∵  

  ∵  

「WHAT'S LEFT UNSAID,

SAYS IT ALL.」

      Three weeks had passed since New Japan Pro Wrestling introduced new faces into the roster. It was precisely twenty-one days ago that the promoters had kindly asked me to shake things up within the Bullet Club.

   Adam's departure from the stable was bittersweet, but the right time had finally come for him to make his exit and embark on territory we had seen some of our friend's grace.

   All of us anxiously awaited for that debut, and in the meantime, the Bucks lit their holy candles and prayed to their God for only good things to come towards Austin's way.

   While Marty was an addition that everyone loved, the promoters still wanted more. Writing members from the creative board were nose's deep into their notepads, scratching away ideas and coming up with new ones.

   Although I was told we'd most likely be heading into a brutal feud, I was also asked to keep an eye on one of their latest talent signings, Elliot Pierceson. 

   So I did. For two weeks now, I had been trying to talk to him. Yet, doing so was no an easy task.

As far as we knew, 

he wasn't problematic.

   Looking at him from the back of the bullet train, I tried my best to wheel myself forward, but I couldn't.

      Although he sat next to an older woman, there was no one in my way who prevented me from approaching him.

   It was rare, but for once, the shuttle was nearly empty. Elliot looked so lost in thought that I couldn't bring myself to interrupt him.

   More than that, Matt Jackson himself put it best when he said it was pretty damn hard to talk to someone who wore a zipped up jacket and propped up hoodie almost all of the time.

   Adding to his ensemble that hid the majority of his face and shape, Elliot always had two earphones deep into his ears.

   It was impossible to stop him, because pulling one's earphone out was just a no. There was a moment last week in which he was backstage in the gorilla area. 

   The second he pulled an earphone off, Nick made an eager run for it and attempted to greet him. As the younger Buck literally launched himself with a beaming smile, Matt had laughed out loud from behind as Elliot acknowledged, but straight up ignored Nicholas.

   Even when Nick stood in front of him with slightly furrowed brows and pursed lips, Elliot could only shuffle his feet, bop his head a bit, and keep his eyes shut.

     He was deeply lost into his music, and no Buck would rain on his parade.

   Although Matt found it downright hilarious, I found rude. I didn't want to speculate that he had something against us, but when I had noticed that he talked to others just fine, my suspicions arose.

   Nick had taken to calling Elliot a psycho-ghost, and looking at him from my own private corner, I couldn't help but to agree.

   His complexion was pale, the sickly looking kind. Even against his dark hair did his eyes look washed out.

   Lips well pigmented and stubble present, it all still somehow made his face look so gaunt. The only really prominent color on his face was the dark under eyes he always sported.

   That was the thing about Elliot that raised a red flag of concern in me. He always looked so damn tired, and on the edge, as if he were constantly on the run.

   Question is, what was he running away from?

   Wherever he went, Elliot walked so quickly it was as if someone held a gun to his head and forced him to quicken up.

         When the bus came to it's final abrupt stop, I rocked forward and convinced myself that today was the day— I was going to get a word with him.

   With more manners than I'd ever seen, Elliot helped the older woman beside him down. As she thanked him, he nodded and smiled so effortlessly that for a second, he resembled the functioning human he's with others.

   Once the lady turned a corner, I took two steps closer and reached my hand to pat his shoulder. More perceptive than I would have guessed, Elliot turned on cue and slapped my hand away.

   He broke into a mischievous grin as he shook his head and kept his piercing stare intently on me.

   As if he knew, 

I was left baffled.

   ❝I get it, you want me in the Bullet Club.❞ He boldly stated as my eyebrows shot upwards. ❝No, they asked me to keep an eye on you.❞  I corrected as this time, he licked his lips and cracked his neck.

   ❝You could have said no, but you didn't. Better yet, explain to me why you've been staring at me for two weeks when you could be looking for somebody else?❞

   He smirked victoriously as I remained still while he took two strides too close to me, and peeled his hoodie away from his head. 

❝Since you're such a good little soldier, 

go tell the office to leave me out of this.❞

   Bringing a hand up, he swiftly but gently slapped my left cheek twice as if petting me. Out of pure rage, my hand wrapped around his wrist tightly I was dumb-founded by my own outburst.

   The violence took me by surprise, but Elliot only smirked a smile the devil himself wouldn't be able to imitate.

   Leaning in much closer, I could feel his breath hot against my neck as he once again, spoke up.

❝Hit me with words, that's okay.
 But if you ever lay hands on me again,
 I'll fucking do something about that.❞ 

   He had threatened before pulling away to straighten his jacket and walk away. As if physically exhausted, my breath came in hitched as I watched him eerily float away. It was only when he turned a corner that it dawned on me that he was right.

    FOR TWO WEEKS, in a bullet train full of people I could only focus on him. He was the only force my eyes gravitated towards, and not even the fluorescent lights that beamed in the underground railroad could rival his commanding presence.

   My heart beat with life, and at that, my mind generated a photograph of him that only brought up memories now jaded in blue. 

   Not wanting to dwell on the past, I preferred to admit that something about Elliot was eerie, but seducing.

   Maybe it was silence or way of appearing so ghostly yet capable of such threat. The ominous air about him and questionable blood-shot eyes.

   Whatever it was, thinking about him was a more productive waste of time than the seductive treachery of a video arcade that once was our favorite place.

   Our favorite place we used to go to, where no one knew about our warm embraces inside photo booths, or the kiss good-bye I had with that golden star that was now a dim light inside my black hole heart.

   「CAST」

 RAMI MALEK
AS
ELLIOT PIERCESON

+

TYSON SMITH
AS
KENNY OMEGA

+

MATTHEW MASSIE
AS
MATT JACKSON
[ OLDER BUCK ]

+

NICHOLAS MASSIE
AS

NICK JACKSON
[ YOUNGER BUCK ]

+

AUSTIN JENKINS
AS
ADAM COLE

+

MARTIN SCURLL
AS 
MARTY SCURLL

+ possibly,
a few familiar
faces you love
and know.

「NOTES 」

‣ It's 3:50am and I am hyperventilating. As I think you might be able to tell by now, this will not be a Kenny Omega by female OC fanfiction. 

‣ If you have a problem with that, please just leave and think about life. I celebrate and accept all races, genders, figures, sexual orientations, whatever it may be. If you've ever been discriminated for any of those, just know that this is your temple or safe haven of sorts. I accept you, and I'm your friend.

‣ This story means a fuck-ton to me. I've been working up the plot and ideas for weeks now. More than that, I even bought an own separate journal for it. It's serious stuff.

‣ Updates will come in hopefully, once a week. 

‣ Biggest thank you to -MammaMia- for helping me with a face claim. To think I was going to go down a rather generic route before you freaking blessed me with your ever growing wisdom, THANK GOODNESS you're here.

‣ To everyone, I just hope you enjoy this. I haven't seen many Kenny Omega fanfics around, which is partly scary and exciting. As always, any type of comment means a lot to me, especially the ones where you let me know what stood out to you / anything really. 

   Much love,
Vi.