A/N: I was going to update some other stories, but I've been getting badgered about it, and I hate that. Aaaand Cara is amazing, so I decided to write this instead because she asked ever so nicely :) And I threw in some extra CM Punk, just for her. If anyone gets the pop culture reference in here, I'll write you a story.
Charts. Diagrams. Pictures. Sketches. Even blueprints! Those were all that covered the hotel room walls of my best friend, Jeff Hardy.
I think he's gone insane.
Ever since the Halloween party a few days before the actual holiday, he's been this way. It's like the face paint had become permanently attached to his face, as if he had fallen into a vat of acid that forever disfigured him physically.
With a new look comes a new attitude, and Jeff suffered from that syndrome in the worst way. I lost my best friend. I lost a piece of myself.
But I especially feel bad for his girlfriend, Harlee. She gets all of this, but in tenfold. I've seen some weird bruises on her, too. I'm not going to say they're from Jeff, but she's not exactly the most adventurous girl in the world...
I really, sincerely hope that he's not harming her, but it does seem like Jeff is on a dangerous turn in his life.
It all started at the Halloween party.
Jeff didn't really have a big costume idea. He just went as himself, I guess. He went back to his old Team Xtreme days with the glowing face paint, though. I dressed as a Harlequin court jester. I was hoping we could do a nice couples costume, but Jeff is all about the originality.
Everything was going fine. I was chatting with Eve Torres in the corner of Matt's living room while all the guys were playing a drinking game. They must have been playing "I Never."
"Okay, guys, here's the big one. I've never had a man crush on one of my male co-workers," Shannon said, sloppy when drunk.
The large group of guys looked around each other, waiting to see if someone was going to take a drink of their alcohol. Randy Orton was the only one who did, much to the shock and dismay of his friends.
"What? Dude, you're sick!" Matt laughed.
"It was John Cena back in OVW, okay? He's not here right now, so you will never tell him this!" Randy threatened, getting menacing with alcohol. I know he meant no harm, but things can always take a bad turn.
"I'm gonna tell him the next time I see him!" Jeff said, clearly sloshed to the point of no return. I love Jeff, but he was always a messy drunk. He truly is in it for the fun, and I know he'll be fine in the end.
But I'm not so sure anymore, because what he had just said triggered everything, or at least that's my philosophy.
Randy took the situation the wrong way.
"Yeah, well at least I don't fuck my life up enough to the point where no one has any confidence in my anymore!" he yelled.
Jeff didn't respond. I knew Randy had hit a nerve. I excused myself from Eve and headed over to Jeff's side. I was too late to calm the situation because Randy had continued on, continuing to strike that nerve again and again.
"And at least when I'm given a title shot, I make use of it the first time. I don't keep getting put in these things over and over again only to fail. That's what you are Jeff. You're the designated failure of the WWE. They use you to put over the guys who actually know what they're doing with their lives. How does it feel to be given these huge confidence boosts only to be pushed off the biggest high of your life, Jeff? Huh? How does it feel? How does it feel to know that you will never be a major champion? How does it feel to be a main event wrestler but to never capture the big one? How does it feel that your brother got one before you did? How does it feel to be second best?"
Jeff exploded. He tackled Randy right in the middle of the party. Every single guy in attendance was needed to break up the fight.
Jeff's never been the same.
Now, all he does is stay cooped up in the hotel at whatever city he's in and plots out the demise of his enemies. Right now, he's obsessed with the Undertaker. I guess looking back on it, it's only fitting. Jeff was given his first true taste of the big time in a ladder match against Undertaker, and he lost. It would be the first of many failed attempts at a world title.
Part of me feels bad for Undertaker, because not even I am aware of what Jeff is capable of, and it scares me.
Whatever fire Randy Orton started inside of me, I'm glad he did. The old Jeff Hardy was a washed out loser. The new Jeff Hardy takes whatever he wants whenever he wants it, and doesn't care who he has to hurt to get it...
...Even those he loves.
The face paint puts me in the zone. The black eyes and the Glasgow smile makes me look as insane as I feel and truly am now.
I owe Randy Orton the greatest debt of my life.
My current plan is the destruction of the man that cannot be destroyed: The Undertaker. Only Edge has ever really come close, but I plan to top him. No one will remember Edge when I'm done. His schemes will look like child's play compared to my plan. I've got blueprints of all the arenas we are going to have shows in soon. I have charts of possible traps. I have diagrams of his finishing moves and the proper ways to reverse them.
I am a man obsessed, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Come on, Jeff...It's our seven year anniversary!" Harlee whined. Gosh, doesn't she know when to go away? I'm busy, and she knows that this means everything to me. I will be the greatest in history, even if that means I have to become the greatest villain in history.
"Harlee, I'm busy! Go out with Eve," I demanded, hunched over the table in front of the mirror, engrossed in my designs.
"It's not the anniversary of the friendship between Eve and I, it's our anniversary, Jeff! Can you please just put down those blueprints and wash your face and take me out for one measly night?"
"Wash my face? Take you out? Don't you realize that tomorrow night, I have a match against Undertaker? I must destroy him. I will be the end of him. I will kill the Undertaker."
"Jeff, it's just a wrestling match. It's not like you're planning some epic novel or depicting some artistic masterpiece."
And that's when I did something that the old Jeff would have never done. I grabbed her by the collar and growled, "The death of the Undertaker must be nothing short of a masterpiece."
I tossed her to the ground, but I knew she wouldn't leave me. She cares for me too much. Yes, I do care for her, but right now, she's going to take a back seat to this new obsession. Some things in life are more important than love.
Did he really just do that? My Jeffy just threw me too the ground. "Mister J," I said, refusing to call him by his given name since he wasn't himself anymore, "I'm going for a walk."
"Okay, so if I just move the rope over here..." he muttered, already soaked back into his plans. I was out of his thoughts that had returned to the death of the Undertaker.
I needed to be with Jeff, but at this point...well, there was no point to this. When did my life become like this? We used to have the perfect relationship, but now...Now I'm in love with a schizophrenic daredevil of a clown.
Maybe a trip to the convenience store to buy junk food will take my mind off of---
Later that night...
"Honey, do you remember your name?" some lady dressed in white asked me.
"Harlee," I said. Of course I remember my name. I just don't know why my head is wrapped up and this crazy lady is talking to me. I've never seen her before.
"Okay, that rules out amnesia..." she muttered, scribbling down on her clipboard. "Do you remember anything from before you woke up?"
Yeah, my boyfriend threw me to the ground. But I wasn't going to tell her that. "No, not really. I remember taking a walk and then waking up here."
"Harlee, you were hit by a car while crossing the street. I'm going to go and get your doctor now," she said before leaving the room.
Hit by a car? What?
This is all Jeff's fault! If he wasn't so obsessed and insane, this never would have happened. He never would have done this to me. We would both be happy, and I wouldn't be in this hospital bed. I hate him! I hate him so much that I want to rip these bandages off of my head and strangle him with them. And I hope he has that smile on his face while I kill him. I'll become just as insane as that bastard is.
But then it caught my eye.
There was a single red rose in a vase on the table next to my bed with a note attached. I pulled the vase to me and turned the note over to read it. No one's ever left me flowers before, not even Jeff when he was normal. I think it's sweet.
I'm sorry. Hope you feel better soon.
I love Jeff! Isn't he the best? Right when I feel better, I'm going to buy that angel all the tools he needs to achieve his goal.
A/N: Longest one shot I've wrote in a while. Cara, I hope you like it. And I have a favor to ask you...