Post by Sebastian Everett-Bryce on Nov 18, 2021 12:53:03 GMT -5
It wasn’t the loss. It was all of the losses. One by one they’d started to cloud everything that he could see. He’d lost and lost and lost and no-one could understand how deep that cut him. Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third. The arrogant, brash, rich kid with a deep-seeded entitlement.
Except he’d long since accepted that he was entitled to nothing.
It was dark, save for the low light of the television. After the loss in Boston he’d stayed in the shower for a full hour trying to wash away the stain, but it stuck to his skin like tar. He couldn’t shake it - time and again it had happened to him.
He’d text Sloane to let her know he was flying home tonight - he wasn’t in the mood for a party. He didn’t want to bring her down, even moreso when he spotted the back and forth she’d had on Twitter with her new beau.
Sloane Taylor was a girlfriend for the entire world to see. He didn’t need to drag her down tonight.
And yet, when he stood at those gates waiting for his flight, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his best friend stood at his side. She gave him a solemn smile and pulled him into a hug.
But he felt nothing.
He smiled, but it wasn’t real. He made jokes and she laughed but he felt no joy.
They’d landed in Chicago and immediately headed home. Kit handed over Quil and left - the small spiky ball curled up in Seb’s hand. It should have made him feel comforted that this small creature felt comforted by his presence.
But he felt nothing.
They’d sat down, for just a minute. Sloane had put… Something on the television, but neither of them watched. Instead, Seb stared out of the window into the darkness. On the far side of the couch, he would hear a small giggle or a catching breath. Her face lit up by her phone, and barely looking away. And as the hours slipped away, she’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face. Seb still watched the night, thinking about what he would do the following night.
His contract ended on December 31st, the extension he’d signed after losing two Championships in one night at his first ever Horizons coming to an end. He thought about the end - going home. About telling his father that he’d failed and that he needed help. He thought about the sneering looks from Grant and Tasha. He thought about the idea that perhaps he would never wrestle again after that one day.
But he felt nothing.
Or he felt too much. Everything was pain. Everything was agony, so much so it had pushed him to numbness. Or perhaps the pain was all he’d felt and he’d merely gotten used to it. And yet, when Sloane awoke a couple of hours later, he broke into a smile and told her one more time how happy he was for her. She gave him another hug, and then told him she would take a quick shower and they could go for breakfast.
He walked to her room an hour later, and he could hear her talking and laughing. He smiled and shook his head, before turning away from her room and grabbing his coat.
He had a big day ahead.
He’d caused quite the storm today. His apologies and his thanks - but he’d wanted it to be right before he made his announcement. He’d wanted everyone to know that he wasn’t the terrible person that he’d been painted as. No amount of Johnny vitriol or Duncan slander would stop him from doing what was right.
And so, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third had tried to do the right thing.
And he felt nothing.
As they day had gone by, he’d managed to start to mimic his own behaviour. The jokes, the flirtatious innuendo, the ridiculous antics that would draw him attention. And yet he felt apart from it, as if watching someone else performing a play. The story of his life.
And then he’d made his way to that ring and told the world the truth - that perhaps he wasn’t right for this business after all. His failings, the ignorance of his existence, the constant failure to feel like he was ever enough… all of it had overwhelmed him to the point of anesthesia.
He should have felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as he spoke, he should have felt lighter. But he didn’t - regret pulsed through him, because he knew too late that leaving wasn’t the right thing to do.
“Oh well.. I’ve committed now… No holding back…” He’d thought.
And then came his salvation.
James… Fucking… Raven.
The representation of prophecy and insight - the one who stepped forth to block him from his unmitigated error. He who would offer himself as the solution to all of Seb’s problems. His huckleberry.
And he felt nothing.
The backstage was abuzz with the newest arrival. Would it be for now? Would it be forever? Was THE James Raven here in UGWC to stay? It was a huge day for everyone, an even bigger one for Sebastian.
And yet there wasn’t a mention of anything that had come before Linken Park had interrupted Sebastian’s sermon. No concern that nothing had changed. James Raven or no, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third still had no contract in less than one months time and all anyone seemed to care about was The People’s G.O.A.T.
Even Twitter was alight. Sloane had taken a moment following her own announcement to comment. Shawn Warstein had even text him - “Pulling out the big guns in Raven, I’m impressed.”
Everyone congratulating him on managing to score the big one.
And he felt nothing.
He should have been happy about Raven, he should have been angry his position had been ignored. He should have been so many things, but all he he felt was… Whatever this one, ongoing sensation had been.
He’d failed as a Cross Hemisphere Champion.
He’d failed as a Cooperative Champion.
He’d failed as a Chaos Champion.
He’d failed as a World Champion.
He’d failed as a Massive Melee Winner.
He’d failed as a Battleground Winner.
He’d failed as a Grand Slam Winner.
He’d failed at Keeper of the Keys.
He’d failed at Horizons.
He’d failed at Relentless.
He’d failed his family.
He’d failed his allies.
He’d failed Sloane.
He’d failed and failed and failed.
And he felt nothing.
Or he felt everything. There was no way to truly know.
He’d returned home that night alone, while Sloane was otherwise engaged. He pulled open the door to his bedroom and walked straight into his bathroom. He leaned over the sink and felt the urge to vomit. He held it back, with his eyes closed tight. And when he opened them again, he was staring into his own eyes.
“Enough now.” He said, before driving his fist into the mirror. When he pulled it back, he felt felt the warm trickle of blood on his hand, and the sharp sting of a cut.
