I'm supposed to be working on 'Torn' or something but no…I just had to work on this. Yeah, you noticed that the two genres I put for this story are completely and utterly opposite of each other. What? I've seen those two genres together before. I hate you, TheMizMagnet; you made me love Miz fiction too much. But seriously, more Miz fiction will make me happy.

Even if I have to write it.

Anyways, so this is a triangle and I really, really need help from you guys…I love them both too much but I don't know what to choose. Mizena or Mizorrison? TELL ME!

Ferris Wheel
Chapter One: John Morrison & The Miz: Walking

6:00 AM; wake up

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep…

Mike groaned as he threw the clock to the floor. Stupid clock. Why the hell do I still have that thing anyways? The clock was ready to break at the impact of the fall and he wished that it would and he tried to go back to sleep but his eyes were halfway open; the tiredness was ready to make his eyes drop and when he was finally able to shut his slightly awake eyes, he heard the sound of the phone ringing.

When his screen flashed, he saw the time and his heart was about to skip a beat. 6:00 AM. Mike's eyes widened. Six? What the fuck? Who's calling me is a dead man!

"Hello?" his voice was raspy and he didn't try to make it sound any softer.

"Damn, I woke you up?"

"Yes, you have seven days to live by the way."

"You haven't figured out who I am, did you?"

"…Santa Clause?"

A chuckle that was all too familiar. He knew this person. Mike knew that but he couldn't register in the thoughts in the morning.

"Yeah, sure, Santa Clause will be calling you at 6 in the morning in June."

"I know that sarcasm from somewhere."

"I'm giving you time to figure out who I am…"



"…Angelina Jolie?"

"Yes, Angelina Jolie is calling you in 6 in the morning…and she sounds like a guy…"

"Your point is?"


"Let's not play games in the morning when I'm planning on how I'm gonna kill you."

"It's the Shaman of Sexy, the Friday Night Delight, John Morrison."

"What the hell are you doing calling me at this time? You, of all people. You know how bitchy I am in the morning."

"Yeah, sadly, I do."

"What's that supposed to mean…? And why in hell's name are you waking me up at this time?"

"Guess who's in town?"

"Let me guess. The Doors?"

"No! But are they?"


"The State Fair! You used to love going there, don't you? From what I remember, it's one of those times that you're happy and not bitching out about something that isn't right! You going this year?"

"…why are you calling me again?"

"Mike, I know you're angry-"

"Angry? I'm pissed off. What's the deal with all the stuff you fucking said about me?! What, you think you can just insult me in front of everyone and call me the next day and pretend that nothing's wrong?"

"Mike…calm down…"

"I am calm!"

He wasn't and he knew it. His blood stirred so violently into his body. Curses being shouted inside of his head.

"Yeah, and I'm Cinderella…"

"And what's the deal with that Mizerella junk?! What happened to us, you bastard? What happened to you—?"

"Mike, please, calm down…"

"I. Am. Calm!"


"I'm calm! DAMMIT!"

Mike took deep breaths before he clutched his stomach and pressed his body close to the walls.

"…let me ask you again. Are you going to the fair, Mike? Because that's the only reason I called you. I was just seeing if you were in that same good mood you always are when you figure that out-"

"Depends, are you going to be there?"

An edge to Mike's voice and he knew it. He intentionally strengthened that edge in his voice.

"I don't know. I probably am. I mean, it's a tradition by now, right?"

"I don't want to be in the same state as you! Not go out so we can magically 'work out our problems'. I don't have a problem. YOU DO!"

"Excuse me…I don't sing stupid, cliché songs in the shower!"

"It was one time!"

"It was Britney Spears!"

Mike flushed pink and he was too glad that this was a phone conversation as he placed a hand on his pounding head. Why the hell was he spending time with this? He could be asleep now.

"…no comments, Mizanin?"

"No. No comments."

Mike slammed the phone shut and hoped back into his bed, ready to fall asleep again but he couldn't. Great. Just great. Just what I need! But he knew that John Morrison was right. This was one of the rare times in the year in which he wasn't complaining about anything. He was always cheerful, that was right, always a little child, too true but this day used to be so special to him. This fair used to be the light of his existence. He just loved it. He loved the smell of the air; he loved the energetic hype that he'd always get as he'd go around collecting candy (he was always energetic but this time, he'd been even more energetic, that was proved to be impossible but he did it) and he felt impelled to do so.

