Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera.

I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers, but this is for fun.

There's nothing serious about this fic. Kind of angsty at times, but that's it. It shouldn't be taken seriously. It's comedic, with some moments of smuttiness. All in all; ridiculous. Well, enjoy. I enjoyed writing it.

The narrator's name is on top of the entry in bold. Enjoy!

Jeff Hardy

I don't know what I really wanted when I walked out to see my estranged brother. He was ready to fight, jogging like he was Rocky Balboa, with a look of determination in his eyes. But God help me, he looked perfect.

He gave me a strange look when he saw me in normal clothes, hands in my pockets and a look of determination in my eyes. Although I couldn't hear what he was saying over the roars of the crowd, I was pretty sure he was yelling "What are you doing?" I was wearing his shirt, and he knew it- that made him angrier.

We used to be so perfect, so in sync with each other. I knew him and he knew me better than anyone else. Whenever I did something reckless, he was my safety net. When I was in trouble, he was my salvation. Ever since we were little and he took the blame for the vase I broke, he was there. That was my Matt, my rock and my sanctuary, the one person I trusted with my life.

And he hated me because of that one night, a week before the Rumble.

I knew that, if I talked to him, he'd calm down. He'd be my brother again, and I'd be happy again. I loved a lot of people before, but none like him.

"I'm not going to fight you, Matt," I said as soon as I got to the ring, 'Like it or not, you are my brother."

"I'm not."

"You are. And I love you. All you need is some time to realize that you don't hate me, and that I don't deserve this."

Matt snatched the mike. "What's the matter, Jeff? Scared? Fight me." I said no, and Matt slapped me. "Come on, Jeff, fight me."

I gave him the other cheek and said "Fight yourself." He slapped that cheek too.

"Fight me!" I turned around, turning my last cheeks at him. Half of me wanted him to slap them too, but the other half knew that Matt wouldn't. Matt had too much control.

-------------------------------------

Matt Hardy

Why did Jeff have to act like such a damned saint? It makes it harder for me to convince myself I hate him when he gets all noble. And I can't love him.

Sure, Jeff and I have a connection. We know each other's moves so well, it's like we're one person. He was the first to congratulate me on every title I've won, and vice versa. We've had each other's backs. Sure, he had a tendency to screw up, but I was happy to take care of Jeff.

But then that night happened, and I just couldn't stay the way things were. I betrayed him at the Rumble, I threw his stuff out of my house, and I changed the locks. Vince was upset that I ruined the storyline, but he's a businessman and he saw that a Hardy fued would be great for ratings.

Jeff, on the other hand, was inconsolable. He wanted to know why I ignored him for so long, and then betrayed him. He yelled outside my house, and I was afraid someone might hear him. How could he act like what happened was no big deal? Why couldn't he see how wrong it was?

I went into the locker room and bumped into Adam, the last guy I wanted to see. Besides Jeff, that is. He followed me to my locker and said, "Well, even the best laid plans fall apart, Matty."

"Not now, Copeland."

"It's never now with you."

"Then get the picture. I don't want to talk with you." I pulled off my ring gear and started to get back into normal clothes.

"Your jeans are on backwards."

"Whatever." I took them off to put them on right, but, suddenly, Adam's hands were squeezing my waist.

"Thanks for last week," he whispered in my ear, "What with that save and the Rumble, a guy could think you're getting sweet on him."

"Leave me alone," I said, pulling out, "And keep your damn hands to yourself."

As soon as my pants were up, I prepared to go, but Adam turned me around. "I can't help it. You're just so touchable." He leaned closer. "And so kissable..."

"Back off Copeland." Somebody pulled Adam off of me and pushed him away. And there I was, face to face, with my little brother. "I still have your back, Matty. Always have and always will. Are you okay?"

"Goodbye." I tried to walk away (that never seems to work, does it?) but Jeff just followed. "This is ridiculous, Matt."

"No, what's ridiculous is you wearing my damned shirt. We were supposed to fight. Vince TOLD us to fight. Why didn't you hit me?"

"What do you want me to say? I miss you. Besides, you left the shirt among my things. I thought it was a gift." It was the shirt, and I knew it- the shirt that I wore that night after the ECW before the Rumble, the night where everything changed. "Although if you'd prefer it off..."

"Keep it."

"Oh, I can live with that. It smells and feels like you..."

"JEFF!" I turned around, catching him off guard, "You have to stop this. Leave me alone."

"Matt." That's it. Jeff said it so sadly that I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I couldn't. That would just bring me back to the Tuesday before the Rumble, when I felt so wrong and so right.

"Please Matt... Don't stop... I need you... Oh, Matt... FASTER!"

I shook my head, pulling myself out of the past. "No Jeff. I CAN'T. You have to stay away from me."

"Matt, I need you."

"No, you don't. Goodbye."