And for the first time since he could remember, his smile was genuine.
And he felt something.
And he didn’t want to let that go...
Except he’d long since accepted that he was entitled to nothing.
It was dark, save for the low light of the television. After the loss in Boston he’d stayed in the shower for a full hour trying to wash away the stain, but it stuck to his skin like tar. He couldn’t shake it - time and again it had happened to him.
He’d text Sloane to let her know he was flying home tonight - he wasn’t in the mood for a party. He didn’t want to bring her down, even moreso when he spotted the back and forth she’d had on Twitter with her new beau.
Sloane Taylor was a girlfriend for the entire world to see. He didn’t need to drag her down tonight.
And yet, when he stood at those gates waiting for his flight, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his best friend stood at his side. She gave him a solemn smile and pulled him into a hug.
But he felt nothing.
He smiled, but it wasn’t real. He made jokes and she laughed but he felt no joy.
They’d landed in Chicago and immediately headed home. Kit handed over Quil and left - the small spiky ball curled up in Seb’s hand. It should have made him feel comforted that this small creature felt comforted by his presence.
But he felt nothing.
They’d sat down, for just a minute. Sloane had put… Something on the television, but neither of them watched. Instead, Seb stared out of the window into the darkness. On the far side of the couch, he would hear a small giggle or a catching breath. Her face lit up by her phone, and barely looking away. And as the hours slipped away, she’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face. Seb still watched the night, thinking about what he would do the following night.
His contract ended on December 31st, the extension he’d signed after losing two Championships in one night at his first ever Horizons coming to an end. He thought about the end - going home. About telling his father that he’d failed and that he needed help. He thought about the sneering looks from Grant and Tasha. He thought about the idea that perhaps he would never wrestle again after that one day.
But he felt nothing.
Or he felt too much. Everything was pain. Everything was agony, so much so it had pushed him to numbness. Or perhaps the pain was all he’d felt and he’d merely gotten used to it. And yet, when Sloane awoke a couple of hours later, he broke into a smile and told her one more time how happy he was for her. She gave him another hug, and then told him she would take a quick shower and they could go for breakfast.
He walked to her room an hour later, and he could hear her talking and laughing. He smiled and shook his head, before turning away from her room and grabbing his coat.
He had a big day ahead.
He’d caused quite the storm today. His apologies and his thanks - but he’d wanted it to be right before he made his announcement. He’d wanted everyone to know that he wasn’t the terrible person that he’d been painted as. No amount of Johnny vitriol or Duncan slander would stop him from doing what was right.
And so, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third had tried to do the right thing.
And he felt nothing.
As they day had gone by, he’d managed to start to mimic his own behaviour. The jokes, the flirtatious innuendo, the ridiculous antics that would draw him attention. And yet he felt apart from it, as if watching someone else performing a play. The story of his life.
And then he’d made his way to that ring and told the world the truth - that perhaps he wasn’t right for this business after all. His failings, the ignorance of his existence, the constant failure to feel like he was ever enough… all of it had overwhelmed him to the point of anesthesia.
He should have felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as he spoke, he should have felt lighter. But he didn’t - regret pulsed through him, because he knew too late that leaving wasn’t the right thing to do.
“Oh well.. I’ve committed now… No holding back…” He’d thought.
And then came his salvation.
James… Fucking… Raven.
The representation of prophecy and insight - the one who stepped forth to block him from his unmitigated error. He who would offer himself as the solution to all of Seb’s problems. His huckleberry.
And he felt nothing.
The backstage was abuzz with the newest arrival. Would it be for now? Would it be forever? Was THE James Raven here in UGWC to stay? It was a huge day for everyone, an even bigger one for Sebastian.
And yet there wasn’t a mention of anything that had come before Linken Park had interrupted Sebastian’s sermon. No concern that nothing had changed. James Raven or no, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the Third still had no contract in less than one months time and all anyone seemed to care about was The People’s G.O.A.T.
Even Twitter was alight. Sloane had taken a moment following her own announcement to comment. Shawn Warstein had even text him - “Pulling out the big guns in Raven, I’m impressed.”
Everyone congratulating him on managing to score the big one.
And he felt nothing.
He should have been happy about Raven, he should have been angry his position had been ignored. He should have been so many things, but all he he felt was… Whatever this one, ongoing sensation had been.
He’d failed as a Cross Hemisphere Champion.
He’d failed as a Cooperative Champion.
He’d failed as a Chaos Champion.
He’d failed as a World Champion.
He’d failed as a Massive Melee Winner.
He’d failed as a Battleground Winner.
He’d failed as a Grand Slam Winner.
He’d failed at Keeper of the Keys.
He’d failed at Horizons.
He’d failed at Relentless.
He’d failed his family.
He’d failed his allies.
He’d failed Sloane.
He’d failed and failed and failed.
And he felt nothing.
Or he felt everything. There was no way to truly know.
He’d returned home that night alone, while Sloane was otherwise engaged. He pulled open the door to his bedroom and walked straight into his bathroom. He leaned over the sink and felt the urge to vomit. He held it back, with his eyes closed tight. And when he opened them again, he was staring into his own eyes.
“Enough now.” He said, before driving his fist into the mirror. When he pulled it back, he felt felt the warm trickle of blood on his hand, and the sharp sting of a cut.
And for the first time since he could remember, his smile was genuine.
And he felt something.
And he didn’t want to let that go...
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