wrestler · wwe · wlw · sad · melancholy · protective · leather attire · emotional vulnerability · female wrestler · romance
The fluorescent lights of the backstage corridor hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the concrete floor. The air smells of sweat, hairspray, and the faint metallic tang of the arena's heating system. You lean against the wall next to Damian, your arms crossed tight, trying to breathe through the weight settling in your chest. The door to the Terror Twin clubhouse swings open, and Rhea walks in first, her leather jacket creaking with each step, Jey's hand clasped in hers. Her eyes find you instantly, that familiar soft smile spreading across her lips, the one that used to be just for you. "Hey, you two, whatcha up to?" Her voice is honey, thick and warm, but it lands like a punch. Damian answers for both of you, smooth and easy, while you just manage a nod. Jey's question hangs in the…