little. Below his bare feet the floor shifts and Adam follows with it, widening his stance as he licks to the distracting click of the door opening.

Kenny blinks at him sleepily from the hotel hallway; hair lazily dragged into a ponytail and a bruise swelling on his cheek. Adam searches the blueness and gasps in his last breath as he drowns. "Why are you here?" He asks, voice sounding tougher and meaner than what he meant it to.

Kenny sighs, glances over Adam's shoulder. "You wanted help." He blinks and his eyes are back on Adam, light eyebrows pinching up and lips creasing in a way that Adam used to love but now he just envies the fact that Kenny's lips aren't tainted with cuts.

"Not from you." Adam says, instead of focusing on the churning in his stomach. He turns his back on Kenny. He tries his best, he really does to walk in a straight line but his feet betray him, Adam stumbles forward and there's a new weight around his stomach and his heart calls for the comfort in the familiarity. "I'm not a kid, I can walk by myself." He grumbles, succumbing to the desire to touch Kenny.

The door slams behind them, lock clicking back into place and Adam feels Kenny's chest flinch under the palm of his hand as he shoves him away. Kenny throws his hands up, defeated. "You've been drinking."

"I've been celebratin" Adam corrects, slumping onto the bed and raising the empty bottle by its neck, it dances through the moonlight and Adam slumps back on the bed, chuckling dryly. "I beat the great Kenny Omega." He rolls his eyes, looking at Kenny who leans against the wall, staring at Adam like he's some kind of wounded animal. Adam scoffs at his own brain and runs his fingers through his hair, if he stares at Kenny any longer he'll feel the bullet slice through the throbbing at the back of his head.

"Yeah you won." Kenny says, and there's something akin to freedom that undercuts the look on Kenny's face. "You're the champ now." Kenny's nose wrinkles, eyes cutting to the floor. He stares into Adam's gym bag and frowns. "What's in the bottle?”

"What do you think?" Adam scoffs, slumping against the headboard, knees pressed against his chest, frowning when Kenny sighs. "If ya just gonna stand there starin at me, just leave yeah?" He slips from the pillows and curls around himself, his back to Kenny.

The mattress dips and Adam swallows the whimper that bubbles past his throat when he feels Kenny's fingers press gently into the side of his hip. It hurts and Adam shifts slightly, pressing his face deeper into the pillow. "I' proud of you.." Kenny whispers and Adam can't help the shuddering scoff that shakes past his lips, he just lets it tumble into the pillow as he rubs his face against the itchy pillow case.

"The last time ya said that, you got Callis to drive a camera into m'head." Adam grumbles, hand reaching up to run across the raised scar that sits hidden between thick blond curls. "You gonna do that again?"

"Do you see a camera?" Kenny asks, using his free hand to gesture around the small room. Adam knows what he's doing, he's trying to force novelty and comedy into the thick air around the two of them but when Kenny meets Adam's eyes, there's nothing but a sadness that floats past them between them. "Sorry..."

"Why are you apologisin for?" Adam sits up slowly, turning his arms inwards when Kenny moves with him. "You didn't do nothing but lose."

Kenny forces a half grimace, almost half smile onto his face and looks out the window, at the clouds that roll darker than before through the night sky. "It's gonna rain." He answers, ignoring Adam's question. He sighs "Why did you call me?" He asks once the clouds break and rain starts decorating the window.

"Who knows me better than you huh?" Adam shrugs, laying flat on the bed as he stares up at Kenny, head tilting into the pillows. "Afterall you made this place for me." Adam copies Kenny's earlier gesture and scoffs, dropping the back of his hand against Kenny's knee. "So where are you fucking off too after all this?"

"Where do you think?" Kenny drops his eyes from the rain and stares down at Adam's twitching fingers and scuffed palm. "I gotta go home. Rebuild, get better."

Adam just nods, sighing. "Yeah." He's careful to move his hand off Kenny's lap, letting his fingernails catch just a little of the faded fabric of Kenny's shorts before he rubs his face down with his palm. "Home." He rolls it around his mouth for a few moments before shaking his head and sitting up with a groan. "I need another drink." Adam grumbles, padding around the tousled comforter.

Kenny sits up, kneeling against the mattress and stares, eyebrows creased together and lips pressed together into a thin line. Adam glances at him over his shoulder. "What?" He snaps, dropping down to his knees. "You gotta act all high and mighty again over this? Like youre so fucking great Kenny!" Adam snaps, the words tumble out his mouth quickly and once they start melting against his lips he can't stop them.

"Why do you always think you're better than people? You're not better than me or-or anyone!" Lightning slices through Adam's rant and he scoffs, raising his arms in annoyance as Kenny just stares back silently. "Stop looking at me like that!" He snaps, hands balling into fists to slam against the mattress between them.

"Like what?" Kenny whispers, voice exhaled out alongside a heavy sigh.

"Like you're better than me! Like I'm something broken!”

"What's on your arm?" Kenny asks instead of justifying Adam's yelling. The air around the two of them stills; thick and heavy against their lungs as the two of them just breathes. Adam's bottom lip quivers, voice tangling around his throat like a thornbush. "You've started again haven't you..." Kenny says and his voice is so filled with comfort that something shatters inside Adam; he stares at Kenny while his eyes blurry and by the time he coughs out an apology, Kenny has his arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips pressing against the curve of his head.

"Is that why you called me?" Kenny whispers, tightening his grip as Adam sobs, trying to swallow his own tears. "Hey c'mon cowboy its okay, its okay let me help you."

"O..Okay" Adam whispers, letting Kenny hold him. "I'm sorry. Ya must think I suck" Adam lets out a dry chuckle and flinches when Kenny's fingers ghost over the stubble on his cheek, brushing just under his nose to wipe the snot away with his shirt.

"Never." Kenny whispers. His hands are almost too gentle for Adam to get used to, rough calloused fingers dance across the strings of his hoodie, over the exposed torn skin on his arms as he rolls up Adam's sleeves and pulls down the hem of his sweatpants. Kenny even lets Adam press his face into the crook of his neck as he washes dry blood away.

Minutes feel like hours as Kenny smoothes bandaids and kisses across forming bruises and torn skin and when he's finished, Adam blinks sadly at him and Kenny just smiles, so kindly that Adam almost breaks all over again. "Can you stay?"

"Always."

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TAGGING:

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @bikenny

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @pinksuperkliq @harvey-dent

#hangkenny #hangmega #last call #hangman page #kenny omega #mouse writes #reblogs are appreciated

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