Can't Hardly Wait.

His eyes open up and instantly the day is off to a rough start. The holidays are over, but the lingering feeling of sadness and anxiety sticks to him like a foul stench.

This is Bryan Williams.

Preparing for another trip, more work that needs to be done. Another flight to Mexico, the second time this year. The second Coup de Grace this year.

It doesn’t make him feel any better.

He shuffles through his phone, head down as he walks through the airport. Luggage desperately trying to keep up behind him as he tows it along. His eyes light up as he finds what he was looking for. A song he’s had stuck in his head for the longest time now, a song that wastes no time getting right into his head.

I'll write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight I can't hold a pen
Someone's got a stamp that I can borrow
I promise not to blow the address again

Can’t Hardly Wait by The Replacements.

“I suppose this is the time when I step in with something profound, and something that catches your eye.”

The airport is busy as ever, probably a terrible decision on everyone’s part to be here. Bryan looks at the camera, as he speaks through a mask.

Not the one he’s known for.

Jesus rides beside me
He never buys any smokes
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes

We can hear his music, it plays as he finds a spot to rest in the airport. Bryan doesn’t seem to be too worried about the camera in front of him, but nobody seems to mind either. They’re all off doing their own thing, moving at their own pace.

“Somebody asked me once: How do you stay hungry when you’re at the top?”

“I didn’t have an answer for them. For the longest time I wanted to be that guy, I wanted to be the one that everyone was chasing. Earlier this year I got my wish, at Coup de Grace.”

The music continues to play through his phone, as we can barely hear it in the background.

“Now I’ve returned, back at the bottom. I’m starting from scratch all over again, and that’s a feeling I know all too well. One that I don’t really like to have around, but I certainly wouldn’t push it away either.”

Bryan smirks, for a brief moment, but it quickly fades away as his cold exterior returns. He looks around him, there are fewer people now than before. Any background noise has been reduced to nothing at all, except for the song.

The song that continues to play, over and over.

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a hole in the drapes
I'll be home when I'm sleeping
I can't hardly wait

“I guess I had my fill of what I needed when I won the Union Battleground Championship earlier this year. I ate everything up, and at the time it felt great. I felt new, I wasn’t the same person that had walked into this company with his future in doubt. I had secured my place here, and cemented myself right at the top.”

“Or, I thought I did.” He says, with a shrug. The indifference of his actions almost seeping through the screen.

“So here I am again, looking for another chance at getting back to that moment. Chasing ghosts that no longer exist. Chasing a person that doesn’t exist anymore. That man who won the Union Battleground Championship disappeared the moment he lost the title to Indi. That Bryan has been replaced, unfortunately. I feel like he would know something better to do in this situation.”

Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff

“That ghost has been replaced by three others, the ones that this new me will chase. The ones that stand in the way of opportunity.”

The airport is noticeably empty at this point, devoid of anything other than Bryan himself. It looks desolate, like it had been this way for a long while.

“Fitting that this all happens in the new year, another chance at starting over again as the War Horse Champion. A title that I watched for months hang around, and finally be used at the proper moment. It’s not just an accomplishment that’s added to the numerous others that I’ve gathered over my career. It’s a tool that will get me back to where I want to be. Where I belong.”

There’s a glimmer of light that shines from off-screen, hitting Bryan in the face. The airport around him seems to be turning grey. Washed from all colors.

“It’s a means to an end for me. Something like that needs self-reflection, you need to see where you are in the midst of everything. After looking at my own self for a while, I decided to look outwards. I looked at my opponents, and I felt regret.”

The color creeps away from Bryan himself, the grey crawling up his legs the more he speaks. He sits there, allowing it to happen.

“The more I thought about it the more I saw the ghosts hanging around me. Just as empty as this place is right now, so is my match coming up.”

Before you know it, half of his body is colorless. Devoid of anything that stands out from the area that surrounds him.

Bryan looks down at the ground.

“American Tommy, Viduus, Bullet. Formidable opponents, mostly, but I can see are husks. Empty vessels that should have something more. They’re missing pieces, something tangible that just isn’t there anymore.”

He pauses, for a moment.

“Am I really expected to be worried here? Am I expected to take ANY of them seriously?”

There is such a violent shift in his tone, it’s almost off-putting. The intensity brings back the color in Bryan, it seeps out from him and onto the bench, he sits on.

“A child who spends her time fighting with every single member of Twitter. A man-child who might be the most apathetic wrestler in the history of this business. A man who used mystery and history lessons to ride his career to success, all before everyone figured out he was full of shit.”

He shakes his head, the palms of his hands slamming into the bench. It adds more color to the area around him as it does.

“Am I being punished?! I just want to be Union Battleground Champion again!”

He throws his arms into the air, out of frustration. He looks like a conductor bringing the colors back to life around him.

“I suppose that’s too much to ask for, decent opposition. Something semi-serious. Something that’s actually worth my time here.”

He’s standing now, bringing the airport back to life. It grows, moving throughout the facility faster and faster. What was once bleak and desolate has now returned back to its healthy self. After a few moments of this dance, Bryan returns back to the bench. Sitting down, as things are getting back to normal.

“Instead I’m better off trying to run a daycare in this match than actually think my opponents will provide any kind of meaningful competition.”

The airport is back to normal now, the people have returned and the background noise has almost all but taken over the music still playing on Bryan’s phone.

Almost. If you really stop to listen, you can still hear it playing.

“I see the same thing, over and over. It’s the same words, the same phrases being used about me. I’m stuck in time, stuck in a place where this year doesn’t exist. I’m in my own purgatory, here to deal with my consequences forever. Fools surrounding me, despite my best efforts to be rid of them.”

I can't wait.

“I can’t wait for the day where I don’t have to deal with this kind of cretinous behavior. I cannot wait for that challenge that I know will push me past my limits. I see that man right now, standing at the very top of this company.”

“I see the War Horse title as the way to reach him.”

Bryan smiles, as something off-camera gets his attention. He stands up, shooting up from his seat as he reaches out towards it. Whatever it is shines brightly on his face.

“He’s right there! I know you’re waiting for me!”

The light slowly fades away, as his hand slowly returns to his side. Calmly, he sits back down as he continues to speak.

“I can do it, I know I can. Just need to get through one more match, one more instance of being this close to wasting my time. One more day where I have to pretend that my contempt for everyone and everything isn’t real.”

His voice is almost a whisper at this point. Bryan looks to his phone, almost forgetting that the song has been playing on repeat this whole time. With a press of the screen, it stops, filling the air with silence.

“I can hardly wait.”