He pulled the covers on top of him but in ten minutes, he kicked the covers off and went inside of the shower to do his morning bidding. Stupid Morrison. Stupid life. Stupid clock.

How can one clock make so much noise?

As Mike went back to close the clock, to turn out the noise, he was about to throw the clock in the trash but that wasn't enough to tune down the noise.

He'd play around with the screw driver but then again, he didn't know which button or whatever was the one to mute the damn thing.

He can't get rid of the clock. He just can't.

He didn't know why he couldn't get rid of the clock from Hell.

He just can't.

6:30 AM; walking

The sun was shining.

The birds were chirping.

The clouds were scattered all around the blue sky.

But it seemed like the sun was dull.

But it seemed like it was a song of horror that the birds were singing.

But it felt like the sky was gray.

He shook his head as he walked down the road and Mike didn't know why the world seemed so bitter today—this was supposed to be one of the best days of the freaking year and he was hiding behind a fake smile…why?

He heard the sound of panting from behind him and saw oh joy John Morrison jogging right beside him and when Mike stopped walking, John started too, "what happened to the fact that you're not going to the fair?"

"I'm not in the mood," Mike snapped.

John stared at him, his face crumpling. "What happened to you? You used to be excited even if I mentioned the fair, but now…God, you changed. You…you grew up."

"What? Are you implying that I wasn't grown up before?" Mike pushed John so that he was behind him as he walked off.

"You're still you. Just that you're more mature-"

"Save it."

John ran towards Mike's side and when he had gotten there, he stopped running and started walking alongside with him and no words came out of their mouths for a while as Mike stopped walking.

"Why are you here? Are you following me or something?"

"No," John stated, pushing his sunglasses to the roof of his nose as he stared directly into Mike's pure ocean blue eyes, "I just saw you walking and decided to join. Is that a problem?"

Damn, he's good!

Mike curled his tongue inside of his mouth, "yes, yes, it's a problem."


"You know why! Now, stop asking me all of these questions-"Mike stopped when he felt John's hand grab onto his own and they were both staring down at their now linked hands, Mike tore his hand away from John's grip. "You think that you can touch me like you did when we were together? I'm not your bitch anymore!"

"Who said you were-"

"Well, if it isn't Mizorrison," they heard an all too familiar voice chuckle.

Oh no…God, why? Why do you hate me? Mike's eyes met with John Cena's similar baby blue eyes. Humor lapped into John Cena's eyes, a stretched smile crossing his features as he walked towards them, standing beside John Morrison and Mike Mizanin, his eyes switching from Morrison to Mike.

"Not funny," Mike said flatly.

"Who's in a bad mood? Who's in a bad mood?" Cena cooed to Mike as if he was just a baby which caused Mike to punch Cena in the stomach, causing him to step backwards, "ow, ow, ow!" he exclaimed in fake pain. "Seriously, my grandma hits harder than you."

Mike rolled his eyes. "At least I don't live on steak and ice cream."

"At least I don't sing in the shower."

"It was one time!" Mike exclaimed, staring angrily from Cena to Morrison, "and I still sounded better than you."

"Whoa, I'm intimidated."

Mike punched Cena again but instead of his stomach, this time, he hit him in the face, enough to break his face, but it didn't. Shockingly. Cena held his face and Morrison stared at him in confusion.


"Don't. Underestimate. Me."

He left without another word. Maybe he did need a few moments in the fair. And he could hear Cena and Morrison talking with each other but he ignored them and as he stepped in front of the cheerful fair, he couldn't help but let a smile slide past his lips at all the memories that were here.

It didn't matter that those memories were all with John Morrison and hurt like hell since this year; it wasn't going to be like this…

At least he had a happy moment one time in a year.

He curled his tongue inside of his mouth.

Yeah, Miz, you shouldn't let those two idiots ruin your fun. You can have so much fun all by yourself—


Who the hell was he kidding?

He walked inside anyways, with thoughts of trying to get a well day but Mike had no idea what was in store with him for the rest of the day…

Yes, I'm supposed to be working on a million other fics. Don't judge me. This one will be shorter than most of my stories.

Dedication to: TheMizMagnet. I love you, Aly! Go read her fics and be jealous! She's too awesome for words, seriously.

Okay, the plot will thicken throughout the chapters… don't worry. I don't do anything a cliché. This is just a beginning.

How is it until now, sweethearts? Reviews? Please?

X Sam.